#not alfie giving birth to robin

[mylifeingotham]

Haha someone forced an ai to make a batman script

[dontfeedthebabytigers]

You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 7

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Thursday was a quiet day. The halls in Wayne manor held a fragile calm that had been unseen by the scratched hardwood since before Damian’s arrival many years ago. The only commotion came from the den as Bruce and Dick raced to see who could discover the Scooby Doo culprit first. Dick won every time, even if only because Bruce let him. Dick’s prize was sneaking desert in before dinner--- a risky move in a house where Alfred seemed to lurk behind every corner. They made ice cream sundaes with chocolate sauce, bananas, and rainbow sprinkles. If Alfred had found them out from the depleted ice cream supply, he didn’t say anything. Just this once.

Bruce posited the idea of Cass coming over the next day and possibly bringing along Barbara. Dick beamed at the idea and Bruce almost had to resort to bribing to get the boy asleep. Barbara was Dick’s only friend both his age and outside of the family. Out of everyone in the family, Dick had always been the people person, and Bruce knew that being stuck inside with only three other people had been starting to get to the boy. He almost broke Bruce’s ribs when he told Dick that he was ready for a friend. Did the fact that she also had a cape make Bruce feel more secure about introducing Dick to a social life, without a doubt. He also knew how suffocating the family could be--- himself especially. Having a fresh face that Dick could relax around had been a necessity.

They arrived at noon, right on schedule. Dick hated it when people arrived earlier than expected, got anxious when they were late.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Cain, Ms. Gordon.” Alfred couldn’t contain his glee at seeing Cass and Barbara. “Lunch will be ready within the hour. Master Wayne is waiting for you in the study, Ms. Cain. He looks forward to hearing about your latest trip abroad.”

Cass nodded her thanks and left to find her father.

“Do you know where Dick is, Alfie?” Barbara asked looking around the large lobby. He usually met her when she arrived, usually couldn’t wait to see her.

Alfred smiled down at young Barbara, only a few years older than Dick and with all the intelligence that Jim Gordon bragged about every time he passed by. “I believe Master Dick is in the room with us, Ms. Gordon, or maybe above us.” They both looked up to the beams that cross the high ceiling.

Alfred gave a merry laugh. “Good luck on this round, Ms. Gordon. Do try not to break anything from the fifteen century or earlier this time.”

“No fair,” Barbara said, arms crossed with a wicked grin on her face. “Those are all the most breakable antiques.”

“How will you ever survive,” Alfred said as he made his way back to the kitchen to finish their meal. He seldom got the opportunity to prepare a meal for so many people these days, the food had to be perfect.

Barbara surveyed the room for any sign of her friend, but, of course, Dick left no clues.

“You heard Alfred, Boy Wonder, no breaking the really old stuff. Now, we know that is going to happen if I have to start chasing after you.”

A soft footfall announced Dick as he dropped behind her. First thing Barbara noticed when she turned around was his comfy clothing--- a baggy sweatshirt over a leotard. He must have been working out, Barbara thought. Then she noticed that Dick smiled at her, but not a happy Dick Grayson smile. Just as Dick had many names--- Richard, Dick, Robin, Talon, the Gray Son--- he had many smiles that he put on like a show. Right now, Dick’s smile seemed stretched, taut with an inner turmoil.

“I knew where you were.” She joked, trying to see where his level of humor fell today.

“No, you didn’t” A subdued glint in his eyes, usually he enjoyed sneaking up on people. He made a game out of it, and he always loved surprising people. Right now, he didn’t look like he had won another game. Dick looked like he had already lost but didn’t want anyone to know.

“Try and prove that I didn’t.” Barbara gave him an easy smile to help him unwind. She could read Dick Grayson like computer code. His mind was a puzzle, and Barbara loved puzzles. “I’ve missed you. How have you been?”

Dick looked torn; he glanced down the empty halls for any prying family members. “Not good.”

“What happened?” Barbara asked.

Dick looked at her. His hands tapped out nervous energy in the only way his training knew how. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Come in,” Bruce called when a firm, yet polite, know resonated through the study. That was Cass’s knock. When Dick did actually knock it was hesitant and soft, afraid to ask. Jason was firm, confident, and a little too loud. Damian didn’t knock.

Cass entered with a smile and a wave, and Bruce’s heart soared to see his daughter again.

“Cass, it’s been too long.” Bruce used his most Brucie voice and crossed the room to give his daughter a hug. “How was Bruges?”

“Educational.” Was her response. She pulled a vinyl a bag she carried on her shoulder and handed it to her father. “For you.”

“Brahms,” Bruce remarked. “A good choice. Why don’t we give this a listen?” Bruce went over to the turntable and set up the record. Once the music began playing, Bruce’s façade faded with the lost silence. “What did you find out?”

Cass handed him a USB drive which he plugged into the computer. There were notes and documents, including blurred pictures of Talons dating back decades. Even more, evidence that the Court had influence spreading further than the borders of Gotham could contain.

“Your writing keeps getting better.” He noted as he read the notes that she had written to connect pieces of evidence. “

“I had a great teacher.” She smiled at him before pointing at a single file marked HC. “You need to see this.”

Bruce clicked the file open and was met with an old photograph taken in Bruges almost a century ago. In the photo, there was a man in his twenties shaking hands with a well-dressed older man with a boy standing at his side. A striped circus tent was in the background. The twenty-year-old looked familiar, so Bruce pulled open a file that contained a sketch of William Cobb that Damian had made with Dick’s help. There was an irrefutable resemblance.

“You found him.” A few years of searching and they finally found evidence that William Cobb existed before the Court. His indoctrination couldn’t have been long after the photo had been taken. However, Bruce’s joy at their first lead was sucked away when he remembered the backdrop of the photo.

“He’s at the circus.” Bruce didn’t believe in coincidence, but he wished that he did.

Cass nodded, grief in her heart. She took the mouse and zoomed in on the young boy standing next to the ringmaster. “He is Mr. Haly.”

Bruce had to pace around his study to avoid throwing the computer against the wall. When Dick had first moved in, all he could talk about was the circus and Mr. Haly. Dick saw that man as a grandfather like he saw Alfred. Dick loved that circus, and if they were working with the Court this whole time, well, Bruce didn’t know what that would do to Dick. Even now, the circus was his life.

“You know what this means,” Cass asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“It means that the Court didn’t pick him at random. They were grooming him, probably from birth.” Bruce had planned to take Dick to the circus when it came back to town later that week. Would they take him back to the Court if they saw him? “What I want to know is why they chose Dick.”

Cass nodded, she had her next mission.

Bruce ejected the USB after making an encrypted copy for his own records. “I assume that I don’t need to tell you that not a word of this leaves the room until we have indisputable proof that Haly’s Circus was working for the Court.”

Cass agreed. She knew Dick, saw herself in him. This news would only bring him pain, and even if there were no collusion he would never feel safe around the circus again. She turned away to leave but stopped when her father spoke again.

“Can I expect you at the Gala next week. I know Dick would love you there.” He could never just ask someone to stay.

She knew this, and she nodded before she left him standing alone with the music.

“Have you talked to Bruce about this?”

Did shook his head. “Bruce doesn’t like talking about Tim.”

Barbara didn’t blame Bruce for that one, at least not completely. She had been there when they found Tim, saw the crazed look in his eyes and heard the sickening laugh play like her dreams original soundtrack. Then with everything that happened after, Tim had always been one of those untouchable subjects within the manor walls. Barbara didn’t even think Bruce had referred to Tim as anything other than Red Hood in years.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Barbara asked the question that everyone knew the answer to because they all had the same one.

“When I came back,” Dick paused to gather his thoughts as he often did when he spoke in longer phrases. “When I came back, Tim was gone. No one would tell me why. Until you. I never got to say sorry, or goodbye.”

She never got to say goodbye either, none of them did. Tim was a dead man that still walked around a Gotham as broken as himself all because she couldn’t get the intel fast enough. Bruce said he didn’t blame her, that the Joker was a madman and a genius, but Barbara couldn’t see how that was supposed to matter. Not when Tim could have been saved from that.

“Hey Dick, can I ask you something?” She waited until he nodded, and her throat almost closed up. “Did he look okay? Healthy?”

Dick observed her like he always did when he couldn’t understand the message behind someone’s words. His gaze passed over her fists and her down-turned eyes. “He looked good.”

Barbara let out a breath and smiled. “Good,” She said. “That’s good.”

[digidetective-shararaizel]

Fear and Loathing in Recovery

Summery: Jason Todd is back from the dead and he's out for vengeance against those who have replaced him. Tony has something to say about that.

This chapter is a Jason centric chapter and it ended up being so long because of all the feels. I've never read the Death in the Family comic where Jason Todd's Robin was killed, but I own a copy of and have watch several times, Batman: Under the Red Hood, so the events of that movie is what I have in mind concerning Jason's death, resurrection, and fight with Bruce and Dick, though I do hint at his birth mother being a factor at some point to keep with comic canon.

That said, I hope you enjoy the chapter

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My Master List for Fan Fiction

Fear and Loathing in Recovery 2011

Jason Todd had grown up learning that there were very few people in the world that you could trust. The only reason he believed that there were ANY people you could trust was because of people like Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, and Tony Stark. Before his death at the hands of the Joker, Jason had thought he could trust them. Trust them to have his back. Now he knew better.

Bruce, his so-called father figure, had replaced him, and Alfred clearly liked the newer model better, dotting on the boy like he was the man’s own grandchild. Stark was no better. Jason had looked into the man’s travel records, and saw that he made twice as many trips to Gotham since the new Robin had appeared then he had when Jason was Robin.

It had made Jason so incredibly angry to see the three men he’d looked up to before his death so happy and having dinner with his replacement. Even Dick Fucking Grayson was there, tussling the brat’s hair and making nice like he never had with Jason. It had made the resurrected teen want to shoot out the dining room windows and have them look at him. Make them face him. Make them stare him in a face and see that even after his death they wouldn’t be rid of him. The only reason he hadn’t was because he had been watching that sickly domestic scene through a hacked camera feed in the manor from his safe house and not in person.

It just galled him. His replacement was a joke. He might have been smart (Jason could admit that the runt was a much better detective than he and Dickie-bird had ever been as Robin), but he was woefully underwhelming in the power department. It had been so easy wiping the floor with the brat back at Titan’s Tower. So easy in fact, Jason found him pathetic and not even worth finishing the job (or so he told himself). And yet Bruce and Alfred and Dick-face continued to keep the boy around. They weren’t going to take him off the street. They couldn’t see that this life was going to get him killed.

At least Stark seemed to be getting with the program. It had been very satisfying to hear him and Bruce go at it in the Batcave after Stark had found out what Jason did to the kid at the tower. Jason wasn’t sure how long Tony had known that Bruce was the Batman, but it was clear that he was in the know now. What was also new these days was the fact that Stark himself was part of the superhero scene, though not apart of any official team like the Justice League. Jason had to admit that Stark’s Iron Man armor was totally badass. He would almost give anything to see him take on the Batman, but he knew that would never happen. Stark and Bruce argued a lot, but it had never come to physical blows.

Jason was keeping low these days. Batman and Nightwing had been hunting for him relentlessly after he’d attacked the new Robin in Titan’s Tower less than a week ago. It irritated Jason that that was what it had taken for them to take him seriously. Two weeks ago they’d had their own little reunion. There had been injured pride all around after that little debacle. Nightwing had twisted his ankle badly during their first chase/standoff, and Batman had nearly crippled Jason’s hand during the final showdown when he’d caused Jason’s gun to backfire with a batarang just when he was about to blow the Joker’s brains out.

His hand was still a bit stiff, but it was nearly healed. The cursed Lazarus Pit was good for something at least. Dick was clearly feeling better since he was back out on the streets trying to help Batman hunt the Red Hood down. At least the Joker was still in traction with all the busted bones that came with having a building blown up and fall down all around him. It was a pity he hadn’t been crushed. That was only mildly satisfying, though. Jason still wanted that fucker dead, but the Bat had the clown locked up tight. So Jason had gone after his replacement.

The kid had returned from some summer trip in California apparently, which would explain why he hadn’t been around when Jason was trying to draw the Bats out in the beginning. Then Bruce had sent him back to Cali to the Titans after Jason had tried to slit the kid’s throat. If Bruce had thought that sending the brat away was going to stop Jason, than he was only kidding himself. Jason had seen the action as a challenge and proved that it didn’t matter where the Bat sent the boy. If the runt was going to wear the Robin uniform (and seriously? Why did he get to have pants?!) he was going to have to earn his place and prove that he could handle it. But clearly he couldn’t.

So now Jason was keeping low in Crime Alley in one of his few but secure safe houses. He didn’t dare patrol as Red Hood right now with Batman and Nightwing scouring every inch of his territory. All of Crime Alley’s usual criminals were keeping low as well. The Bats were clearly out for blood and it was best for everyone to stay low until they moved on.

Jason was very proud of the fact that he was able to hide right under their nose. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been nervous and anxious the first few nights he’d heard that the Bat was making sweeps of Crime Alley. When it became apparent that Batman hadn’t found any of his current safe houses, he began to relax a bit. Big mistake. Just because Bruce and Dick-face hadn’t found him yet, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t.

“Nice place you have.”

Jason stared, surprised, as he took in the fact that Tony Stark was standing in one of his most secure safe houses examining his Red Hood helmet. Then he pulled out one of his guns and aimed it at the man’s head.

“Are you going to shoot me, Jason?” Stark asked, actually pouting a bit. “Rude. I’m unarmed.”

“Your mistake. What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason snapped.

“What, I can’t visit?” Stark asked. “I’m hurt. You came back to see Dick and Bruce and even the fucking Joker, but not me? If you weren’t going to drop by for a visit, then I was. Simple as that. Alfie says hi, by the way. He’s disappointed you haven’t visited him yet either.”

“Why are you here?” Jason growled.

Stark sighed and set the Red Hood helmet down, his fingers gliding over it’s red finish almost… fondly?

“I had to see for myself,” the man said, looking straight into Jason’s unmasked eyes and never had the teen felt so vulnerable. Those warm brown eyes cut straight through like the Batman’s never had to Jason’s core. His corrupt Lazarus Pit saturated core.

“See what?” Jason muttered, his voice rising in volume until he was screaming at the man. “That the kid you knew is no more? That I’m as twisted and evil as the Bat says?! That I’m nothing more than some common criminal now?! Huh?!”

Stark shook his head and dared to take a step forward. Jason flicked the safety off the gun and aimed between those disappointed, condemning… sad eyes?

“No,” Stark said softly, taking another step. “I came to see if Jason Todd was really back from the dead.”

“Well here I am,” Jason scoffed, throwing his arms out wide. “What are you going to do about it, Mr. Genius?”

Then Stark moved, faster than the teen thought the man capable of. Jason was too late to bring the gun back up in time for a clean shot, so he dropped it (and was glad it didn’t discharge, because that was sloppy of him), ready to get into it with his fists…when the man hugged him.

Jason froze, unsure of how to react, before his face suddenly found itself tucked into the man’s neck. Stark’s hold was strong and hard, full of muscle Jason didn’t remember him possessing.

“You’re alive,” Stark gasped, choking a bit. “You’re really alive.”

Jason…was astounded. He hadn’t expected this at all. Hadn’t thought he’d mattered enough to Stark to warrant this kind of a reaction. The man had never been much of a touchy feely person. Yes, there’d been moments Stark had offered tokens of physical affection in the form of a shoulder squeeze, hair ruffles, and pats on the head, shoulder or back, but the closest thing to a hug he’d gotten from the man before this was the occasional loose arm around his shoulders as they surveyed their work on whatever car the man had brought over for them to tinker on.

“Sorry,” Stark said taking a step back, eyes blinking rapidly - shit, were those tears?! “Awkward, I know, but… Jesus , kid, you’re alive.”

Jason had no idea what to say. He was honestly still a little shocked that he’d been hugged … and that’s when Stark punched him right in the face. Hard . POW! Flat on his back and, son of a bitch, that had actually hurt . Then again, the man had supposedly been a boxer for years now.

“Sorry, not sorry, but I felt entitled to a punch,” Stark said. “You did nearly kill my kid twice now. Chalk it up to a dad’s overprotective tendencies, parental rights and all that jazz.”

What now?

“The fuck?” Jason growled, feeling the pit driven anger rile up again, but he was still so confused by the hug and even more so upon hearing that,that it only simmered instead of explode.

“Tim Drake,” Tony said, crouching down next to Jason where he was still flat on his back, and poked him hard in the chest. “Batman’s new Robin? The kid you slit the throat of and then not even a week later beat to a pulp in the Teen Mini-League’s Clubhouse? He’s biologically my son. Bruce may have legal guardianship until Jack Drake clears PT and gets out of the hospital, but due to our agreement I still have what amounts to parental rights. Shit, that does make us sound like a divorced couple.” Jason tried to make some sort of comment, but Stark wasn’t having any of it. “No! I’mtalking. I’ll tell you that whole story later. Right now you listen because I’m having a hard time deciding whether I want to hug you or slug you again because, fuck, I missed you, you little bastard, but I also want to kick your ass into next Tuesday for what you did to Tim. Just be glad I decided to have this conversation without the Iron Man suit nearby.”

“Seriously,” Jason groaned. “What. The. Fuck?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Tony sighed, plopping back to sit beside Jason’s sprawled form. “I get wanting to stick it to Bruce and Dickie-bird, because who doesn’t on occasion, right? But going after Tim? That, I can’t fathom. He’s never done anything to you. Well, technically he did stalk you when you were Robin but that was because he fucking idolized you. Dick may have been the first Boy Wonder, but you were the one he followed around the most. Your death and the shit storm that became life afterwards was the whole reason he became Robin. He did it in memory of you, asshole.”

“And you never thought to stop him?!” Jason growled, sitting up. “Didn’t my death teach you guys anything?! Kids his age shouldn’t be running around in tights playing hero. It gets them killed. It got me killed!”

“Clearly I’m a shit parent,” Stark deadpanned. “Why else would I let Bruce have custody over by boy instead of me? But that doesn’t mean that I like the fact that someone as young as Tim is Robin. I didn’t like it when Dick was Robin, I didn’t like it when you were Robin, and I most certainly hate it now that Tim is Robin and his predecessor is trying to kill him. But I can’t stop him because it’s what he wants to do - it’s what all of you ever wanted to do, even now - and I’d be a hypocrite if I told him that he can’t do it when I am running around doing the same thing as Iron Man. The best I can do is make sure he has the best training, equipment, backup, and protection as possible.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Jason demanded. “To neutralize a threat to your precious son?”

Stark punched him again. The anger that had been with Jason ever since he’d awoken in the Pit came boiling to the forefront and for a moment all he could see was that sickly rage-driven green. He snarled as he sat up and was about to hit back and wrestle the man to the ground when he felt those arms wrap around him in another hug, dowsing the worst of the Pit Rage almost instantly. What the fuck was up with these hugs?! And why were they throwing him so off kilter?

“Idiot boy,” Stark growled back, a hand fisting into the hair at the back of Jason’s head. “Is anything getting through that thick skull of yours? I’m not here for Tim. I’m here for you .”

“No,” Jason snapped, trying to push the man away, but it was harder than it should be. He couldn’t tell if Stark was just that much stronger now, if his conflicting emotions were weakening him, or a mixture of the two was the reason for it. “You’re here for the boy that died . The kid that used to help you fix up your damn cars. The kid that thought you were fucking brilliant because you taught him a few simple things about engineering. The kid that got his ignorant ass beat and blown to hell.”

“I came here for that kid, yes,” Stark admitted. “But I’m also here for the boy who’s stuck in his own personal hell. The boy that’s hurting inside because he thinks that his father figure has betrayed him. The boy who is so justifiably angry at the world that he’s lashing out in the only violent way he knows how. I knew when I came here that I wouldn’t find the boy that had died. Not all of him at any rate. I came here to see the man that that boy was forced to become because of what the Joker did and see if I could help.”

“Help me, huh? What do you know of hell, you rich bastard?!” Jason screamed.

“Plenty,” Stark said so bitterly that Jason ceased his struggling. The man let him go again and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“The fuck?” Jason breathed when he saw the white-blue glow coming from Stark’s chest.

“You wouldn’t know this because you were in Ethiopia being murdered,” Stark said softly, “but at the same time that was happening to you, I was in Afghanistan giving a weapons demonstration for the US military. On my way back to the nearest airbase, my convoy was attacked by a group of terrorists called the Ten Rings. A missile detonated in my face and shrapnel pierced through my kevlar vest into my chest cavity.”

Jason eyed the small but numerous scars that littered the flesh surrounding the circle of light in the man’s chest.

“I woke up in a cave a few days later,” Stark continued, “with a car battery plugged into my chest powering a magnet that was immobilizing all of the tiny shrapnel shards in my chest that couldn’t be surgically removed with the materials at hand.”

“Oh my God,” Jason gasped, feeling sick. He could picture it. A dark cave with low torch light and an eerie glow, only Stark’s light was blue, not green.

“I was stuck in that hell hole for three months. Do you know why they didn’t just kill me as they had originally intended?” Tony asked.

“They wanted you to make weapons,” Jason muttered.

“Yes, but that’s the reason they kept me alive after they tried to blow me up. See, when they had attacked my convoy they hadn’t known who I was. I was just a target to them before they realized who they were trying to blow up,” Tony said, chuckling bitterly.

Jason frowned.

“Do you remember Obadiah Stane?” Tony asked.

“Obie? Yeah, I remember him,” Jason said slowly. “Met him at a few of your galas that Bruce flew us out for. Nice guy.”

Tony’s laugh was harsh and ugly and it reminded Jason too much of how he’d laughed at Bruce only two weeks ago. Clearly he was missing something.

“Yeah, nice guy indeed,” Tony spat. “Like a father to me. Took me under his wing, like Bruce did with you. Only, apparently he thought I’d outgrown my usefulness. It was Stane that had ordered the hit on me in Afghanistan. He didn’t want me to know that he’d been double dealing Stark weapons under the table and off the books. It was one of my own missiles that detonated in my face. Irony, right? Nearly killed by a weapon I designed. Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘bullet with your name on it.’”

Jason felt his insides freeze.

“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Tony chuckled bitterly. “After I managed to escape the caves in Afghanistan, I came back to the states and basically ordered an immediate shutdown of SI’s weapons manufacturing facilities. Stane didn’t like that. See, he was trying to rebuild the armor I’d used to escape in Afghanistan, but he didn’t have a compatible powersource. He knew about this little gizmo in my chest, realized that it must have been what was powering my armor, and when my guard was down, he ambushed me at home and paralyzed me with a sonic taser that emits a high pitched sonic frequency that attacks the subject’s nervous system and causes their entire body to lock up. I could only sit there and watch as he reached into my chest and took out what has become a physical and almost literal metaphor for my heart.”

Jason watched with growing horror as Stark actually touched the device in his chest, twisted, and popped it out so that Jason could see just how deeply it was imbedded in his chest even with the wires still connected to the inside.

“The Arc Reactor has a diameter 2.7 inches, and a circumference of 8.48 inches, though that’s hardly important,” Stark continued. “It’s roughly 7 inches deep inside my chest cavity, including the magnet, meaning that I have roughly 42 inches of total area carved out of my chest, which translates to a little more than 23 fluid ounces. A 16 ounce bottle of pop holds just under 29 fluid ounces, just f.y.i.”

“How are you still alive?” Jason coughed, feeling sick.

“The doctor that put the casing in was brilliant,” Stark said, smiling wryly. “He had to make quite a few adjustments to my anatomy, and the fact that I even survived the surgery - in a cave in Afghanistan no less - boggles the minds of every doctor I’ve seen since my return to the states. I’ve had further surgeries of course, to replace the old casing and make sure it isn’t causing more damage than what’s already been done to my body, but not much can be done since a good number of my ribs were sawed and cauterized to make room for this cursed thing.”

“Why not have them remove it?” Jason asked.

“... It’s not something I’m currently willing to be put under for. In order for them to perform such an invasive surgery, that would involve not only the removal of the reactor and magnet, but the shards of shrapnel still in my chest as well, I’d need to be put under for roughly 18 hours. And then there’s the lengthy recovery period of at least six months,” Stark said, looking away.

“Wait… are you saying you were awake during all of those surgeries?!” Jason gasped.

“Not the first one that hooked a car battery up to my chest cavity,” Stark huffed, “but, the replacement surgery I had when I put in the first arc reactor and all of it’s replacement units, including the new casing that went in two years ago, yes. I needed to be able to give instructions on how to install it. Pepper wasn’t willing to do that, so she made me have my long standing personal physician do it. I’m not exactly comfortable with other people sticking their hands in my chest without supervision.”

“I can imagine,” Jason said softly, watching as the man put the glowing gizmo back in his chest. And just like that all of his anger was just… gone. For now. It was hard to be angry in the face of someone who had suffered like he had. Worse than he had. Jason at least had had the relief that came with death, until he was unceremoniously and painfully revived. The Lazarus Pit had healed all of his wounds and removed every scar. The only pain he lived with now was his anger and any injury he got on the streets, but even those healed pretty quickly. He couldn’t imagine having to live with that contraption in his chest. “Jesus, Tony, you sure don’t pull your punches.”

“It’s not that I’m belittling your own pain by any means, Jaycie. I’ve come close to dying so many times, but never managed to meet that end like you did. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you coming back to life after all these years, but I think it’s safe to say that I know a thing or two about what hell is like. I’ve been there. I’m still there some nights. Nightmares are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Jason swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. He didn’t know why hearing that stupid nickname made him feel like he was 12 years old all over again.

“Hey! Shit, sorry, Jaycie, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse,” Tony moaned, pulling Jason into another hug, one hand fumbling to wipe at his face and - shit! Jason twisted away to try hiding the tears he only just now realized were falling. When his hand hit Tony’s chest and he felt the warm metal beneath his palm, he ceased all movement, afraid of damaging such an invasive, but crucial device. “Fuck, I’m not good at this,” Tony sighed, settling for just holding Jason, his hand moving away from Jason’s face to cradling the back of his head.

“Funny, you’re doing a pretty good job,” Jason chuckled, the little part of him that had been Robin wanting to just bury his face in Tony’s shoulder, so he did.

“Right, I feel so accomplished,” Tony deadpanned. “I made an 18 year old tough guy cry.”

“You’re right. You’re an asshole,” Jason laughed. He couldn’t help it. For the first time since he’d been revived by the Lazarus Pit he felt a touch of peace.

“Hey, I made you laugh at least,” Tony said. Jason could easily visualize that damn smirk. “And it takes an asshole to know an asshole, and a broken man to recognize another broken man.”

“Is that what we are?” Jason sighed. “Broken men?”

“Poor choice of words. I prefer to think of us as survivors,” Tony said. “Stane and Joker may have tried to break us, but we’re still here, aren’t we? And if we can keep getting back up, and keep fighting, then they can’t win. We’re more than their victims. We’re Tony Fucking Stark and Jason Fucking Todd.”

Jason laughed again, pulling back before smiling at the man.

“I missed you, Tony.”

“Missed you too, kid. Now let’s get out of here,” Tony huffed, getting to his feet.

“And go where?” Jason sighed, feeling his bitterness bubble up again. “B is looking for me and will have me arrested the moment I come out of hiding. I’ve kill a lot of people over the last couple of months, Tony.”

“My hands aren’t exactly clean either,” Tony said softly. “And please. If I can find you when he can’t, I can easily get us out of Gotham without any of the Bats knowing.”

“How?” Jason asked, still feeling skeptical.

“A private plane and an AI feeding the Bats false information,” Tony smirked. “Who the hell do you think helped Bruce install that supercomputer in the Batcave? I also helped him design and upgrade his Batmobiles. Let’s just say that if I wanted to, I could mess him up good. He may think he’s locked me out in recent years, but JARVIS has been a part of his system since it was installed. He’d have to completely dismantle and rebuild the computer and cars to remove JARVIS from their systems and even then, he’d have one heck of a time keeping me out. Oracle is good, don’t get me wrong, but she hasn’t been a hacker for as long as I have.”

Jason shook his head. “Just like that? You’re going to whisk me out of Gotham, Bruce being none the wiser, and what? Set me up in some cozy loft and send me off to therapy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony scoffed. “You’ll stay with me in Malibu. I can get you a therapist if you want, but I was thinking more along the lines of helping you get back on your feet and used to living again. I’ve got a decent gym, fun toys, and a sweet firing range. I was looking at your Red Hood helmet and while it’s rudimentary functions are good, I think we can really make it something special. The self destruct sequence if pretty nice. Gives you a last ditch weapon in a tight spot. I assume you wear a domino mask under it?”

“Not going to lecture me on carrying firearms?” Jason asked, genuinely curious.

Tony just leveled a disbelieving stare at him. “Do I look like Bruce anti-gun Wayne to you? Former Weapons manufacturer, remember? I’m hardly gun shy. If you feel the need to carry firearms, then carry a permitted gun. Just ease up on the trigger finger. Where we’re going the most threatening thing is going to be a pissed off Pepper Potts. I kind of ditched our one year anniversary plans to come out here and hunt your ass down.”

“Pepper Potts?” Jason repeated. “Isn’t she your Personal Assistant?”

“She’s acting CEO of Stark Industries now,” Tony said, smiling gently in the same way that Jason had seen Bruce smile at Selina Kyle, meaning that Miss Potts was a lot more that a PA or CEO or whatever her job was to Tony.

“And is she going to be alright with me just crashing at your place?” Jason asked, feeling doubtful.

“Eh,” Stark huffed, shrugging. “We’re not living together, so I don’t see why not. She’ll probably yell at me for not telling her about you beforehand, but I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”

“Right,” Jason sighed, shaking his head. He doubted it. Nobody - aside from Tony that is - had been particularly thrilled to see him. Granted, that was mostly his fault, but if they’d just gotten rid of the Goddamned Joker-! Hadn’t he meant anything to them? Why was his killer still alive? Why hadn’t they avenged him?

“Hey,” Tony said softly, kneeling on the floor again next to Jason, tapping his knuckles gently against his head. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Why is the Joker still alive?” Jason growled.

“You know Batman doesn’t kill,” Tony sighed, but he at least sounded a touch angry as well. “And Iron Man’s interference isn’t welcome in Gotham, by Batman or GCPD. Trust me, if I could, without ruining my friendship with Bruce, or getting my ass arrested, and my armor seized, I would have blown that piece of shit up as soon as I learned what Joker did to you. That’s what I get for being Batman’s friend and a public superhero, though. I have to play by the rules, which includes not killing someone without probable cause. Though, I’m telling you right now, if that fucker ever comes across my path and tries to murder people in front of me, he’s getting blown sky high. My moral standing is a lot lower than Bruce’s.”

Jason growled, but let it go. That was more than what he’d gotten from Bruce. Besides, Tony wasn’t who he was mad at anyway. Never really had been.

“I don’t think I should go with you,” Jason sighed, finally getting his ass off the ground. “I don’t belong in Malibu in your fancy house.”

“So you’re just going to stay here?” Tony asked, getting up as well and gesturing to the rundown apartment that was Jason’s current safehouse. “And do what? Take over the drug cartels? Become a mobster?”

“Here it comes,” Jason smirked fiercely. He knew it. Tony was no different from Bruce after all. “Going to tell me how wrong I am? That Bruce was right? That I’m a criminal now?!”

“Whoa, Jaycie,” Tony said, frowning sternly in a manner that oddly reminded Jason of Alfred. “Cool your jets, kid, and stop putting words in my mouth. I’m not saying you’re wrong. You’re not really right either, according to the law and stuff, but your plan to take over the underworld to make it more manageable does make a lot of sense. And in a city as corrupt as Gotham? It might just work. You can’t get rid of all crime, but you can at least make it somewhat manageable. Do not ever quote me on that by the way. Pepper would castrate me for the shitstorm that’d come up if it got out that I support a would-be mobster.”

Jason relaxed a touch at that, but was still on edge. “So why do you want to get me out of Gotham?”

“I told you,” Tony sighed. “I want to help you, Jay. It’s not like you can do much while Batman is hunting for the Red Hood anyway, so why not leave and regroup elsewhere?  Take a vacation. Get away from everything. California sunshine just might do you some good. I’ll even help you with your tech.” Tony patted the Red Hood helmet, grinning. “I can’t stop you, but I’m willing to help give you the means to be safer. I…I don’t want to lose you again, Jayce.”

Jason grit his teeth, watching the man for a minute before sighing, feeling the fight drain out of him. Now that the seemingly never ending rage that had fueled and driven him for so long was gone, he felt tired. So tired he felt it in his bones. It felt strangely of defeat. Like that moment he’d watched the last seconds on the bomb’s timer in Ethiopia tick down and he knew that he was going to die.  Stark had worn him down. He should have seen it coming the moment he found himself stunned by that first hug. Tony always got his way, after all. Why would now be any different? The man was a force all on his own and, apparently, not even the Pit’s influences could persevere against the man.

“Ok, Tony,” he said. “Ok.”

3 Weeks Later…

Not everything had been smooth sailing after Tony had gotten Jason to come to Malibu. He’d been right about Pepper being furious, but after their fight she’d taken one look at Jason and personally saw to setting up a guest bedroom for him. For the first couple of days, things had been fine. Jason was grouchy in the mornings (the kid had never been much of a morning person), but had taken to the bots well enough. He helped Tony tinker in the lab (though never with the Iron Man armor. That was Tony and Tim’s thing), and spent a good bit of time at the range Tony had set up on his property. So at first, everything was fine. Good even. It was like having the old Jason back, only the kid was older and full of more biting sarcasm and snark.

But the third night led to the first of what Tony and Jason had begun to call Pit-mares. A Pit-mare usually involved Jason reliving his death, his resurrection, and, in one way or another, a disappointed Bruce/Batman. After a Pit-mare, Jason was always seething and angry and just destructive in general, upturning furniture and throwing things because they’d agreed not to have guns in the house. JARVIS was smart to lock down the lab after the first one, after Jason had nearly wrecked half the work space during his Pit-fueled tantrum.

The worst thing about Pit-mare nights, however, weren’t Jason’s bouts of impossible rage, self loathing and destruction. It was the breakdowns afterwards. There was a lot of ugly crying (the kind with a lot of tears and snot and wailing) and depressing shit, that usually ended with Jason saying that he wished that he’d stayed dead. That he could just die again so that it wouldn’t matter anymore. JARVIS had taken to locking away the kitchen cutlery after one particularly bad night that had left half the kitchen in shambles and Tony with a black eye and some scratches from fork tines.

Those nights were becoming fewer, though, the longer Jason stayed, but the previous night had been particularly rough. Tony had known that he wouldn’t be able to keep Jason’s actions a secret from Pepper and Rhodey for long (frankly he was impressed he’d managed 3 weeks), so he wasn’t too surprised that once they saw the damage in the living room when they came over that morning they ganged up on him after Jason left, feeling mildly embarrassed, to shower off another ugly morning-after.

“Tony, he needs help,” Pepper pushed. “Professional help.”

“He needs a psych ward and a straight jacket,” Rhodey had grumbled, eyeing the turned over couch, it’s shredded cushions and the shattered lamp in the living room where there was a steak knife embedded in the wall. JARVIS had missed one, it seemed. Either that, or Jason was in the habit of sleeping with knives under his pillows, which Tony wouldn’t put past the teen.

“He’s not crazy, Rhodey,” Tony sighed. “He’s been through alot and is hurting.”

“You keep saying that, but you won’t say what he’s been through,” Pepper sighed.

“Who is this kid anyway?” Rhodey asked. “Where’d you pick his crazy ass up?”

“I told you, his name is Jason,” Tony said, gritting his teeth. “And he’s from Gotham. He grew up a street kid and has recently seen some really tough times.”

“Was he in a gang?” Pepper asked.

Could the Batman and his posse be considered a gang? Nah. They were more like a mafia. He’d taken to referring to the group of Gotham vigilantes as the Bat Family because of the obsessive way they tended to keep tabs on each other and their Rogues Gallery.

“No,” Tony sighed.

“Well he’s got one hell of a case of PTSD,” Rhodey said. “He looks too young to be a soldier, but was he in service?”

“Something like that,” Tony muttered. “More along the lines of Special Ops.”

“Jesus,” Rhodey sighed. “And how old is he?”

“17-19-ish,” Tony mused, not really sure. Did you count the time he was dead or not?

Rhodey frowned, because obviously Jason wasn’t old enough to have gone through the training required to be a Special Ops. agent.

“Regardless,” Pepper cut in, “that young man needs help. I’m proud and happy that you want to help him out, Tony, I really am, but he needs professional assistance. He needs someone to talk to about his experiences.”

“He is talking. We both are,” Tony snapped, feeling defensive.

“Both?” Rhodey repeated, eyes sharp. “What’s going on, Tony?”

Tony grit his teeth and turned away, heading for the mostly tidy kitchen. A few appliances still needed to be replaced from the fit that Jason had had the week before, but the furniture had either been restored or replaced. He blatantly ignored Pepper’s glare and Rhodey’s pointed looks at the fist sized dents in the fridge door.

“I’ve known Jason for years,” Tony admitted. “We’ve both been through hellish situations in recent times, but we’ve been talking to each other. Last night was just a really bad night for him. He really is getting better. You guys just don’t know him like I do.”

“Tony,” Pepper and Rhodey sighed in unison, but before they could continue, Jason appeared in that quiet and sudden manner that all bat brats were in the habit of doing. They both jumped, startled to see him suddenly there. That had been a quick shower.

Jason glared at them, but flashed Tony a guilty look before opening the fridge. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Hey, I have my bad nights too,” Tony said shrugging, handing Jason a glass from the cupboard for his orange juice.

Jason sighed, shaking his head.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tony asked, casually. He normally offered after Jason had calmed down after a Pit-mare.

Jason frowned at his drink, eyes darting warily at Pepper and Rhodey.

“They won’t say anything,” Tony assured. “I trust them.”

Jason scowled, but shrugged, slumping against the counter.

“What’s there to say?” he growled. “It’s the same thing every time. Bastard comes at me with a crowbar and beats the shit out of me. Then that damn bomb blows and I’m burning and screaming until fire becomes the water and instead of burning, I’m drowning and I can’t breathe and all I can hear is that bastard’s laugh.” Jason chokes, his voice going hoarse. “And I’m still screaming. I’m always screaming, always burning, and he’s always laughing.”

Tony stepped up next to Jason and wrapped an arm around the teen’s shoulders.

“I have dreams like that too sometimes,” Tony admitted. “In Afghanistan… the terrorists would shove my head under water and hold me there. Over and over and over again when I didn’t immediately follow their commands. When I wasn’t working fast enough to build them their damn missile. It was worse when I was still hooked up to that damn car battery because not only was I drowning, I was being electrocuted too whenever water hit the battery. When I have nightmares about that particular brand of torture… I wake up unable to breathe. Unable to scream because there's no air in my lungs to make a sound. And they’re still shouting and yelling in Arabic and other dialects of languages I can’t understand.”

Jason clenched his eyes shut, nodding, before leaning into Tony’s side. They both jumped slightly when Pepper made a noise that sounded like someone had punched her in the gut. Rhodey also looked pained at the admission. Tony flushed, looking away from his two closest companions. He’d honestly forgotten that they were there in his attempt to reach out to Jason, to let him know that he wasn’t alone in his pain.

“You never told us how they’d tortured you before,” Pepper whispered, staring at Tony sadly.

“Because it’s not something I want to talk about,” he sighed. “I didn’t want you to know what that felt like, because isn’t it enough that I’m back?”

“Is it?” Jason asked hollowly. “ Can it ever be enough?”

“If we want it to be,” Tony said softly. “If we choose to move on instead of dwelling-!”

“Easy for you to say,” Jason snapped, stepping away. “You’ve never died. I did die, Tony. I was dead! I should have stayed dead! But Ra’s al Fucking Gul decided to dunk me in his Lazarus Pit and revive me for whatever sick reason he had and I can’t find peace. I’m so angry! All the fucking time! All the time, Tony…” And yet Jason’s anger faded just as quickly as it’d erupted. “And when that anger is gone, I’m tired. So tired I can’t find the strength to move some days. I didn’t know I could feel this tired until you showed up and dragged me here.”

“Gotham wasn’t good for you,” Tony said softly. “And being here hasn’t all been bad, has it? We’ve had some good days too, remember? The bots like you when you’re not knocking shit over and screaming at them. Why, just yesterday, DUM-E let you use his fire extinguisher. I don’t think you realize how attached he is to that stupid thing.”

“I blew up the prototype for the new Hood we were working on,” Jason grumbled, but his lips were twitching up into a small smile.

“Sure did,” Tony said, grinning. “And then Butterfingers accidentally squirted you with the oil can when we were working on the old T-bird, and U wouldn’t stop chasing after you with the rags.”

Jason chuckled, slumping back against Tony.

“And don’t forget when you allowed him to test the new repulsor, sir,” JARVIS piped up.

Tony laughed, nodding. “Weren’t expecting that much kickback were you, kid?”

Jason snorted, his small smile now a large grin.

“See? Not all bad times. Nights just really suck sometimes. That’s why I don’t sleep very often.”

“That’s not a good thing, Tony,” Rhodey huffed, but he and Pepper were smiling at them, a warm, fond look in their eyes.

“Sleep is overrated,” Tony said, surprised to hear Jason’s voice echo him. He grinned at the teen and ruffled his hair. Jason squawked, batting his hand away, but the smile hadn’t faded in the slightest.

“But in all seriousness, Tony,” Pepper said gently. “He needs help.”

“I’m not subjecting him to anything he doesn’t want to do,” Tony growled.

Jason winced, looking away from everyone as he slumped against the counter again.

“I’m not just talking about him seeing a psychiatrist, Tony,” Pepper sighed, “even though I think that would really help. I was thinking more along the lines of something more recreational. Something to help him work out all of that aggression, instead of letting him take it out on your house and the furniture.”

Jason winced again, looking gloomily at the refridgerator and the fist sized dents in the door.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I can arrange something,” Tony conceded. “Maybe move you to a room that’s closer to the gym? We can get some really sturdy punching bags. I can program some training droids for you to fight, too. Then you can fix them up. We’ve already agreed that fixing stuff is therapeutic, right?”

“I’ve heard pet therapy works wonders,” Rhodes offered.

“I am not letting any animals in here, thank you,” Tony scowled, but noted that Jason was smiling a bit again. “Pet dander gets everywhere and then there’s cleaning up their excrement and just-! No! Ick! N. O. NO!”

“So don’t get anything big like a cat or a dog. What about something small like a hamster? Or a fish?” Rhodey asked.

“They’ll die within the first couple of days,” Tony huffed. “I’m not taking care of anything like that. I’ll forget to feed them.”

“Fish are boring anyway,” Jason scoffed. “All they do is swim in circles.”

“And a hamster?” Pepper asked.

Jason shrugged. “It’s a rodent. What’s so fun about those? Don’t they carry diseases and shit?”

“Rats are notorious for being plague carriers,” Tony added.

“Oh please,” Pepper huffed.

“Hamsters can be fun,” Rhodey protested. “You two could probably build the craziest hamster habitat ever for the little guy to run around in. And don’t BS me about the whole not feeding and watering, thing. You can program a food and water distributor that JARVIS and the bots can run. I’m sure the bots would love to help with the clean up as well. DUM-E and U are kind of neat freaks when they’re not knocking shit over and creating their own messes.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and Tony mirrored the action.

“It’s up to you, Jayce,” Tony admitted. “I don’t mind getting you a hamster if you take care of it.”

“Do I look five to you?” Jason scowled, but there was a look of consideration on his face.

“Whatever, we’ll table this conversation for later,” Tony said, but knew that both he and Jason were probably going to be looking up hamsters later that day.

Rhodey and Pepper stuck around for brunch before taking Tony away for work at the office. They needed to get everything in order before they could get started on the build for Stark Tower in New York. Pepper and Tony had managed to buy out some prime real estate that was within a couple of blocks of the Chrysler Building.

By the end of Jason’s fourth week in Malibu, not only had Jason decided to buy a hamster (a little black thing with a white spot on his back that looked like a bat if you squinted and looked at it sideways) named Batster the bastard hamster, and not only had they built the BEST hamster habitat for Batster that wrapped around Jason’s new room, it also went through the wall into the gym with extensions planned to go into the workshop. Jason’s new room had been a storage space previously, but Tony had quickly outfitted it with everything and anything Jason could need in the basement level. It became common place for Tony to wake up from where he’d fallen asleep in his workshop to the sound of Jason pounding on the punching bags. Tony was still putting the finishing touches on the androids for Jason to fight, but he wanted to reinforce and protect the circuitry and processing panels to make sure that Jason wasn’t able to completely destroy the things when he fought them.

The most surprising development of the fourth week, however, was that Pepper had worn Jason and Tony down enough to get them to agree to meet with a psychiatrist. The doc was more of a behavioral specialist, really. They had scheduled sessions with Dr. Patrick Jane on Tuesday and Thursday. They were allowed to have their sessions together, for emotional support as Pepper liked to say. Tony and Jason knew that that was a load of bullshit, but they couldn’t deny that having the other there helped. It also helped that Dr. Please-call-me-Patrick Jane turned out to be sassy and sarcastic as fuck.

The guy was good. Tony could admit that. Dr. Jane had a way of getting them comfortably talking and then somehow turn the conversation on it’s head and get them talking about some seriously personal and emotional stuff. Jason had really lost it in the middle of their first session, screaming at Dr. Jane about how he couldn’t know shit about what it was like to be killed by the Joker and then revived by a meddling immortal. The doc hadn’t batted an eye and just asked more probing questions that had Jason ranting it all out, going into every gory detail of his death at the Joker’s hand, and his resurrection, not even hiding the fact that he had been Robin. By the time he was done, Jason was drained and panting and all Tony could do was gently take hold of the boy’s wrist and draw him back down onto the couch they’d been sitting on for their session, and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Tony had expressed with great severity after the session that if Dr. Jane ever dared to break Doctor-Patient confidentiality and speak a word about Jason to anyone, Tony would do everything in his power to ruin him. Dr. Jane had sworn he wouldn’t, saying that he saw it as an honor to help heroes like Iron Man and Robin.

Despite reassurances, Tony had JARVIS run a thorough background check on Patrick Jane and had his movements followed for the rest of the week to ensure that the man was genuine. It sure seemed like it, but Tony had JARVIS keep the surveillance up as a precaution.

Their Thursday session had been less explosive, mostly because it was focused on Tony due to the last one being primarily about Jason. Jason had no trouble helping Dr. Jane heckle information out of Tony. He even got Tony to talk about Yinsen, someone that Tony had refused to talk about, even to Tim. Especially to Tim. The guilt he felt about surviving captivity in Afghanistan at the cost of Yinsen’s life was still so overwhelming at times. He couldn’t go to sleep some nights because he wondered if he was doing enough good to make up for the bad his weapons had wrought. If he’d saved even a fraction of the number of lives his weapons had destroyed. If he’d even begun to tip the scale in a positive direction.

Unlike Jason, who tended to shout and express his feelings through the anger that the Lazarus Pit had left him with, Tony became quiet and contemplative. Where Jason was raging fire, Tony was still ice. He knew that he’d fallen into a melancholic quiet episode when Jason scooted closer and Tony was able to feel his warm living body budge up beside him, chasing away the cold night desert cave air and the cool touch of sleek machinery that he tended to dwell on.

By the end of Jason’s second month living in Malibu with Tony, the Pit-mares had become fewer, to the point that he was able to sleep most of the week without having a violent episode. The therapy and various physical outlets had really helped. Jason didn’t outright destroy the droids he was fighting either, and had even started to spar with Tony. Those were highly educational encounters for the man that left him battered and bruised in a good way whenever he did it without the Iron Man armor on. It had really freaked Pepper out the first time she’d caught him applying concealer over a particularly dark bruise on his left cheek he’d earned due to a moment of inattention during their morning spar.

Sessions with Dr. Jane still began with a “group” session for the first hour, but they now had individual sessions as well for an additional half hour; Tuesdays were Jason, and Thursdays were Tony. Jason had also started to work a part-time PA position for Tony at Stark Industries under the name Jason Peters. He was mostly getting coffee and running little errands during the day, but he was allowed to work as Tony’s assistant the days that were spent working in the R&D labs. It allowed him to socialize with other people who weren’t Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy (who wasn’t so happy to hear that Jason had sort of taken over as Tony’s sparring partner). The point was, Jason was meeting new people and making sort-of friendly acquaintances. There was a particularly pretty brunette named Abby who doubled as both Pepper and Tony’s office secretary that he was particularly fond of. The woman was a firecracker and fun to banter with. She reminded Jason of Barbara Gordon.

Back at the house, Batster the bastard hamster had also gained a few new friends to join him in the monstrous accumulation of habitats and tubes that threaded throughout most of the basement level. There was Wingnut, a grey, black and white hamster, that enjoyed monopolizing the various wheels in the habitats; Penny, a dusty orange-grey hamster that was always hard to find because he liked roaming around through the tubes; Babster, a bright orange-red hamster who liked to kick Wingnut off his wheels and steal them for herself, and a small brown hamster called Tiny Nim who prefered to roam the tubes and habitat boxes that wound through the workshop because that’s where Jason and Tony spent a lot of their time together.

Yes, it seemed like everything was fine with Jason, but the real test came halfway through his third month in Malibu, when Tim Drake was coming over for a weekend visit after a rough mission with the Teen Titans. If Tony was worried about any possible confrontation, Jason couldn’t see it. He did notice, however, how excited and happy Tony seemed to be the closer it got to Tim’s arrival.

Tim arrived just after sundown looking exhausted as he pulled into the garage on a Ducati in dark civilian clothes with a large duffel slung over his shoulder. Jason kept himself out of sight behind a work table and it’s holograms, watching as Tony set down his tools and raced over to greet the boy. The bots were squealing quite happily as well, as they joined their creator in greeting the blood son of Stark. A bubble of jealousy flared briefly in Jason’s gut, but he squashed the feeling and began a meditative breathing exercise that Dr. Jane had taught him.

Watching them, it was amazing that Jason hadn’t realized before how much Tim and Tony looked alike when he’d been researching his replacement. Seeing them stand side by side, it was obvious. They had the same fly-away black hair (when the kid wasn’t gelling it down or purposefully spiking it up), eerily similar body language, and mannerisms. Yes, their eyes were different colors, and Tim had obviously inherited his mother’s cheek bone structure, but their short, compact frames were nearly identical from the way they held themselves to their bodies’ whip-cord frame beneath their unassuming clothes. Neither looked physically impressive, but Jason knew from experience that both man and young teen were capable of flipping someone on their ass.

“Hey Dad,” Tim sighed, his smile tired as he hugged Tony.

“Timmy,” Tony returned, cradling the back of Tim’s head, much like he often did for Jason after a Pit-mare.

Jason found himself more intrigued than angry as he watched the father and son update each other on their health and recent activities. Then he froze when Tony turned around and motioned him forward. Shit. Tim’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise and his body went tense.

“Well…here goes nothing,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“What’s he doing here?” Tim asked softly. Jason was rather surprised that it was more weary than angry.

“Rehabilitating,” Tony quipped, “and as you know, he’s Jason Todd. Jason, this is Tim Drake, my Godson-slash-bio-son.”

“Huh?” Jason said, frowning in confusion. He knew about the bio-son bit, but Godson?

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Tony laughed. “Even though Timmy’s mother and I agreed that Jack Drake would be his dad, she somehow also managed to get Jack to agree to make me Tim’s Godfather so that I could have some tangible and legal part in his life, no doubt. She was sneaky and manipulative. You would have liked her.”

“I really doubt that,” Tim sighed. “Mother was a high society type. Though she thought it was sweet of Bruce to take in orphans, she didn’t approve of Dick or Jason because of their backgrounds. There was a reason she stopped bringing me to Bruce’s galas as I got older.”

“She thought they’d corrupt you,” Tony said, grinning. “Oh the irony . Jayce and Dickie boy have been corrupting you since Robin first took to the sky.”

Jason frowned, not sure what to make of that statement. He’d only met the kid four months ago.

“You’ll have to tell Jay the story of how you figured out the big bat’s secret and how you became Robin,” Tony said to Tim while smirking at Jason.

Tim glanced between Jason and Tony, his face was carefully arranged in a blank expression - like Bruce’s when he was still taking in a situation and wasn’t sure how to react yet - but the tension was still there in his shoulders.

Jason shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Granted, it’s not anything ballsy like stealing the tires off the Batmobile, but Tim was only eight-nine-ish when he figured Bruce out,” Tony mused in that way that was overly nonchalant and meant to get you interested.  …And succeeded.

“Kid found out about the Bat’s ID when he was nine ?” Jason asked. From his research, he knew that the kid was smart, and now that he knew that he was Tony’s it made sense he’d be smarter than most kids his age, but nine years old?!

“Eight and a half,” Tim mumbled, flushing slightly.

“Tell Jay what gave the Bat away,” Tony said, his smirk growing.

“...Dick has a very distinctive skill set, including a quadruple somersault. I saw him perform it the night his parents died,” Tim said. “Then I saw Robin perform the same somersault six years later. Very few people can execute that move and there was only one person in the world Robin’s age capable of pulling it off. So after figuring out that Dick Grayson was Robin, it was only logical to deduce that Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

It was quiet for a minute before Jason couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, startling Tim and making Tony beam proudly.

“So Golden Boy was the one who gave it away,” Jason gasped, having to lean on U’s chassis, he was laughing so hard. “And I suppose, baby bird, that after that, it was only logical that I, Bruce Wayne’s next ward, was the second Robin?”

“Yes?” Tim said, looking unsure and confused now instead of tense.

“Oh, that’s priceless,” Jason snickered.

“That’s nothing,” Tony crowed. “Wait till you find out how Timmy became Robin.”

And Jason found himself genuinely interested. He hadn’t cared before, because it hadn’t mattered how he was replaced. All he’d known about his replacement - about Tim - was that he’d begun his Robin training 2 years after he’d died. 2 years… That had seemed like less time than he’d thought it was fresh out of the pit. Of course, then, being Robin had felt like it was just yesterday. It was amazing the perspective he was beginning to get after all the time he’d spent these last few months with Tony (and talking to Dr. Jane).

Jason gestured to the grungy couch where Tony usually passed out for the night if he was on an engineering binge in the lab, and they settled down to listen to Tim (with some antecedents from Tony) explain how he became Robin. He wasn’t sure he believed Tim when he described how bad Bruce - Batman - had been after Jason had died, even after Tony pulled up injury and incident reports from the GCPD’s database during the two years before Tim began his training. He didn’t want to believe because he still had a grudge against the Batman - he’d admitted as much to Dr. Jane during his last private session. He did wish, however, that he could have seen the look on both Bruce and Dickie’s faces after learning that a scrawny 12 year old knew who they were. He even admired the guts the kid had for putting on Jason’s old suit and taking on Two Face. The guy was known for being one of most dangerous criminals in Batman’s Rogues Gallery for a reason.

“I… I never wanted to replace you, Jason,” Tim said softly as he finished his story. “But Batman needed a Robin. I know that I’m nowhere near as good or as strong as you or Dick, but… I could only hope… it’s all that I can ever hope…that I am good enough . That I can do the role justice. That I can give Batman the kind of support he needs now, that he got from my predecessors.”

Aw hell. Now Jason really felt like shit. Especially when his eyes caught sight of the shiny new scar on the kid’s neck. He’d done that. He’d done that to a fourteen year old boy who hadn’t deserved the brunt of his anger. His rage. Bruce and Joker, he could still blame - did blame - but this kid was innocent. And so naive, with those bright blue eyes that shone with that spark of hope he’d so often caught glimpses of in the mirror when he was that age because being Robin was amazing. When Jason was still baffled and amazed that anyone could want him, the neglected orphan child of an abusive asshole criminal father, a drug addicted mom, and a traitorous bitch of a birth mother.

And according to Tony, the Drakes had been neglectful too. They’d been gone for long periods of time and often enough that their tiny kid was regularly able to sneak out at night with little to no problem to some of the worst parts of Gotham just to take pictures of Batman and Robin.

Jason could just imagine him. A tiny little boy who looked like he was 6-7 years old instead of the 8-9 year old he really was in a large baggy sweatshirt that hid his camera, crouching behind chimney stacks, water towers, on fire escapes, and in tiny crevices just to get that perfect snapshot… so tiny no one noticed him if he held still enough, especially when shit was going down and eyes were only tracking movement. How many times had Jason missed seeing Tim, even when the kid was right under his nose?

“Don’t worry, Jason,” Tony said, “just think of it this way. Even though you never suspected anything for the two years you were Robin, just remember that Bruce had been completely clueless for nearly four years.”

That was actually a good point and it made Jason snicker. So much for the World’s Greatest Detective.

“Please tell me you still have some of those pictures,” Jason said, looking at Tim. “I bet you’ve got some really good ones.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tim stammered. “I moved all of the hard copies here last summer.”

Tony hadn’t stopped beaming the entire time they’d been sitting on the couches. He jumped at the mention of Tim’s pictures and went to a spot in the wall that Jason had never realized was a safe. They spent the entire night looking through the photos, even the ones Tim had been reluctant to show Jason from his own Robin days.

Listening to the kid and watching him talk as he described what was going on in every picture was very informative. The kid had an Eidetic Memory like Tony so he could recall everything going on in each shot, and remembered how he’d managed to take it. It helped Jason remember a lot about his time as Robin when they went over his pictures. It was easier for him to remember the good times he’d had with Bruce and as Robin. He could remember the utter joy and elation he’d felt the first time he’d flown and patrolled the streets. Tim had captured him on his first night perfectly, his grin wide as he crested the apex of a swing, Batman’s shadow a dark protective blur behind him.

“Thank you for showing me these,” Jason said, smiling softly as he picked up a picture of him smoking a cigarette while in uniform alone on a rooftop across from the police station where the backlit outlines of Commissioner Gordon and Batman could be seen in front of the lit Batsignal.

“Sure,” Tim said, smiling hesitantly as he began to put away the photos. “You can keep these if you want. I still have the negatives and can always make new prints.

“Thanks. And...I’m...sorry, Tim,” Jason said, handing the picture back. “I… You…”

Damn it. Words were failing him. What could he say? Sorry for slitting your throat? Sorry that I wiped the floor with you in front of your little team of super friends?

“We can always start over,” Tim suggested softly, smile still hesitant, and Jason hated that his eyes kept returning to Tim’s throat. To that scar. He’d done that.

“I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again,” Jason admitted. “I’m… several different sorts of fucked up.”

“But you’re getting better,” Tony said, encouragingly.

“I’m still an asshole,” Jason huffed.

“So am I,” Tony snorted. “And I doubt therapy is going to fix that.”

“Therapy?” Tim repeated, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“Yeah, Pep’s got us seeing a shrink every Tuesday and Thursday,” Tony admitted before quickly adding, “I’m only putting up with it to help Jason.”

“Sure you are, old man,” Jason scoffed.

“You’ve got him attending regular therapy sessions… Jason, I’m honestly wondering whether or not I should hug you right now. I’ve been asking him to seek some sort of psychiatric help since he returned from Afghanistan,” Tim said.

“Hug him anyway,” Tony said. “Jayce needs as many hugs as you do and Dick’s not here to supply his personal brand of comfort.”

Jason and Tim both made a face at that.

“Still a hugger?” Jason asked. Granted, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of many Grayson hugs, but he’d seen how much of a cuddle monster Nightwing was from observing Dick and his team.

“Like an octopus,” Tim groaned. “It would be nice if he weren’t so…”

“Clingy?” Jason snickered.

“I was going to say opportunistic, but yeah, that too,” Tim laughed.

“Oh?”

“He hugged me every chance he got after my mother passed away, and he’s started up again, now that my father is awake from his coma and is preparing to move out of the hospital,” Tim sighed.

“Speaking of Jack, how is he?” Tony asked.

“Frustrated,” Tim sighed. “But is promising to be a better and more attentive father this time around. He’s moving us out of Drake manor and into a Brownstone that’s more handicap accessible. He’s currently in a wheelchair and will be unable to use the upstairs, meaning that it’s all my space for now.”

“Must make it easy for sneaking out at night to patrol,” Tony mused.

Tim hummed in agreement and as the two continued to talk more about Jack Drake, his condition, and the pretty physical therapist he was seeing, Jason tuned the conversation out and watched Tiny Nim pater through the tubing that ran along the back shop wall. Wingnut was on one of the wheels again in the habitat above the minibar and it looked like Babster was thinking of kicking him off. Again. DUM-E and U whirred fretfully when she did, but it make Jason chuckle. And apparently regain Tim and Tony’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asked.

“Babster kicked Wingnut off a wheel again. He’s totally sulking,” Jason smirked as he watched the two hamsters he may have named after Dick and Babs.

“Oh my God, are those hamsters?! When did you get hamsters?!” Tim cried.

“They’re part of Jason’s pet therapy,” Tony explained.

“Are not,” Jason scoffed. “Batster, maybe, but the others are totally your doing, Tony. You’re the one who said he must have been lonely.”

“Batster?” Tim repeated, looking like he was torn between laughing and being appalled.

“The Bastard Hamster,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Who may or may not be named after a certain bastard bat,” Tony added.

“Oh my God,” Tim laughed, sounding a touch hysteric - clearly on the verge of losing it. “Do I even want to know what you named the others? Just how many do you have?!”

“Five.”

Tim ended up near tears he was laughing so hard when Jason told him their names. He felt quite proud of himself. His replacement wasn’t so bad after all.

Author’s Note:

So this chapter was really emotionally draining for me to write at times (hence why it's taken me so long to post it). I have a lot of love and sympathy for Jason Todd's character, so I really wanted to give him that chance at recovery. If he came off as too OC, I apologize. I didn't want to make his recovery seem too easy, so that's why the chapter didn't stop after Tony gets Jason to agree to come out to Malibu, even though that was what I'd originally intended. That and I wanted Jason and Tony to grow close again and to give Jason and Tim a chance to meet outside of Gotham and being Red Hood and Robin. I hope that this chapter was believable and kind of fun (the hamster thing came out of nowhere). Because I want this to be a happier Batman and Avengers verse, Jason and Tony are getting the help they need. I really love the bond that has developed between these to characters and with Tim's.

Next chapter will be a little more happier (I hope) and go back to the sort of playful mood the earlier chapters of this fic. Cassandra Cane and Stephanie Brown are going to make their appearances soon and the hijinks promise to be a lot of fun. Granted, I don't know much about either character (having only seen them in the Red Robin comics and read other reader's interpretations of them in fan fics) so I hope to do at least an adequate job, but they will probably end up OC. :P Any advice and info you guys can tell me about the characters would be great, guys.