Chapter Text
August 2019
Jason plays the security tape he found in a package over for the fifth time in a row as if watching it again will make it make any more sense. He looks for signs of it having been doctored each time but can’t find any. His heart is pounding with excitement. It's just too good to be true-- too suspicious . He has a million questions racing through his mind, but he can't come up with any of the answers.
The clip starts with a woman with short, straight, blonde hair appearing out of nowhere, dressed in an Arkham guard's garb. It’s the camera with the best view of the Joker's cell, which she doesn't even hesitate before opening.
The Joker looks surprised as he grins and says, “My oh my, it's my lucky day.”
The woman doesn't say a word to the Joker, simply raising a gun and shooting him in the head point blank just as he starts to pounce at her. He falls to the ground but the woman doesn't stop there. She pulls a fucking machete out of her shirt and chops his head clean off.
Jason notices a crinkle in her nose as she shoves the Joker’s head into a duffle bag. Then she looks straight at the camera with a small, confident smirk and says, “You're welcome, Jason.”
Jason has the weirdest fucking boner of his life right now (not that he's going to do anything about it).
He plays the clip again.
Jason is on his laptop at a desk in a safehouse bedroom when he senses another presence in the safehouse. His brain lights up with both alarm and anticipation. He grabs his gun, always close by, and cocks it, but as soon as he turns around he's disarmed with such skill that his brain short circuits.
It's her.
Her face is different, so she was probably wearing prosthetics earlier, but those are the same eyes and the same bleach-blond hair as the woman in the security footage. Her face looks so familiar but Jason can’t put his finger on where he’s seen it before.
He gives the intruder a once over and notices that not only are they lacking breasts now but they also look like they've lost about thirty or forty pounds of fat. Shit. Is this the same person or was it just wishful thinking?
“Who the fuck are you?” Jason blurts out.
The person sighs in what almost seems both exasperation and fondness. “Hey, Jay,” they say casually, like they've known each other for years. “I come bearing gifts. Well, gift ,” they say. ( He says?)
The stranger gestures over to a bloody duffle bag on the floor in the bedroom doorway.
“You're her,” Jason says as he looks over at the bag. Then he looks them in their blue eyes again. “Are you League?” he asks.
The stranger cringes slightly. “No, I'm not an assassin,” they say. “And I prefer ‘they’ and ‘them’ if that's alright with you.”
Jason nods slowly. “‘They/them’ it is,” he says. The stranger smiles softly. Who the fuck is this person?
“So you already know what's in the bag,” they say. “But I know you'll want to quadruple-check that it's really him and all that.”
Jason feels high with adrenaline. This could be a trap. Hell, this has ‘trap’ written all over it. He's never even met this person! Has he? They do look a little familiar, but he can't put his finger on how.
Jason is going to check if it's really the Joker, of course, but he has other questions first. “Why do this?” he asks. “What is it you're hoping to get in return? Hell, why not let me kill the fucking clown myself ? What's your angle?”
The person sighs softly. “It's a long story. You might want to sit back down,” they say.
Jason narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I'm fine, thanks.”
The stranger rolls their eyes. “Okay, yeah. That tracks. So, I'm from the future,” they explain like that's a completely normal thing to say. “I got sent into the past by an interdimensional being that feeds off of temporal energy, and no magic or technology can bring me back. They’re kind of like the weeping angels from Doctor Who, but they look completely different. They look sort of like hairless blue Klingons with four giant tentacles for legs.”
Jason barks out a laugh. “How the fuck can you say any of that with a straight face?” he asks incredulously. “You think if you spin a ridiculous enough story and say it with a straight face then I'll believe you?”
The person rolls their eyes and chuckles. “I mean, I don't expect you to believe me without proof. I'm getting to that.”
How is this person even real? And, if Jason is honest, so attractive?
“Uh-huh,” Jason says in disbelief.
“I know you in the future. You tried to kill me twice , but we ended up friends eventually. I know about your plans to try to convince Batman to kill the Joker; those plans failed in my timeline. And you're probably planning on attacking Tim Drake, too, right? The new Robin?” they ask. “Your favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, and you lost your virginity when you were 12 to a boy a year older than you. You told me you hadn't told anyone that last one until a year or so from now.”
Jason's eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
“Who are you?” Jason asks yet again. “And don't change the topic this time,” he demands.
The stranger takes a deep breath. “I'm the Tim Drake of five years from now,” they say.
Jason's mood plummets and his vision turns green. He's swinging a punch before he consciously makes a decision to, but Tim dodges it as if they’re expecting it. Jason throws more punches, all of which are dodged, and on the fifth punch, Tim takes advantage of his momentum and sends him crashing into the floor.
“I did you a favor, Jason,” Tim says urgently but not angrily. “Your hatred for me? It's an accumulation of your dunk in the Lazarus Pit and Talia fucking with your head. I didn't replace you. You're not replaceable to Bruce or Dick or anybody. Just like you didn't replace Dick. Bruce is still mourning you, and even five years from now he hasn't forgiven himself for your death. Dick and Bruce love you.”
“You're lying!” Jason yells.
“I'm telling the truth!” Tim insists. “Bruce didn't ask me to be Robin, I begged him to take me on because I knew he needed a Robin and I was the only one who could be Robin at the time. If you talk to the me of this time, the 16-year-old me, they'd gladly give you Robin back if you wanted it. They idolize you even now. And if you attack them, a couple of years down the line it'll be one of your greatest regrets, I promise you.”
Jason tackles Tim to the ground, but Tim looks up at him with a sturdy gaze, unafraid. “You really want to attack the person who just avenged you? The Pit is messing with your head, Jason! But you can fight it!”
Jason is hit with a sudden wave of affection for Tim that pierces through his anger. This person trusts him. He's tried to kill them and they're not showing any fear. They killed for him -- a Robin killed to avenge him.
Jason releases his hold of Tim and rises off the floor. Tim lets out a small breath of relief and stands up too.
“I didn’t kill the Joker only for you, but you’re one of the reasons,” Tim says. “So, I was wondering if, in return, you’d be willing to do me a favor by not attacking the 16-year-old me. I think it would benefit all of us.”
Jason takes a deep breath. “Let me just make sure you really killed the bastard, and then I’ll consider it,” he says.
Tim nods with a small, sad sigh. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it then,” they say.
“Wait,” Jason says without thinking. Part of him doesn’t want Tim to leave, but pretty soon he feels ridiculous for it. “ You open the bag,” he says to cover up his unwise interest in Tim.
Tim nods and walks over to the bag to open it. It smells awful . And there, inside, Jason can see a severed head -- Joker’s head .
Jason swallows and nods. “Okay. So how do I contact you?”
Tim blinks at him with curiosity. “You don’t have to,” they say.
Jason glares. “I want to ,” he says. “You said we’re friends in the future. Or was that a lie?”
Tim shakes their head vigorously. “It’s not a lie! I just, uh, wasn’t expecting you to want anything to do with me while your Pit Rage is still so fresh.” They pause. “Does that mean you want to be friends?” they ask cautiously.
Jason shrugs, not wanting to give anything away. “I wouldn’t say that . But I still want to be able to contact you. Just in case.”
Tim smiles genuinely and it gives Jason butterflies. Shit.
“Okay, I'll give you my number,” they say. “You got a pen and paper?”
Jason nods and gathers what they need from his desk. Tim scribbles a number down and hands the pen and paper back to Jason.
“I'll see you around,” Tim says with a small smile that makes Jason's heart somersault in his chest.
“Yeah,” Jason replies, and then Tim is gone.