Chapter Text
"Dick, something had better be on fucking fire."
"This is Tim."
Jason pulled the phone away from his ear sharply and double-checked the caller ID. "Why the fuck," he hissed, "are you calling me from Dick's phone, Replacement?"
"Not important. Have you heard of Dark Halls?" Tim ignored Jason's scoff and pressed on. "It's one of those true-crime podcasts -- it looks into the deaths and disappearances of rich people. Their whole last season was about the unsolved murder of Lex Luthor's great-aunt in the nineteen thirties--"
"Get to the point," Jason snapped.
"They called Dick, asking for an interview."
"What? Why?"
"Oh, I don't know." His tone had dipped into that impatient Red Robin sarcasm that still pissed Jason off, even though they were on significantly better terms than they had once been. "Probably because his little brother died under mysterious circumstances?"
Jason straightened. "What?"
"I checked their website. The current season is titled 'The Buried Wayne Boy.' They're two episodes in already."
"How is that my problem?"
"I'm texting you the site. You tell me."
Jason's phone dinged. He opened up the text -- from Dick's number -- and clicked on the link.
His own face stared back at him, thinner and younger and wide-eyed, faded slightly and framed by typewriter-style text. There was no shock of white in his bangs, no scar under his left cheekbone from when Bruce had smashed his Red Hood helmet, no trace of green around the rings of his eyes, but it was him.
"What the fuck is this?"
"Exactly what it looks like. They're investigating the disappearance and death of one Jason Todd-Wayne. And this isn't a couple of journalism students with time to kill -- this team is ruthless. They hounded the Luthors. And they got what they wanted. Which made them--"
"Famous," Jason finished. He pulled up the first episode of the season. "Three and a half million people listened to... 'From the Bottom of the Barrel...'?"
"Exactly," Tim replied. "They interviewed a cop here in Gotham, got ahold of some heavily redacted copies of some records. That's how these things work. They have to build up the story before they get into the investigation. First, the saga of the orphan from Crime Alley. And then the next episode--"
"'...To the Prince of the Hill,'" Jason read.
"--is getting adopted and living with Bruce. So the next one will be about the case."
"You'd think these people would have better shit to do with their lives," Jason muttered.
"Apparently not."
There was a pause.
"Well, thanks for the chat," Jason said drily. "Great catching up. See you--"
"You need to come back to the house."
Jason nearly dropped the phone. "Ex-fucking-scuse me?"
"This is all over the internet," Tim continued as if Jason hadn't said anything at all. "Three and a half million people know about it. Have seen the picture. I'm at work and I've still heard about it four times already."
It took Jason a moment to process what Tim wasn't saying, and another to process why he wasn't saying it. Even at W.E., people were snoops. "Where's Dickhead?"
"Not sure. He took my phone and dipped. Probably went to the house." Tim hesitated. "He seemed upset."
"Him, upset? It's not his dirty laundry they're airing out."
Tim sighed. "I don't think it's that simple. They've emailed him... five times since he left his phone here."
"What the fuck do they want?"
"Uh..." There was the brief sound of tapping. "An interview. A statement. Photos. Anything he'll give them."
"Fucking vultures," Jason said mildly.
"Yeah. You really should go home, you know."
The Manor wasn't home, but he wasn't going to say that over the line and risk someone overhearing on Tim's end. "I'll think about it."
"I don't think the big guy meant it as a suggestion."
"B knows?"
"They're emailing him about it too."
"So why didn't he call himself?"
"Would you have even heard him out?" Tim asked, as if they didn't already both know the answer.
"Please tell me it's not going to be just me and him in that big-ass manor."
"Alfred and Damian are there too, don't forget. And Dick wouldn't go back to Blud without his phone. And there'll probably be some of the others."
"And you?"
"I've got work to do. Besides, I moved out a while ago."
"So did I. Are you really planning on copying me that much, Replacement?"
"I'll let him know you're coming."
Tim hung up.
"Fuck," Jason said into the stillness of his safehouse.
He hadn't been home in... however long it'd been since he left for Qurac. He didn't want to break that streak now. Things with Bruce were certainly going better than they had been, but Jason was pretty sure that him living in the Manor until this stupid podcast thing blew over was a great way to fuck up the minimal amount of progress they'd made.
His other option, of course, was risking getting caught. No one knew how to hide in plain sight like Bruce Wayne.
It looked like Jason was going home.