Chapter Text
None of the Bats would approve, which is in part why Jason does it at all. It meaning inviting Tim to join him in the backseat of Bruce's Maserati, leaving the two of them alone in the parking lot three blocks away from the gallery.
Jason had walked out of those front doors without any hint of stopping. He hadn't bothered to check if Tim followed; somehow, without question, Jason just knew that he would.
The valets outside the entrance had given them startled looks. They must have made quite the sight: Jason stalking out into the streets of the Diamond District in his best clothes, while somehow still managing to look ratty next to Tim, the slight man in the tux who had no business being able to match Jason step by step.
Now is when it becomes difficult to breathe. The car door clicks shut almost soundlessly behind him, and Tim slides into his seat with utmost ease, similarly silent.
It's unsettling how comfortable Tim seems to be in his presence. What does one make of it, the idea that Jason's been thrust into another one of these goddamn games? The knowledge that the person sitting with such quietude across from him seems to hold all the aces, at that?
"What is it?" Jason says bluntly when Tim's gaze lingers on the empty driver's seat in front of him.
Tim shakes his head after a brief pause.
"Nothing. Just wondering why Alfred isn't here tonight. Must be his joints again," he says like he's simply thinking out loud, and Jason resists a sudden, vicious urge to slam him against the car door. Tim raises his hands in a defensive pose, ready to protect himself. "I told you, Jay—you know me, just like I know you. I swear on my life I'm not a threat. To any of you."
"Your word means jack shit, Drake."
Tim inhales deeply.
"Alright. I swear on Robin," he says calmly, like the statement doesn't tilt the whole world on its axis. "Please, Jason. I'm who I say I am—"
"But you haven't," Jason cuts in, voice cold and hard. "You still haven't told me who the fuck you are."
"I'm a Bat, just like you." Tim's words fill him with a white hot anger, and Jason's eyes flash in unspoken threat. He squares his shoulders, sitting up straighter in his seat, "I can prove it."
"You have five minutes."
"I can do it in two."
He lets Tim reach into his pocket. Jason doesn't need a weapon to take care of him when it comes to that; and besides, there are five other people in that gallery ready to dispatch the threat at any given moment.
Tim pulls out a phone of all things. He swipes through it, and at Jason's narrowed eyes, tilts the screen towards him with an amused chuckle that makes his stomach twist. Tim stops scrolling on a contact and presses call.
"Uncle Clark?" he says when the line connects.
"Tim," Superman greets Tim warmly. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, for the most part. Are you busy?"
"At the Watchtower, but things are quiet right now." Superman sounds amused, if a little surprised, but—Jason is just fucking baffled. "What is it?"
"I'm with Jason right now," Tim says, and Jason's eyes dart back from the phone towards him. He's been studying Jason's reaction this whole time; if Jason's right about it, he may even be nervous. "He doesn't remember who I am. Neither do the other Bats."
There's a brief pause. "Is there anyone I need to contact? Zatanna, perhaps?"
Tim just shakes his head even though Superman can't see him. "No, I think I can handle this one. Not the weirdest thing to happen in Gotham, that's for sure."
"Alright. Well, Hood, you can trust Tim," Superman says, to the point. "He's a friend."
That's not what Tim had said. Tim called them family.
Jason tenses suddenly, realizing he's being addressed. Superman hadn't really liked him as Robin, and unlike the others Jason had certainly never been invited to call him "Uncle Clark".
Tim's still looking at him with that intense, unfathomable gaze.
"Heard all the kids were in Fawcett last Saturday," Jason drawls, a non sequitur. It's through sheer willpower that he keeps his heartbeat as slow as it is. "Big Red Cheese have a birthday party or something?" He raises an eyebrow at Tim in challenge.
"I think the, uh—the little red cheese had something that day," Tim offers.
The face Jason makes at that is not of his own volition.
"Ah," Superman has the gall to chuckle. "Yes, Billy invited Jon and Damian to his school's baseball game. They managed to reach quarterfinals, if you believe it," he adds. It's both completely unnecessary and unfairly chipper, in Jason's opinion.
A tut in his earpiece corroborates the story: Captain Marvel or Shazam, or whatever the hell it is Billy Batson goes by now, is friends with the batbrat and his superfriend at least.
It isn't enough for him. It sure as hell won't be enough for Bruce, either.
Jason gives a grunt instead of any proper response. They seem to take it positively, and Tim hangs up soon after.
An awkward silence.
"The rest of them got that, right?" Tim finally asks.
The distinct absence of chatter in his earpiece is more telling than anything they could say.
When the Maserati's autopilot kicks into gear, it's direct confirmation of Bruce's decision. The navigation dashboard displays them en route to the Manor.
It makes Jason's brow knit in consternation.
He leans just the slightest bit away from Tim, who looks disappointed. They're quiet on the whole trip to the Cave.
Tim keeps looking at him.
Stephanie, who'd arrived at the Cave before they did, seems to notice too.
"He can't really be who he says he is," she says. Stephanie crosses her arms and side-eyes Tim as he sits inoffensively in a holding cell. She's been cagey all evening, not just because of Tim but seemingly Jason too.
It isn't his fault that his mind had gone blank when Stephanie asked him what the hell they were supposed to do with Tim. Jason still feels off-kilter from the last hour and a half with the guy, and most of that time had been spent in silence, even.
"Why not?" Jason says offhand, more to be a pest than anything else. "He went in there himself, didn't he?"
Frankly, he thinks it's ridiculous that Tim's in the Cave at all. The guy is clearly a threat, and one who knows some of the most closely kept secrets in the superhero community.
There are any number of explanations for what happened in the car: first, voice altering technology to name the most straightforward of them all, but Barbara would have torn that theory apart if given even the slightest indication that were the case. Next came the shapeshifters, the sorcerers, the reality benders… Jason could go on.
Yet Bruce had trusted that minute-long, secondhand interaction he'd had with Superman.
Jason doesn't know what to make of that, either.
"Hood," Stephanie interrupts his thoughts before they take them somewhere he doesn't want to go. "I don't like this," she mutters.
"Spoiler," Jason says, and then rolls his eyes at her glare. "Batgirl. Whatever." He barely manages not to mirror her pose to mask his discomfort. "I know. You've made your stance clear."
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Her intense, accusing stare is as unnerving as all of the other Bats'. "What do you think about all this?"
With a low exhale, Jason lets his gaze wander of its own accord. Despite how much he wants to believe they have control over the situation, merely wanting isn't going to make it true. None of it makes any sense.
Neither does Tim's level stare as he meets Jason's own.
His steel blue eyes are half-lidded, while the coat of his previously-immaculate tux lays discarded to the side, rolled up shoddily in the corner of the cell. Tim's figure is striking even as he sits on the floor, one leg outstretched and an arm resting lazily on his other bent knee.
He's handsome. Almost birdlike. But there's a danger to him that Jason's only just been able to recognize.
As though Tim can hear his thoughts, his lips curve into a small smile, and it makes Jason quickly turn away.
"I don't know," Jason replies with a loose shrug. He doesn't care to know. "It's none of my business, anyway."
"You're leaving?" Stephanie asks tightly, but otherwise doesn't react outwardly. A Bat through and through. "Just like that?"
"Yep," is all he says.
It feels like a disservice to all the work they've put into mending their relationship that Jason regrets it immediately.
This—it's everything he wants. Jason wants to go home. And this is the closest he's come to it in years. It's unfair. It's unfair how one person's sudden appearance has thrown a wrench into his life like nothing he wants even matters. He's bitter and angry and upset and afraid, because this'll ruin everything. Tim is ruining everything by making him go back.
It's strange to be able to pinpoint the exact moment one starts to spiral.
Jason needs to stop.
He starts over.
Jason's lashes flutter as he opens his eyes slowly. He hadn't even realized he shut them in the first place.
Stephanie's lips are a tight, displeased line. "At least stay until the others get here."
"I think you can handle a babysitting gig by now, Blondie," Jason scoffs. "The guy's five foot seven and probably a hundred thirty pounds soaking wet."
"Sure," Stephanie says mockingly, like Jason's just some kid. "And the only reason he's sitting in that cell right now is because he has a hard on for you, so. Yeah, no. You're staying, Hood."
Jason bristles, temper flaring. He's getting tired of being the butt of tonight's joke.
"You going to make me?" he says, low and dangerous.
"No," Stephanie admits without even an ounce of shame. "You could lay me out with one hand behind your back, probably. You wouldn't even need a gun." An exaggeration by far, but she's trying to make a point, not suck up to him.
And here comes the punchline—
"But you wouldn't do anything to hurt me, anyway," she declares plainly. "I mean not really. Not in any way that matters."
Jason stares.
"You know who you're talking to, right?"
Her gaze is clear and honest when she looks at him.
"Yeah. You're a stubborn motherfucker, Jason Todd. But you're one of us," she says with finality, before tilting her head towards Tim, "and even he seems to know that better than you."
He hears a ruckus coming from the direction of the stairs leading up to the Manor, but Jason doesn't pay any mind to it; he can't, not when he's drawn towards the cell once more.
Tim mouths something at him through the glass.
"Jason," Bruce says, sounding less like Batman and more like himself. It's just another thing that's wrong, yet suddenly it's the reason Jason can breathe again.
He licks his lips and drags his attention away from the cell—
Only to freeze when he sees Bruce's gaze piercing directly through him.
Bruce is looking at Jason when Tim is right there only a few feet away. Worry isn't what he'd call that expression, but he doesn't know what else it could be; after everything that's happened tonight, anxiety is normal, isn't it? To be expected, even. But to see that intense stare directed towards him when there are more pressing matters in front of them is jarring.
He should be pleased with the attention. But now when Jason tries to latch onto that feeling, it slips right through his fingers like sand.
"What do you make of it?" Bruce asks him, even though Tim is right fucking there.
The confusion in the sound Stephanie makes behind him matches Jason's own. He hasn't been caught off guard like this in a long time; not even earlier when Tim had dropped bombshell after bombshell on him.
"I…"
A brief glance at Tim shows him giving Bruce a long, considering look. Like he doesn't know what to make of it either. For the first time that night, his attention isn't on Jason at all; the expression on his face, the glint in Tim's eyes—
It's the exact one he's seen on Bruce's face countless times before.
Tim's mouth forms around Bruce's name but remains unheard through the soundproofing of the cell.
While Bruce doesn't react outwardly, Jason knows he can tell he's being addressed. He gives no acknowledgment at all.
Tim's expression flashes in such startling anger that Jason finds himself holding his breath; the foreignness of it is as much a comfort as it is something to be afraid of. Tim looks away from Bruce, smoothing the emotion from his face, and stares outside the glass with a solemn air.
Three sets of footsteps stop anyone from saying anything else.
Duke appears first, a stubborn set to his brow, followed by a deceptively loose-limbed Dick, while the kid follows behind both of them at a distance. Unlike Damian, however, Cassandra is nowhere to be seen; similarly, Barbara hasn't made herself known, but Jason knows she's been present the entire time, of course.
They make a pretty picture in the Cave: the men in their pleated dress shirts and satin-trim trousers; the two girls, one on the rafters above, with her shimmery black dress hiked up to her thighs; the other with damp blonde hair curling against her cheek, at her throat, over the divots of her collarbones.
And Jason—he doesn't understand it, but there's a brief, heart-stopping moment when he makes eye contact with Tim and thinks:
We fit.
"Okay, can I just take a moment to say what everyone else is thinking?" Stephanie finally cuts in, irritated but still seemingly wary of Bruce's looming presence in the center of this space. It's surprising it's taken her this long to speak up at all. "Yeah, this is bullshit."
Things devolve into chaos.
"He is telling the truth," Cassandra says first, but this is hardly one of those times when that would settle things from the get go.
"Tt," Damian dismisses her words immediately. "No matter how tight our defenses, there always exists the risk of exposure. Of infiltration."
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Pretty elaborate story for a plant, though."
"We've heard weirder," Dick says dryly. "Either way, he's dangerous."
Damian's face remains clouded over even as he agrees. "Batman has any number of enemies with the ability to learn of our inner workings. By claiming we as a collective have lost all memories of him, they have—"
"Who is this 'they'? You ever heard of Occam's razor?" Duke's voice raises towards the end.
"That's not the point he's trying to make," Steph protests.
Jason can hardly believe he's the one who has to get people back on track. "The point," he stresses, trying to remain neutral, "is that there are easier ways to 'infiltrate' a team of superheroes."
It's then that Barbara finally gives her input. "He's taking advantage of your naiveté."
"He has not done anything."
"As of now, he should be treated as a prisoner—"
"Are you guys for real right now? He is sitting right there!" Duke gestures at Tim incredulously, making Jason grunt because yeah.
"And he is not deaf," come Cassandra's blunt words, in tandem with the movement of Tim's lips, not that they can hear him.
After the night they've had, it's clear everyone's done with all this shit.
Jason presses his eyes shut against the throbbing of the headache he's had all evening, resisting the urge to rub at his temples. He counts backwards from ten to calm himself, nine, eight, seven, six…
… Zero comes like a shock of anesthetic.
His eyes snap open at the sudden sound of slamming against glass—and then there's Tim, eyes wide in fear and mouth open in a silent scream.
And,
In front of Jason—clutching at his head, blood dripping from his nose, staggering to the ground, there's—
"Bruce!"