Chapter Text
For a spur-of-the-moment plan, Jason was doing pretty damn well.
He'd been set to leave Robin sprawled across the Titan Tower's floor when he realized that no one would be there for hours. His teammates had all been scarily easy to drug, considering they were supposed to be elite fighters with enhanced senses. Golden boy's old squad might not have done any better but he'd never tried to slip a League of Shadows special to any of them. These guys had one hard fight and one large pitcher of filtered water he had thoroughly drugged. They were even thoughtful enough to label their leftovers. The worst that would happen to them was a lot extra time in a drugged sleep. True to his reputation, Robin ignored rehydrating after the battle and went straight to coffee maker labeled with a hand-drawn Robin emblem. The rest of the kid's team slept through the entire fight and the Tower was silent after he knocked the kid out with one too many blows to the head. He could have kept going with beating the kid but whaling on him when he was unconscious just felt like he was hitting a pinata that didn't have any candy inside.
He'd hauled the kid up on his shoulder and walked right out of the Tower. He had been using a rusted-out utility van because it was the best thing for storing all of his guns and gear in the rougher parts of town where he liked to hang out. The long drive from Gotham had given him time to make a list of priorities for the too-short fight and work out a few more details to handle once he was back in Crime Alley. The van looked awful but it handled just fine. Nobody wanted to mess with something when they weren't sure which gang might be protecting it and his ride was generic enough that no one would be quite sure who claimed the goods.
He'd left the back of the van open to have an easier time heading out fast. It made it a lot easier to drop Robin's unconscious form next to his duffel bag of gear. He would need to start driving soon if he didn't want the Justice League on top of him while he was still in their parking garage. He rifled through his things and broke out the zip ties. Wrists behind his back, tight, with a few zip ties next to each other for good measure. Ankles together, such a shame how that broken bones moved around in the right lower leg when he linked the wrists to the ankles. The cape stripped apart so easily with the right knife at the right angle and that'd do for a gag. No need to hear jabber while he was busy driving. He packed his guns into a duffel and stowed it in the passenger-side footwell, leaving his new cargo in the back with no padding.
The kid was still unconscious when he stopped at a gas station outside of Reno. He filled the tank and paid cash for a few cheap pay-by-minutes phones, two rolls of aluminum foil, half a gallon of milk, and a breakfast burrito. He spent a couple minutes programming a number into the phones and eating breakfast. Such a shame the kid was sleeping right through a meal, he seemed to have missed dinner. He'd miss the first call home, too. There was no use waiting for the kid to wake up if he was going to be all day about it.
Jason put his helmet back on and opened the first roll of aluminum foil. When he knew just what he wanted to say, he reached for the first phone and pressed his brand-new speed dial.
The phone picked up halfway through the first ring but there was silence on the other end of the line. Protocols never changed, not even when they really should have been updated. Such a pity. It might've been a good idea if Batman knew to never let a Robin out of his sight if he dared to keep one around again.
Jason would just have to make sure Batman knew Robins were never safe.
“I'm calling about your missing bird.”
“I think you may have the wrong number,” Batman said in an oddly light tone. He was probably trying to not sound too out of whack in case this was a mere wrong number, not someone intentionally dialing the emergency line for a stranded sidekick with a broken comm. Just as he'd thought, this time of day Batman would be sitting at his computer writing reports that no one else would read. It was five in the morning in Gotham and there hadn't been any police bulletins or headlines to say Batman had accomplished anything important the night before.
“Really,” Jason drawled, pushing the synthesizer to the limit. He needed to sell it, after all, otherwise the game wouldn't be nearly as much fun. “That sure is a shame. Bright plumage, scrappy attitude, answers to the name of Tim... doesn't ring a bell?”
He smirked when he heard the Cave's plastic phone creak under Bruce's grip. It was always nice to know when Bruce was listening.
“If I even think I see a cape, I will kill him,” Jason said evenly. The synthesizer really was top of the line and let the delivery resonate without much help. Bruce was probably vibrating with rage by now. “I know a lot about you and your friends and you know jack shit about me. I'll call back in two hours. By then you should be satisfied that I do have the bird that you want and we can negotiate price.”
“Understood,” Batman growled.
Jason hung up. He turned the phone off, yanked the SIM card out, and wrapped the whole thing in foil, card and phone together, and stopped when he'd made it a little bundle ten times. That was enough to mess up Batman's day. Five layers of foil would've worked as a cheap Faraday cage for anyone else but the Bat deserved the extra caution. He was whistling when he took his helmet off and walked over to the gas station's trash can. The foil-wrapped phone went into the garbage right next to the emptied milk carton and burrito wrapper. No need to be messy, after all. He had all the trash he needed in the back of the van.
Said trash didn't move until he'd been driving for another half an hour. Maybe those extra whacks on the head near the end of the fight had been a little unnecessary but, well, they'd sure made Jason feel better.
The back of the van didn't have any windows. The doors also didn't open from the inside. He'd thought that there might be a mobster or two worth taking for a ride, sometime, so here he was all prepared. He just kept driving with his rearview mirror aimed right at the show.
The kid was staying pretty still, all things considered, but he gave himself away by trying to hold himself still. Jason was a responsible driver moving straight down the road. It was a shame the potholes were right in his path. When the kid actually braced himself instead of flopping like a sack of potatoes, it was clear that he was awake. He was keeping his eyes closed but Jason was pretty sure he'd noticed the lack of mask and the rest of the accommodations. He possibly should have splinted that leg already but he wasn't sure if it was going to matter yet. He'd walked into the Tower thinking he might kill the kid. That still might be the easier option. Batman would be sitting at the phone, though, and he wanted to ruffle his wings a little more before he moved on to something else.
Probably smart to keep still. Boring, though. Jason caught the kid's eyes open a couple times. The kid was doing his best to look dazed (and probably was, he had a heck of a shiner and everything around the left eye was swollen) but it seemed like he'd moved from studying the passenger-side sliding door (not working long before he'd bought the van) to the back doors. The kid could try those doors if he wanted. Those locked from the outside and all the hardware holding them closed from the outside hadn't interested any cops on the way to San Francisco.
He stopped fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to make the next phone call. It wasn't like Batman would dare complain if the call was late just because Jason got sidetracked.
The rest area was nearly deserted. There were only a few trucks on the far side of the squat building that might have vending machines to go with the plain bathrooms. He put his helmet back on before he squeezed between the front seats. It wasn't comfortable but it was worth keeping it a surprise that the back doors could open from the outside. Besides, going between the seats left him looming over the kid longer when he headed toward him with his roll of foil, cell phone, bottle of water, and the black-bladed knife he'd bought because it looked like he should kill zombies with it.
He'd expected a big reaction, something like a big flinch or more crying, but the kid looked at him with an oddly stoic face. It wasn't Batman-stoic, nothing that looked like a threat, but he looked a lot calmer than expected. That lasted right until the knife headed for his face. That got a flinch but the kid's eyes were wide open when Jason sliced through the strip of cape and tossed the gag aside.
“You missed the first phone call home,” Jason said. “Figured somebody'll want proof you're still alive if I'm going to get anything interesting for you. How much you think you're worth, anyway?”
The kid's calm demeanor wavered but Jason couldn't tell just which emotion was covering what – angry pretending to be calm or calm pretending to be angry. “Probably not as much as you want.”
Jason cut the tie that linked the kid's ankles and wrists and pretended he cared more about the pained look as blood started circulating than the brief moment of unguarded relief. The kid hadn't had any room to maneuver and suddenly that had seemed completely unsportsmanlike. If the kid defeated him by doing the worm, Jason deserved to lose.
“Told the Big Bad Bat that I'd nabbed you.” Jason should call him Tim. He should save that for later. It all seemed a lot less urgent after he'd gotten out of the Tower. He'd been imagining that scene for so long it was hard to transpose all the goals he'd considered to the back of his rusted out van. “Really didn't think I'd get this far. Your friends are heavy sleepers and should definitely be more careful about sedatives.”
The relief blooming across the kid's face at that was too bright for him to hide. “Y-yeah,” he said.
The idiot literally cared more about hearing his friends might not be dead than he had about having any degree of freedom. Jason didn't know what to do with that. He didn't know what the heck he was doing. He was inviting the entire Justice League to kick his ass, if Bruce's pride would bend that far, and this was one heck of a way to ruin his plan to get Gotham under control. If he gave up with one phone call, he might have more time to set Crime Alley to rights before Batman put it together. He should have thought this out better. He'd tossed the dumb phone in the trash right where he'd bought it, they might be able to track where he'd bought the phone and they would be smart enough to sift through the trash. Dumping a dead body at the side of the road might work out short-term but wearing gloves probably didn't matter much when he'd touched the phone to his cheek and thrown out a burrito wrapper with the phone. He didn't want to give the game away too early and his plans in Gotham were bigger than Robin.
The kid's eyes were bright. He had to be hurting but he was keeping his breathing easy and pretending he didn't notice the bottle of water. The gag had been bloody when Jason had pulled it out. The blow across the kid's face had made his left eye puffy but it had also left a livid bruise on his cheek.
“Here's the deal, Replacement. Your job is to make it clear you're alive and not piss me off. Do that and you might even make it home to the Bat.”
Jason had expected fear. The creeping horror was entirely different. Fear would be recoiling from Jason, begging, pleading, trying to crawl away... not the sight of those blue eyes going distant as he slumped back. “I'm guessing you don't want me to talk about the van.”
“Rumor said you had a brain in there,” he said mockingly. Jason would take the helmet off again at some point but the synthesizer really gave it all a nice edge. “Cry if you want. Should've recorded you last night but I was busy being surprised anybody trained by Batman held a staff like that.”
The kid's jaw clenched. “Is there something you'd like me to tell Batman? A name? Call sign?”
“I did skip introductions last time,” Jason said thoughtfully before deciding that he might as well have his fun. “I like to think I know you all pretty well, too, so it's not all that fair. Maybe you should be the one to tell Batman to be careful with the Red Hood, Tim.”
The kid's guileless blink was impressive. “Red Hood. Got it,” he said.
“Not all you got. Jackson's an interesting middle name.” Jason smiled behind the helmet when Tim's breath caught. “Not your mom's maiden name, either, so who knows where that came from. How soon should I expect to see Jack and Janet Drake popping up on the news in a tear-soaked press conference?”
Jason drank in the way the kid went chalk-pale. He was already pale by genetics and habits and blood loss. 'Tim' could have been a lucky guess, but not even this little bundle of nerves could stand up to that much of an information dump.
Jason laughed when he dialed the number into the second phone. He had it on speed-dial but it was more fun to let the kid's eyes get even bigger as Jason punched in the numbers one by one to a phone that no stranger should be able to reach.
The call was picked up just a moment into the first ring. “Batman.”
This was even more fun than the duffel bag full of heads. Batman was never careful enough with his toys.
Jason let the call stay silent for a few seconds before hitting the button for speaker phone and holding it towards the kid. “Well?”
“Batman,” the kid said, still pale and shocked. Now that Jason was looking at something aside from the fear, he could tell that one of the the kid's pupils was larger than the other, giving him a bit of a crazed look. “S-sorry. He knows who I am. Don't remember how. He calls himself Red Hood and made it into Titans Tower without setting off alarms. I don't know where we are.”
“Robin, that's okay. Are you injured?” Batman's voice sounded level to someone not paying attention. Jason could hear the rage underneath the calm veneer.
“Of course he is,” Red Hood interjected. It was easy to be faster than a concussed kid. “Nothing fatal yet but I don't live by your rules. You really think he would have left his little nest without a fight?” The break to the leg probably wouldn't kill him as long as the kid wasn't unlucky enough to get a bone marrow embolism or something really dumb. He took the phone off speaker and jammed it closer to his helmet. “Enough chit-chat. Price.”
“I don't know much about you, Red Hood. Not enough to guess what you might find valuable.”
“The Joker's decapitated head would make a nice paperweight but I'm guessing you would watch me kill the kid before you got your hands dirty.”
“If you wanted the Joker, you'd have the Joker,” Batman growled. None of his rage was hidden behind anything else. “You took Robin and called me. If all you want to see is what happens when I get angry, you won't be the first to play that game.”
“That's the whole problem, Bruce. You're careless,” Jason spat into the phone. “You don't take good care of your little tin soldiers and anyone could swoop in and pick them up. You trust all your operation to some dumb kid and act shocked when they aren't ready for the big leagues.”
“You're the big leagues, then.”
He laughed. The synthesizer took some of the hysterical edge off of it and left it more cynical than shocked. “I'm the one with Robin,” he taunted. “I'll call back in another hour or so. Maybe by then you'll have something worth saying.”
Jason powered down the phone instead of ending the call. He ripped the SIM card off and again wrapped the whole thing in a thick tube of aluminum foil sealed at both ends. He smirked at the Replacement's dazed eyes tracking the movements. He was pretty sure that the kid understood that the phone wouldn't be receiving any further signals but didn't bother to explain the finer points of Batman tech on a budget. “You stay put. Or don't. If you can manage to get out of here before I can get myself a drink, maybe I'll let you go.” He left the helmet on when he walked into the small rest station. If they had security cameras looking over two dingy bathrooms and a few vending machines, he thought that whoever found the footage deserved to see the full Red Hood.
He was only gone for two minutes. The phone went into the back tank of one of the toilets and he bought an energy drink. He thought about draining it there but that would ruin whatever security camera footage they eventually found.
The kid was between the front seats when he made it back, trying to pull himself up despite a badly-bruised left wrist. His legs were still bound together at the ankles but he'd borrowed Jason's knife to cut his wrists free. It looked like he'd gouged himself to manage that, by the new slice near the base of his left palm, but his hands were separated and he looked like he was trying to crawl over the driver's seat to escape. Maybe he'd tried out the back doors first.
Jason drew his gun. The kid couldn't tell that he was smiling with the helmet in place but Jason finally felt like he had a Robin in the back of the van. He liked him more for that. “Cute. Drop the knife.”
The kid dropped the knife. Jason swiped the knife, dropped it back into the duffel, and holstered his gun. The kid flailed when Jason reached in to pick him up by the cape and toss him into the back of the van. The flailing didn't make it any harder to throw him. The kid did a decent job trying to improve his landing position but he came down heavily right onto the broken right leg.
Jason set the helmet aside. He might just need peripheral vision on his side now that the kid had done something interesting. He didn't bother with a seatbelt. He'd already been dead once and it wasn't like he was offering the kid anything but the chance this might not end with him dead. Jason still wasn't sure what Bruce could give him other than the promise there would never be another Robin. Maybe that's what he'd ask for the next time he called. If he gave back one broken Robin, that was a token of goodwill. Any future Robin-ing or Robins would not get the same mercy. That'd probably work as long as the kid didn't do anything stupid enough to bring the rage back in the next hour or so.
The first fifty minutes were easy. The kid had rolled into a somewhat-comfortable position, curled on his side facing away from Jason. He hadn't said anything and the pattern of his breathing had looked like he was counting. Not a bad idea as a pain response when Jason was choosing back roads and these ones were not priorities for maintenance.
The kid had waited it out with meditative breathing for fifty minutes before he started moving. He pushed himself up and scooted over to use the back corner of the van as a seat. The two walls kept him up easily enough and he kept his legs straight out in front of him. That left him focusing on Jason instead of putting effort into holding himself up.
“Moving a bit slow there, Replacement?”
“Today, yeah.” Tim looked a bit green when Jason gunned the accelerator. Jason let off so he didn't end up with puke in the back of his van, not because the kid's eyes were starting to look cloudy and unfocused on top of mismatched. “I just can't figure out what you want.”
Jason laughed. If the kid wanted to talk, though, they could chat for a few minutes before he made another phone call. He pulled over to the shoulder of the empty highway. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
“Maybe it is,” he replied evenly. Tim's brow was furrowed, possibly from pain, possibly from the effort of not slurring his words. “You don't have to do this. If you want Robin back, leave me at the side of the road and I'll retire.”
For a second, it felt like green didn't exist. The utter shock of the kid's confidence made him forget why they were talking. If Jason wanted Robin back— There was no world where this kid could figure out in eight hours what Batman hadn't put together in weeks. Jason was not possibly that transparent.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
Tim looked him straight in the eyes. “Jason, you can have Robin back. You don't have to prove anything. You never had to prove anything to me. If you let me go, I will never tell Bruce you're the one that did this.”
The green haze creeping into his vision shaded the kid's pale and bruised face into something less stark. The blurring edges of the green smoke that obscured the road and the kid alike let him not see the stark edges of the black eye or the way the kid was bargaining against his own death. He wanted to say the kid was fucking with things he didn't know but that wasn't a kid with a cutting smirk and a winning plan. That was someone watching the timer count down and trying to negotiate with the bomb.
“You're delirious, kid,” he answered when the green faded down to a familiar jade tint instead of a smoke grenade coloring his world.
“Not that delirious,” the kid said with the same care for the words. He sounded like he was talking in slow motion and forming each one carefully. “You didn't just get into the Tower without setting off alarms. You knew your way around better than I do. You know the Cave phone line for help-my-comm-broke and that isn't written down anywhere.” The kid was looking at him with some strange expression he couldn't place. It almost looked like heartbreak. “You call me Replacement.”
“S'what you are,” Jason said, pretending he wasn't shaken. “Replacement Robin.” Sure, people said the new kid was not an idiot, but the kid was dealing with a concussion and broken bones and probably going to go into rhabdo if Jason didn't let him have a drink soon. He'd planned to give him water hours ago. The bottle was still rolling around in the back and the kid's arms were free but he had his eyes on Jason.
“Not one that anybody wanted,” Tim said and even Jason had to admit the kid sounded sad about it. “You died, Jason, and he was going to get himself killed. Batman's supposed to hold it together but he was completely crazy with grief. Nightwing wouldn't come back and nobody else would do anything. You don't have to think he just moved on. I wouldn't go away and he got used to me.”
Tim looked up at the rearview mirror to meet Jason's eyes. “He'll still take you back. He loves you and nearly got himself killed thinking that he hadn't told you often enough before you died. He misses you so much, Jason.” The first tears start, then, of all the stupid things to cry about when he could have cried about a concussion and hours restrained and a broken leg and no water.
Jason couldn't look at the mirror. Tim thought he was going to die and wasn't even going to beg for his life. “Kid. You're just concussed. Let's give Batman some ransom that isn't just a fucking joke and get this over with.”
Somehow, that made Tim flinch worse than threats, but Jason didn't care. He grabbed his duffel bag of supplies before he clambered into the back again. Jason wasn't sure why a new ransom was what would make Tim recoil until he opened the bag and found his knife right where he'd dropped it after Tim grabbed it, next to the aluminum foil.
The third phone was missing.
Tim looked at him with nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. “I muted the call before I started talking to you.”
Tim worked the phone out of a reinforced pants pocket and didn't flinch when Jason snatched it out of his hand.
The call was on mute, like he'd said. Call time: 52 minutes and 17 seconds, and still ticking up.
Tim looked up at him and Jason could barely recognize the kid who had fought him so hard just the night before. That kid had been safe and worried about a report he never finished and fought like a bottled hurricane even though Jason knew his favorite weapon and had spent a couple weeks working against the best bo staff fighters Talia could find. That had been Robin, fighting back hard and trying to save teammates that were in so much less danger than he was. Tim was only conscious through pain and fear and sheer will. Conscious wasn't enough.
It didn't matter how close the Bats might be. The road had been clear when Jason stopped and the gun was in his hand before he thought about it. Batman wasn't faster than a speeding bullet.
The kid blinked down the barrel of the gun, looking past the gun and up to Jason. “Bruce will still want you to come home,” Tim rasped. “He knows what the Lazarus Pit is like.”
Jason's domino mask was still on. At some point, though, he'd flipped the lenses down to focus on the road better and he guessed his eyes were as green as they'd ever been. The pad of his index finger was on the trigger. If he moved that finger, the kid was going to die. “Why the fuck would you... Tim, if I kill you, you will not be having a front-row seat at a reunion. You will be dead.”
“Guess that's your choice.” It should have been manipulative or defiant or daring. The kid's words were slurring, though, and he slumped down against the floor of the van.
Dazed blue eyes looked right into death and tried to save someone who didn't deserve it when he couldn't find a way to save himself.
Robin was only fifteen years old.
Batman was on his way.
Tim had been trying to hold out, clearly, but he was about eight hours past multiple breaks in that leg and a bad concussion and had still managed to steal a phone. If Jason had left the keys in the ignition, Tim might have been gutsy enough to steal the van while he made the call, but it wasn't like Jason had left out supplies for hot-wiring a car in two minutes. The phone felt like it was burning in his hand. He dropped it where Tim could reach it.
Tim had the phone and there was a non-zero chance Jason could hitchhike somewhere if he hid in the woods for a few hours and waited for Batman to swoop in and grab the replacement. There was a zero chance the kid was going to keep living if Jason kept standing here with a gun in his hand. Jason would still be furious with Bruce after killing some fifteen-year-old that had held it together through broken bones and a situation that he couldn't escape.
Jason didn't remember getting out of the van. The gun was still in his hand when he fumbled with his keyring to open the padlock holding the frame on the back of the van together. All the places he'd been, no one had even seen the kid, and he could have just dumped him hours ago and maybe he would have never admitted to himself that he had beat up a kid and killed him in cold blood because he was mad that Bruce hadn't saved Jason in time and had left another Robin in harm's way.
He wrenched both back doors of the van open. The kid had gotten his hands on the knife again and kept it pointed toward the threat. Jason realized belatedly that the kid was keeping an eye on him and finally holstered the gun. When the kid's grip on the knife remained white-knuckled, Jason looked up into the dark sky. There was no sign of a plane coming screaming in for a landing. There was no trace of a black car moving down the highway at an impossible speed.
“Kid – Tim,” he said. Jason wasn't sure why his voice sounded so rough when he hadn't been in any pain. The kid was great with a staff and Jason knew that. That's why he had used his bulk and stealth to move in close enough the kid never had a chance to set the terms of the fight or start to give himself space. It wasn't the kid's fault that he had been forced into a reckless move and an unlucky tumble down the stairs had ended with a sick snap, leaving him with a broken leg that couldn't support his leg and no time to get creative. It definitely wasn't Tim's fault that the fall had been almost immediately followed by Jason stomping down on the ankle and taking Tim's own staff to clock him on the head. “Tim, c'mon,” he coaxed when the only response was a blank-eyed stare. “Take the phone off mute and talk to him. Okay? Just use the phone.”
Tim slowly blinked at him. He was still sitting upright braced in the back corner of the van holding a knife.
Jason slowly reached past Tim to grab the phone. He probably deserved a stab wound or two but all he got was a view of the whites around Tim's eyes. This was it. He'd found the limits and Tim had lasted a lot longer than he had needed to. Tim hadn't even been making a risky ploy on sympathy and compassion. He'd been sitting in his own common room after a terrible mission and had looked so frustrated with whatever report he'd been putting together. He'd been sitting there in full mask like the glue didn't chafe after a while and if Jason had been less feral with rage he might have thought the kid needed a break and having someone tell him to just write down the most important points and put a full report together after he had enough sleep.
He pressed the button to take the phone off mute and held it toward Tim. When Tim looked at him blankly, Jason was the one to talk. His voice was so rough that he didn't miss the helmet.
“Where the fuck are you,” Jason growled. “I know you've been tracking the phone.”
That seemed to be the cue. He saw the latest version of the Batplane just a moment later as it soared down for a vertical landing. Maybe they'd been waiting for a clue that they wouldn't land just in time to watch the Red Hood kill Robin right in front of them. Maybe they'd just gotten close enough.
They landed just thirty yards away but the roar of the plane's engines and blast of air didn't get a reaction out of Tim. Jason dropped out of the back of the van and backed out of the path between the plane and the injured Robin. There was pissing off Batman and then there was wanting to end up in worse shape than Robin.
Batman leapt out of the Batplane, Nightwing directly behind him.
Jason wasn't sure what he had expected. He had thought about so many versions of seeing Batman again but most had been long-distance dreams of watching the Batmobile explode. He wanted a world where Batman understood that some criminals would never change and that Gotham's jails and asylums would never contain them. He wanted Batman to look him in the eyes and say that Jason was right and that Joker didn't deserve to live.
Batman stormed past Jason without a single glance in his direction.
Nightwing stepped between Jason and the van. There was a hard expression on his face with upturned lips that some idiot might mistake for a smile. Jason knew enough to recognize Nightwing was about one wrong move away from exploding into a towering level of rage.
“Gun,” Nightwing demanded. “Now.”
Jason could have fought. He could have said something cutting or tried to aim the gun at center mass. He could have been dumb enough to quip when Nightwing was already furious. He didn't push. Nightwing was already biting out monosyllables and he didn't have much patience left.
Even if Dick had grown, his shoulders would never be as broad as Bruce's. Jason could see past him. Bruce had already moved past his initial scan and he had the Replacement in his arms. Tim was saying something, from the way that his lips were moving and Bruce was leaning closer, and Bruce was murmuring something too quiet for Jason to hear. Tim's eyes were open, again, and he was clinging to Bruce with all the strength he had left. Robin had held out long enough to see Batman swoop in for the rescue.
Jason offered the gun stock-first and Nightwing swept it out of his hands. Nightwing unloaded it neatly and tossed the magazine, chambered bullet, and the unloaded gun behind him as fast as Jason himself could have cleared the weapon.
“Second gun,” Nightwing said coolly.
Jason didn't ask. He slowly drew his holdout pistol and watched as it vanished into Nightwing's hands to be unloaded just as rapidly.
“Thank you,” Nightwing said. His tone was still cold but his razor-edged smile was gone. “I want you to draw all of your knives and drop them on the ground. After you've done that, you are going to take two large steps to the right, so don't scatter them too far that way.”
This wasn't how Nightwing usually dealt with weapons but Jason wasn't going to question it. Maybe there was a lack of walls for Nightwing to slam him against unless they moved far too close to Robin. Maybe most people in his position thought they could try their luck with the Bat bold enough to run around with less armor than anyone else. Jason slowly dropped his knives, one by one, and waited for Nightwing's nod to move to the side away from the small pile of weapons.
“Hands behind your head,” Nightwing said quietly. “Get your hands behind your head and get on your knees. If you can't do that for me, I will put you there myself.”
Batman was waiting, using the van for partial cover, and keeping Tim angled away from them. Bruce wouldn't risk Tim, not after getting him back, and he trusted Nightwing to handle this.
Once upon a time, Bruce would have trusted Jason to help him get a child to safety.
Jason slowly put his hands behind his head. Leaving himself open hurt. There was nothing friendly or receptive on Nightwing's face. Once upon a time, he'd thought that younger-Dick had been closed off and angry with Jason. He hadn't remembered that Dick would relax within minutes of Bruce storming out of the room. Dick hadn't even known there was a new kid home. He felt replaced with some street kid dumb enough to steal tires off the Batmobile and he'd still come around sometimes, even though he and Bruce were always one wrong word away from the kind of fight that left Jason hiding in his room.
Dick had still tried to like the kid that replaced him as Robin. Jason had almost killed the replacement Robin.
Jason dropped to his knees.
Nightwing looked down at him and it felt like the white lenses on his mask could see through everything. Jason could see Batman moving in his peripheral vision, could see the sharp edge of the black suit and cape against the bright road and the green on the side of the road, but he didn't move his head to follow Batman's path. He kept his hands up behind his head and focused on staying still.
Nightwing breathed out slowly. With Tim out of the line of fire, he loosened his stance. “Here's how it is going to work,” Nightwing said quietly. “I am going to cuff your hands in front of you. If you don't fight me, I will not hurt you.”
That's how good guys worked. “I'm done,” Jason rasped. “I'm sorry.”
Nightwing put one hand on each of Jason's wrists to guide his arms forward. His hands were gentle when he clipped the cuffs in place.
Jason cringed when Nightwing knelt in front of him.
The lenses of Nightwing's mask opened with a gentle click. Dick was looking at him with growing confusion.
“You aren't a shapeshifter, are you.”
“Why the fuck would I be a shapeshifter?” Jason asked miserably.
“We weren't sure what to think.” Dick looked him over thoughtfully. “But there's a reason that you were able to get into the Tower and know your way around.”
“Y-yeah.” He didn't have any right to stutter and nearly cry because Dick was looking at him with enough shock that the rage was almost entirely gone. It should just be rage. If Dick was angry and just kicked him a few times before dropping him off at Arkham, he could manage. He'd known it was a risk the second that he set himself up as a big enough threat to be a theme villain in his own right. If the Bats hated him, that was enough to make his reputation and he'd heard his dad talk about prison often enough. If he went in angry and with no connection but hatred, he'd probably never be in Joker's tier and nobody would have to wonder much. Joker hadn't even taken his mask off before he died.
If they dropped him off at Arkham with hugs and fussing, though, he was going to be every single Arkham inmate's favorite target.
“Okay.” Dick braced his hands against Jason's sides, just under his arms. “Let's stand up,” he said. “The cuffs are staying on while we sort this out.”
While they sorted this out? The cuffs were staying on until Arkham got out a straitjacket. He didn't particularly want to stay in the dirt, though, so he let his deceptively strong big brother help him up. It was awkward to stand up when he didn't have use of his arms but he could never complain after what he'd done to Tim. “Is Tim...”
Dick moved his hands away from Jason's sides slowly and stepped back. “I want to know how you know his name first. Everything else makes sense. You know the emergency phone line in the Cave, you know Bruce's name, you know your way around the Tower and how to hide our tracks. How do you know Tim's name?”
Jason shuddered. This was where it all went wrong, then. “Talia told me. She... she showed me the pictures. I dug myself out of my grave right around the same time there was some new kid in the Robin costume. All I saw was Batman acting like he hadn't just lost a Robin.”
Dick blinked twice. “Dug yourself out of your grave?”
“Yeah. I came back messed up, though. Brain-damaged. Still had the autopsy scar, still was messed up from what Joker did, but my bones weren't pudding. Talia put me into the Lazarus Pit when nothing else would heal my mind.” Jason flinched away from Dick's scrutiny. Standing here beneath a lightening sky with cuffs on, he could see the gaping holes in his logic. It hurt to see just what he had been doing. He was mad that Batman's partner had been kidnapped and tortured so he decided to torture and kidnap Batman's new partner.
“We're going to sort this out,” Dick said finally. “Just give me a minute.” He kept his eyes on Jason but he was listening to someone else. “Confirmed,” he replied. “Batman will be focusing on Robin and I will coordinate further arrangements for Red Hood.” There wasn't time to cringe at just what Dick would line up for someone that couldn't live up to his standards. He was still talking. “Batman, are we clear to come on the plane? He's cooperating.”
Jason cringed. Getting dropped off at Arkham wouldn't be terrible as long as Dick was kind enough to keep it professional. If he said one word about brothers or hugged him, Jason might cry, and he would not be dropped off at Arkham without a single mark of a beating with tears in his eyes. Maybe if he asked nicely they could stage a brawl in Gotham and he could let Dick get a few hits in. It would save him from a worse fight in prison if people knew that he could lose gracefully against a Bat.
“Batman needs a minute,” Dick said. “What would you like me to call you?”
“Hood,” Jason said immediately. He was not getting checked into prison as Jason Todd and he hoped that Dick got the message. Being an imprisoned drug lord with strange quirks was acceptable. Getting checked in as Bruce Wayne's wayward resurrected son was not happening.
“Okay,” Dick agreed. He paused like he was waiting for Jason to change his mind but Jason was not giving them any room to mess with the intake paperwork. Vigilantes used code-names and Arkham could have fun sorting out the rest. “You're going to be restrained during the flight, Hood, but you'll be right at the front of the plane with me. Think of it like being my co-pilot that can't touch anything if that helps.
Nothing about that sounded right. Jason studied his boots instead of his one-time brother. He wasn't sure he wanted to spend an entire flight back to Gotham crammed onto the plane with the three of them but getting transported by prison van all the way back to Gotham would probably be worse.
Dick walked onto the plane first. He had gestured firmly for Jason to stay where he was and having another minute without seeing Batman and Robin sounded like a great idea. He waited. He could try to run with the cuffs on but he wouldn't outrun Dick on a good day. There wasn't time to wait. Nightwing led Hood onto the plane before he was ready. Batman stared at him. Batman looked less angry than Jason had expected but maybe that was the company. Batman was holding Tim's hand and Tim was clinging even in his sleep.
For once, Nightwing didn't say anything. Batman was staring at him so Jason took the time to look over Robin. Robin's bruised face was relaxed in sleep. There was an IV line running into Robin's arm just past where Batman was holding his hand. There was an inflatable splint in place, parts of the clear plastic showing beyond the edges of the blanket. He recognized that blanket. Alfred always used that blanket when he was worried. It was the softest and warmest and the brown and yellow and red plaid should be objectively ugly but it had always looked like waking up in safety.
“Time to get moving, Hood,” Nightwing said softly. “Just like I told you, you are the co-pilot that isn't allowed to touch anything. Do you want a drink before I strap you in?”
Jason shook his head. He let Nightwing push him into the co-pilot's seat and kept his eyes on the floor while Nightwing worked through the restraints by rote memory. All Robins learned how to take care of this even if they weren't cleared to fly. One of Robin's duties was keeping people safe from Batman if he couldn't control himself. It didn't matter that he couldn't move anything below his neck by the time Nightwing was done. Being strapped down was still better than the straight jacket that was coming, he reminded himself. Arkham nearly always brought that out for the intake exam while they decided if you were mad enough to be a theme villain or downright vicious enough the entire staff would have to be on guard.
Nightwing stepped back. “Is that okay?” he asked. “Nothing's digging in or too tight?” His expression was too soft when Jason glanced up at him. “I told you,” Nightwing said gently, resting his hand on Jason's shoulder. His hand felt warm. “You surrendered. Don't fight me and I will not hurt you.”
Jason looked away but didn't shrug the hand away. Nightwing drew back on his own to fuss with the plane's controls and his comm. Maybe that was the trick. He'd have to fight on his way into Arkham. He could probably manage a decent brawl without leaving anything more than a bruise or two on Nightwing. It was risking a shock from escrima sticks as well as a few broken bones to suddenly tackle Nightwing but it would make Arkham easier to deal with. He didn't listen while Nightwing ran through a flurry of phone calls and text messages.
The flight felt like it went on forever. Dick was focused on flying them back to Gotham but periodically would look at Jason or back at Batman and Robin. Batman kept looking over at Jason and Jason made sure that he was looking down at the floor and not doing a thing that would make it seem like the threat to Robin was back. When he had the chance to look, Robin was sleeping and Bruce was holding his hand. Before he'd realized that he was going to die, he'd wanted to open his eyes and find himself tucked into the Cave's ugliest blanket with Batman making sure that everything was okay. This Robin had that, at least. He was jealous that Batman was taking care of the kid that he'd beat up. Arkham was probably a good idea.
Batman almost caught Jason looking at him after about an hour on the plane. Jason kept his eyes on his knees. He was focusing on his breathing when Tim started to move.
“Robin,” Bruce said in a soft voice that Jason could hardly recognize.
“Hi, B,” the new Robin replied a few moments later.
“You were sleeping for about an hour and a half. It's nearly ten in the morning Gotham-time and we're heading for the Cave first. ” Bruce still had no trace of Batman's gravel. “You should keep resting.”
“Can I sit up a bit?” Robin asked. “Feeling dizzy.”
“Soon,” Batman replied.
Golden boy managed a perfectly soft landing for the injured baby bird. Jason looked out the window at the new security setup for the Batplane. The airstrip and the hangar were the same but the security checks that flashed onto the dashboard were new. The transition from the closed hangar to the cave was smoother, too, without the sudden drop that he remembered. Jason stared out the window while he listened to the sound of restraint buckles coming loose and straps sliding free.
The plane was still traveling down the conveyor when Nightwing abandoned his pilot's seat to go have a look at the new Robin. Nightwing's voice was just as soft as Batman's. Maybe the new Robin was an obedient little thing that only needed to get yelled at when the villains got too close. Jason had to breathe. Someone else was living his dying daydream where Bruce had made it in time. Nightwing was talking with Wonder Woman and Superman because the new Robin going missing was a global crisis. The Joker was still in Arkham busily plotting his escape but taking out a couple corrupt guards didn't change anything. The new people desperate enough to work in Arkham seemed just as eager to take a bribe.
He stared forward. With the dim of the cave as a backdrop, he could see the hazy outlines of the scene behind him. Bruce hadn't moved a step away from the precious baby bird for the entire flight. It didn't matter that Bruce only thought about the new Robin. It meant that he'd gone after the right target. If he wanted to have a conversation with Bruce, maybe the man needed a little incentive. It couldn't be that hard to escape from Arkham. Guards liked money and money was easy to get when you picked it up by the suitcase after taking care of a trafficking operation that worked through the wrong port.
He only paid enough attention to see that Bruce was carrying his cargo straight out of the Cave. Nightwing was keeping his mouth shut, for once, and as expected it was because Golden Boy was following orders.
Drifting had been easy without the green. The pretense was wearing thin, though, because Nightwing had never bothered to spend an entire hour looking worried about Jason before. Even Golden Boy's orders from Batman probably wouldn't stand up to a bit of a push.
“I'm not sure why you ever let him put on the tights, Dick,” Jason said as casually as he could when the silence started to wear on him. He was in the Cave but wasn't allowed to get out of the restrained seat on the Batplane. They probably wouldn't even let him up before they dragged him off to Arkham without a single mark to show that he'd tangled with the Bats. “Tim's not much of a fighter.”
Dick's brotherly worries vanished into Nightwing's blank stare. Every muscle in his jaw had clenched and his shoulders were tense enough to bulge out his thin costume.
“I'm not in the mood, Hood,” Nightwing said evenly. The modulation was strange for Dick. Jason had to wonder how much of his earlier goodwill had been faked to avoid a fight he didn't want to bother with.
“What's the matter, Dickie? Truth hurts?” Jason goaded. All he needed was a prominent bruise or two. He was not getting checked into Arkham as a meek little pet of the Bats that surrendered because Nightwing flashed his baby blues. Nobody in Arkham should know that Nightwing's eyes matched the outfit. “I don't think Robin managed to leave a bruise on me the whole fight. I expected a bit more of a brawl but that's the best he could do.”
Every muscle in Dick's jawline was tensed. “I am not discussing Robin with you right now, Hood.”
The green surged back as if it had just been waiting for proof that Nightwing had gotten sneakier with age. Bruce never bothered to manipulate with emotions other than fear. He'd scare criminals into surrendering but otherwise he'd try to appeal to reason. Dick would play the concerned big brother for an entire hour if that's what it kept to keep the new baby bird safe. Dick had thought he was a shapeshifter before his sudden switch to feigned caring.
Dick was still calling him Hood.
“Not in the mood to talk to your brother?” Jason wheedled. He laughed when Nightwing flinched. “Just as well. You never were my brother.”
Even that didn't get the perfect golden child to take a swing. “I think we're done here,” Nightwing said, and that was the truth. Nightwing ignored him entirely and started tidying up the medical bay and setting several things aside on a tray. Not even saying that Batman would have been too late if Jason had decided to pull the trigger got a reaction. It was like he was talking to a wall dressed in black and blue spandex.
It was almost a relief when Batman came back. Bruce might be his only chance to end up in Arkham as anything but the weakest link.