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“Red.” Jason stopped, waiting for Tim to turn and face him, noting the set of the boy’s shoulders and the carefully constructed neutral expression on his face.
“What?”
Jason shifted his feet, clenching his fists. “I saw you take that bullet.”
Tim’s shoulders twitched, his cape swirling around his ankles. Jason couldn’t see any blood, at least not from where he stood, but he knew it was there, leaking from the boy’s shoulder.
“I didn’t,” Tim said nonchalantly. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, cool,” Jason said, striding up to him and reaching up with a hand. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn’t hurt.”
He shoved at Tim’s shoulder, and the boy ducked away, wincing despite himself at the sudden movement. “I said I’m fine, Hood. Leave me alone.”
Jason tilted his head. “You wanna try and lie to me again? Or you wanna let me help you dig that out?”
Tim stared at his feet.
“I mean, it’s up to you,” Jason said, spreading his hands. “But it’s me helping you, or B helping you, so pick your poison, Timbo.”
Tim scowled, clenching his jaw, and Jason sighed.
“C’mon, man. I gotta safehouse like two blocks from here.” Nothing. “Red?”
Tim swayed on his feet, his shoulders slumping, and Jason took another step forward, reaching a hand out to steady Red Robin. “Woah, kid. Okay, yeah, you’re for sure coming with me.”
“I can’t –” Tim swallowed, pulling out of Jason’s reach. “I don’t trust you. Can’t.”
Jason’s stomach clenched. “Dude, I ain’t – I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?”
Tim looked up, and Jason could see the hesitation – the disbelief and mistrust – on the kid’s face even under his mask. He reached up to unlatch his helmet, knowing how cold the voice modulator made him sound. He left the domino on underneath, though, because they were still technically on patrol, dropping the helmet on the rooftop. He didn’t miss the way Tim flinched at the noise.
“Hey, kid, listen – I know we’ve got history, okay, and I’m not proud of that. I – I am sorry, for all it’s worth, cuz the things I was mad about, they weren’t your fault. And I ain’t asking for forgiveness, because I know I don’t deserve it, but I am asking that you at least let me call B before you bleed to death on some random building.”
Tim stayed quiet for a long time, studying Jason, breaths getting heavier the longer he stood there. Jason was about to give up, to knock the kid out and just drop him back at the Cave and make him Bruce’s problem, when Tim reached up towards his earpiece and pulled it out.
“Don’t call B,” he whispered, staring hard at the comm as he rolled it between his fingers.
Jason blinked. “What?”
Tim straightened up. “I’ll go with you, just – don’t call B.”
As badly as he wanted to unpack that, Jason decided to take what he’d been given. “Okay, kid. You think you can walk?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay close, okay?” Jason bent to pick up his helmet, rolling the heavy thing over in his hands. “It ain’t far, but, y’know, it’s –”
“It’s Crime Alley,” Tim finished, a ghost of a smile turning into a halfhearted grimace. “I know.”
The walk back to Jason’s safehouse was as uneventful as he could have wished for – even in their hero gear, they didn’t garner too much attention from civilians at this time of the night. Jason kept an eye open for the criminals they’d been fighting earlier, especially after a loud noise caused Tim to grab onto the back of his jacket with unsteady hands. The kid was fading, and fast, his adrenaline wearing off and blood loss starting to kick in the further out they got from the fight.
“Okay, dude,” Jason said, stopping in front of the building his safehouse rested in. “Time for the fire escape. You up for it?”
Tim nodded sluggishly, and Jason leaned to the side to try and get a better look at the kid’s face. “How dizzy are you right now?”
“M’fine.”
“Yeah, okay.” Jason caught Tim’s arm and pulled the kid over his shoulders to sit piggyback, wincing at the way the kid grunted on impact, and jeez, Tim was bony. Jason adjusted his grip, making sure Tim’s arms were secure around his shoulders before preparing to make the jump for the fire escape’s ladder. “Sorry, Red. Hold on tight for me, okay?”
Steeling himself, he jumped up, catching the bottommost ring of the ladder and pulling the both of them up until he could get his feet under him. He went to set Tim on his feet again, but the kid’s legs didn’t seem to want to take his weight, so Jason hoisted him back up onto his shoulders and continued marching up the stairs until they’d reached the window of his apartment. “You gotta stand up now, kid. We won’t both fit through this window at the same time.”
Tim grunted an agreement, sliding down to lean against the wall beside them, but standing nonetheless. His hand lingered on Jason’s jacket until the older man had to move away, bending down to disarm the many locks and alarms he’d put in place when he rented the apartment. He opened the window and straightened, brushing his gloves off and reaching for Tim’s elbow. “C’mon.”
Tim followed his lead, stepping into the apartment and immediately sliding to sit on the floor. Jason hopped in after him, shutting the window and reaching to haul his little brother off of the floor. “Can’t go to sleep yet, kid. Gotta get that bullet outta you first.”
Tim muttered something, probably calling Jason a couple of choice names as Jason deposited him on the couch instead of the floor. “Don’t go anywhere. And try not to bleed all over my couch.”
Tim barked out a laugh. “Okay.”
Jason stepped into the apartment’s tiny kitchen, reaching above the fridge for the first aid basket and dropping it on the counter. Antiseptic, needle, thread, lidocaine, gauze – arms full, he returned to the couch and dropped the supplies next to Tim, who immediately reached for the antiseptic. Jason caught his hand, but let go when fear flashed in the kid’s eyes. “Woah, hey, what’re you doing?”
“Need to clean the wound.”
“Yeah, and that’s what I’m here for,” Jason said. “Start stripping, kid. I need a clear view of this thing and I definitely ain’t gonna get that through your suit and cape.”
Tim tensed. “Do you – do you have other clothes?”
“Duh,” Jason scoffed. “What kind of safehouse do you think I keep?” He reached for the antiseptic.”I’ll get you some when I’m sure you ain’t gonna bleed all over them too.”
Once Tim’s cape and mask had been discarded and the top half of his suit eased away from his shoulder, Jason let out a low whistle. “Dang, kid. You jump right in front of the guy, or what?”
“Basically,” Tim said, hissing through his teeth as Jason pulled him forward to look for an exit wound. Based on how much the kid was bleeding, he figured he’d find one – and he was right, as the torn skin on the back of Tim’s shoulder gave itself away.
“Well, you got lucky,” Jason said. “Looks like we won’t have to dig metal out of you after all. That means no lidocaine, though.”
“Yeah,” Tim grunted, accepting the gauze Jason handed him and applying pressure to the front of his shoulder while Jason worked on the back. His voice was tight as they worked, but steady, even when Jason ran the antiseptic over the wound to try and prevent infection. “Real luck, that one.”
Jason grinned, wrapping Tim’s shoulder tightly over the layers of gauze, then clapped the kid on his good shoulder. “You won’t die, but have Alfred look at it when you get home to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
Tim nodded jerkily, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. Jason paused, but when Tim didn’t say anything, he grabbed the first aid supplies and carried them back to the kitchen. After a moment’s thought he pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. Tapping the bottom of the bottle against the kid’s arm, he unscrewed the cap and held it, along with two painkillers and some over-the-counter antibiotics, out to him with a nod. “Drink this. All of it. And swallow those. You hungry?”
Tim shook his head, already tossing the pills back, so Jason went to change clothes, the civvies he left at each safehouse a little dusty but otherwise clean. Washing the blood off his hands before dropping his Hood gear on the floor of the closet, he ran wet fingers through his hair in an unsuccessful attempt to tame the curls.
He tossed Tim a change of clothes too, a pair of pants and a shirt that would definitely be too big for him but would have to do, and ran some cold water to soak the kid’s suit in until they could get it washed right at the Manor. He hesitated a moment when he pulled the electronics off of Tim’s suit, then turned the kid’s tracker off before setting the gear in the closet with his own.
Tim was still sitting up on the couch when he finished, but the kid’s eyes had gone unfocused. He looked real pale in the overhead light, and Jason wondered how long he had until Tim passed out on him entirely. He stepped forward slowly, waiting until the kid reacted to his footsteps before speaking out loud.
“You can have the bed, if you want.” He rubbed his neck, feeling suddenly sheepish. He wasn’t used to the feeling, and decided immediately that he didn’t like it very much. “Won’t be the first time I’ve stayed on this couch.”
Tim shook his head.
“Okay, then at least lie down, man. You’re not going anywhere else tonight so you might as well take a nap before someone from the Manor comes to get you.”
Tim’s eyes shot to his face. “You called them?”
“No,” Jason said slowly. “But they’re gonna come get you eventually, kid. I don’t think your old man is gonna like the idea of you staying with me very much once he finds out.”
“Oh.” Tim shifted, wincing as his shoulder rolled back, but kept watching Jason warily. Jason took a breath, channeling as much softness as he could from his Robin days into his voice. He was rusty, after being Red Hood for so long, but it was still there, buried under the meanness he had to carry in order to get things done.
“Go to sleep, Tim. I swear on my life, kid, nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore tonight.” He locked eyes with Tim, who somehow looked so much like Dick and Bruce, and yet, so different. “Especially not me. You’re safe here, baby bird. You don’t gotta worry anymore.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Dick calls me that.”
“I know.” Jason sat on the edge of the coffee table, his knee nearly touching Tim’s. He held out the comm he’d taken out of Tim’s hand earlier, palm up and open. “Call him, if you want.”
Tim glanced at the comm, then shook his head, pulling his legs up onto the couch and half-settling into the cushions. “Tired.”
Jason huffed out a half-sigh, half-laugh and stood to grab a blanket off the back of the couch, tossing it over to Tim. “Go. To. Sleep.”
The boy grumbled, but shifted to lay against the armrest and pulled the blanket up to his chest. In a few minutes he was sound asleep, arm cradled carefully across his stomach. Jason exhaled, relieved at the relative silence of the apartment, and stood to go to bed himself, double-checking the locks on all the windows and doors before falling onto his mattress. He was almost asleep before his cellphone rang from the bedside table, where he’d left it charging before going on patrol.
He groaned, rolling over to grab it and barely glancing at the caller ID before picking up. “Dickhead.”
“Where is he?” Dick’s voice was tight, tense, and Jason rubbed a hand over his face. “I saw him in Crime Alley and now his tracker’s off and he won’t respond to his comms and if you did anything to him, Hood, I swear –”
“Cool it, bluebird,” Jason snapped. “Your kid brother is fine. He’s with me.”
“What happened? Where’d his comm line go? Why didn’t you let him come back to the Manor?”
Jason sat up, bristling at the accusation in Dick’s tone. “I didn’t make him do anything, Dick. He chose to come with me.”
Dick paused. “Why?”
Jason scoffed. “Because he’s realized that after all this time, he really does love me more than you.”
“I am so not joking with you right now, Jason.”
“Jeez, Dick, the kid is fine. I mean, he took a bullet in Crime Alley a while ago, but he’s fine now.” He leaned over to glance out into the living room, where Tim hadn’t moved. “He’s sleeping it off right now.”
“Why didn’t he let us know what happened?” Dick’s voice was laced with more worry than anger now, and Jason knew that he was pacing the floor of the Cave, or the Manor, or wherever Dick happened to be at the moment.
“I’m sure it’s because of Batman’s warm and comforting nature,” Jason said sarcastically. “Y’know, that’s such a selling point to an injured teenager.”
“Oh, what? So he came to you for warmth and comfort? Yeah, those are really your strong suits, Jay.”
“Look, like I said, I didn’t make the kid come. I just had the closest safehouse and a bottle of painkillers, alright? I’ll drop him back at the Manor in the morning and then you can all go back to ignoring me.”
“Jay –”
“Don’t, Dick. I get it. It’s fine. I’ll text you tomorrow and you can tell Bruce where to come get his kid.”
He hung up, tossing the phone to the other side of the bed and flopping back onto his pillow with a shaky exhale. Since he’d been back, there had been fights, and lines drawn, and fragile relationships broken, and things with the family didn’t seem to be getting any better.
Well, until tonight. The fact that Tim had come back with him, had let him help instead of calling Bruce in to bring him back to the Manor before the big bad Red Hood could hurt him.
He laid there until the sun started to rise outside of his window and it was about time to make some coffee. Rolling to his feet, he rolled his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair as he stepped into the living room.
Tim woke with a start the moment he entered, sitting near upright with a strangled cry. Jason stopped in his tracks, hands held up in surrender. “Chill, kid, it’s just me.”
Tim sat up with a groan, propping himself up on his good arm. “You know I’m, like, two years younger than you, right?”
“You’re eighteen?”
Tim scowled. “Seventeen.”
“That’s what I thought. It’s three years, Timbers, and besides, you’re gonna be my kid brother no matter how old we are, so get used to it.”
Tim stared hard at him, to the point of making Jason uncomfortable. He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“I just –” Tim turned to face him, planting his feet firmly on the floor. “I didn’t know you thought of me as your brother.”
“Yeah, I mean –” Jason cleared his throat, moving into the kitchen in order to duck out of Tim’s gaze and calling back over his shoulder as he went. “Bruce is legally our father, so, yeah. I guess that means we’re technically brothers.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Tim stood slowly, swaying a little but steadying himself on the edge of the couch.
Jason cleared his throat again, changing the subject. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Hurts, but I’ll survive. Can I make some coffee?”
“Already on it.” Jason poured grounds into the filter, stuffing it into the top of the coffee pot and pushing the button to make it brew. “Dick called last night.”
“Yeah?” Tim followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “What did he want?”
“Y’know, the usual,” Jason shrugged, reaching into the cabinet for the box of pop-tarts. “Making sure I didn’t kill you in your sleep, that kind of thing.”
Tim didn’t comment, just picked at the pop-tarts Jason handed him and cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d do that. Just . . . so you know.”
“It’s fine, Tim. I get it, I have a track record. Just eat your breakfast so Bruce can come get you.”
Tim nodded. “I think –” He stopped.
Jason set a set of mugs on the counter. “What?”
“I think you should try again,” Tim said cautiously, watching Jason for his reaction. “With the family.”
Jason barked out a bitter laugh. “Good one.”
“I’m serious.” Tim leaned his elbows on the counter, keeping most of his weight off of his bad shoulder, his posture relaxed and open. “They miss you.”
Jason’s grin disappeared, and the familiar ache in his chest that he told himself was anger started to reappear. “Don’t. Don’t do that to me.” He slammed the cabinet door harder than he should’ve and Tim flinched in spite of himself.
“They do,” he insisted, straightening to look Jason in the eyes. “Especially Bruce and Dick. Ever since . . .” He paused. “Just because they don’t know how to fix things doesn’t mean they don’t want you back.”
“Yeah? They sure have a funny way of showing it.”
“You haven’t exactly been the harbinger of peace lately, Jason,” Tim said softly. “And when have you ever known B to express what he’s really feeling in a way that makes sense?”
Jason shifted uncomfortably, trying not to linger too long on the fact that Tim had called him by his name. “They won’t trust me again. Not after everything I’ve done.”
“Not at first, no,” Tim conceded. “But trust goes both ways. You can’t ask them to give theirs to you if you don’t stop expecting the worst of them.” He sighed. “It’s hard, to let people back into your life after they hurt you. I get that. And trust me, I’m not really your biggest fan, but . . .” He glanced down at his hands, folded on the counter. “After all the people we’ve lost, if we have any kind of shot at being some sort of a family again, I think that we owe it to each other – and to ourselves – to give it a try.”
Jason watched him carefully, looking for any signs of dishonesty in the kid’s face, but Tim met his eyes steadily and didn’t look away. Pulse racing, Jason took a breath, then another, wondering if it was really possible for them to be a family again. If Bruce could forgive him, if Dick could look at him the way he had when they were kids and ruffle his hair and call him Little Wing, if Tim would ever be able to be in the same room as him without jumping when Jason moved. If they could clear the slate, wipe the red from their ledgers, and try again.
All these things ran through his head, echoing around his brain and leaving him rattled, but what he said was, “I think you should call Dick.”
Tim hesitated, his eyes staying on Jason’s a moment longer, before dropping his gaze. “Yeah.”
They waited in silence for the knock on the door. Tim didn’t push him, and Jason didn’t offer anything up, both of them watching their hands until Jason’s phone chimed with Dick’s I’m here text.
“I’ll get your stuff,” Jason said, letting Tim be the one to unlock the door and greet their brother. He grabbed the Red Robin suit out of his dryer and Tim’s cape, mask, and gear from the floor of his closet, tossing it all in a backpack.
Dick’s hand was on Tim’s arm when Jason joined them, the older man checking Tim over despite his protests. Jason cleared his throat, announcing his presence, and Dick’s gaze was wary when he looked up.
“I told you, he’s fine,” Jason said, voice carefully guarded. He held out the backpack to Tim. “Here’s your stuff, Tim.”
Dick reached for the bag, grabbing it before Tim could and slinging it over his shoulder. He nodded to Jason. “Thanks.”
Jason inclined his head in response, and Dick turned to leave. Tim looked at him for a moment longer before following, but turned back in the doorway when Jason called his name.
“Hey, Tim?”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Jason inhaled slowly. “I’ll think about what you said. About, y’know, giving things another try.” He glanced at Dick, whose brow was furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but . . . you’re right. We deserve it.”
Tim grinned, and for the first time, something like hope – like trust – passed between them. “I’ll see you around, Jay.”