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Jason doesn’t usually think about his life as better than anyone else’s, but as he’s holding Tim in his arms, he can’t help but be grateful for all the love he’s known. Bruce loved him. Bruce gave him the world and never asked for anything in return. Bruce always came for him (even if sometimes he was late). He’s never had to question his existence as a person.
Tim does end up going to the cave as Batman asked. He’s sitting in the passenger seat in Jason’s car and stares out the window. Neither of them speaks the entire drive.
It would be an understatement to say that Jason is nervous. He knows that the person that will wait in the end of the tunnel is not the same person as Jason’s father. He wonders if his dad died with him in that burning warehouse. Jason’s too scared of the answer to ever ask it out loud.
“You’re late,” is the first thing Batman says to Tim as the kid gets out of the car.
“I’m sorry, I got held up at school.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
Before Tim can respond, Jason makes his way around the car. “Hey B, can I talk to you for a second?”
Bruce has his cowl down, so Jason is able to see the eyebrow raise. “Is everything okay Jaybird?”
Jason smiles despite himself. He’d promised Tim to not make a scene, but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to let B’s behaviour slide.
“Yeah, just want to talk to you in private, if that’s okay.”
It’s quite disturbing to watch Bruce’s face changes as he flickers his gaze between him and Tim. The soft eyes to Jason, and hard gaze to Tim.
“Okay,” he finally says. “Robin,” Jason flinches at the reminder of Batman’s views, “go to the Bat-computer and go over the new notes.”
Tim nods sharply, showing no emotion as he leaves them alone.
Bruce smiles at Jason once they’re alone. “I missed you Jay,” he says.
Jason tries to fight the warm feeling that washes over him every time his father reminds him of his love for him. It’s not fair.
It’s not fair that he died. Not when the crowbar or the flames hit his skin, and not when his body was lowered to the ground and not when the Robin suit was left for takes. It’s not fair that someone had to take his place (because Jason is not an idiot and is able to see past the hurt). It’s not fair that that someone was treated like shit. It’s not fair that he himself was manipulated upon resurrecting and his emotions and logics were twisted. It’s not fair that he got to wake up whilst everyone else can’t. It’s not fair that when his dad tells him he misses him Jason transfers back to his teenage body. It’s not fair that the man that has only hurt the third Robin is the same person to first show love for the second. It’s not fair that Jason is barely able to hold onto his anger towards Bruce once Tim is out of sight.
So, he takes a deep breath and remembers Tim’s cries, the damp spots that he can still feel on his skin. The way his face contoured in disbelief and confusion when Jason told him that he is more than just Robin.
He remembers all the blank expressions and the distant eyes, the mouth that only spouted ‘yes Batman’.
And he punches Bruce. Straight in the face. Because that’s not the face of his father. And Jason can’t tell him everything he wants to scream while staring at the contradiction.
Bruce yelps in surprise as he takes the hit, it wasn’t as hard as Jason could’ve done, but it’s enough to get his nose to bleed, to cover the familiar.
“Jaylad?” he chokes out.
Jason hears a strangled shout of ‘Jason!’ coming from the computer but he doesn’t give it mind.
“How dare you?” Jason says impossibly controlled despite the anger boiling under his skin.
“Jaybird, is everything okay son? We–”
Jason interrupts him, “No, everything’s not okay!” he puts his hands on the sides of his face blocking part of his eyesight, fingers curling in his hair. And Bruce! Bruce has the audacity to put both his hands on Jason’s shoulders, in such a familiar way that Jason has to actively resist the urge to lean into them. To let his father fix all his problems. Jason takes a step back and affectively frees himself from the hold.
“Come on, Jaylad, talk to me, we can work it through,” he asks tentatively. Still oh so very caring despite the blood slowly running down his chin. It makes Jason want to throw up. Knowing that Tim’s never been shown this kind of kindness, and he just punched the man!
“Can you?”
Bruce smiles, “yes, of course.”
“What’s babybird’s name over there?”
Bruce furrows his eyebrows, looks around as if forgetting they aren’t the only ones in the cave. When his eyes land on Tim, he returns his gaze to Jason. “Robin’s name is Timothy.”
Tim, who’s obviously listening to this whole exchange flinches at the use of his full name. Jason punches Bruce again.
“Wrong!” he says. Not even trying to hide his anger, “his name’s Tim, B. Everyone knows it. Sorry, everyone who bothers to ask him for his name knows it.” He takes his breath as his tone turns hysterical, “hell, even I knew it way before I even met the kid.”
Bruce turns to look at where Tim is curled into himself. “You never told me your name is Tim.” He says accusingly.
“You never asked,” comes a quiet reply.
“Oh, hell no, you don’t get to turn it into his fault B! You never– not once, in all those months I’ve been in Gotham, did I hear you call him anything but Robin.”
“We can’t exactly call each other by our civilian names while in uniforms. You know that Jay.”
“That’s not– Obviously I know that! I’m not talking about that B! But you only ever refer to him as Robin! Even in civilian attire. Even when you’re in the cave. Only Today you greeted him–” he huffs, “as if you could call it greeting– as Robin, not Tim, not Timothy, not my strong and capable sidekick who I appreciate and love, just Robin.”
Bruce sighs, “you have to understand Jason, after you– after what’d happen, I was wrecked. And I do appreciate Ro–Tim, for everything’s he’s done for me and Gotham, but he’s–” Bruce looks over at Tim, whose eyes are so close to watering, hugging himself and looking straight at them. “Tim’s not my son.” Bruce reaches to cup Jason’s face, “you are, Jaylad. Death can’t– won’t change that. Tim has his parents. This is not his place.”
Jason swats the hand away, taking a step back again. “You’re fucking crazy, old man.”
Bruce’s face crumples, “I love you son, and it’s all just been too much. You know Robin–” Jason glares at him, “Tim” he corrects, “came to me only six months after your death, too soon for me for another kid. He’s got parents too” he repeats, “it’s not my place to treat him like a son, and not his place to want to be one.”
Jason runs a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell B, he’s just a kid.” He takes a shaky breath, “what about now, it’s been four years since I died, and you mean to tell me that in all those years you haven’t recovered enough to love another person again?”
“Well now you’re here Jaybird. I would never do something that will make you feel outside of the family.”
It’s not fair, and it’s not right, and it’s so so very wrong how much Jason longed to hear those words ever since he came back to life. A single tear escapes his eyes, and Bruce’s gentle fingers wipe it off.
Still shocked by Bruce’s words, he doesn’t reply right away.
The chair Tim’s sitting on creaks as it slams into the desk behind it. Tim shoots out of it and runs to the stairs. Jason’s about to follow when Bruce’s hand grabs his shoulder. “Just let him cool down.”
Jason looks at him incredulously and shakes his head, “you don’t even know him,” he says quietly and breaks free from the hold on him.
He runs after Tim, up the stairs and into the manor. It’s only at the front door when he manages to tackle Tim into a hug.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats into the kid’s hair.
He can feel Tim shaking, Jason doesn’t know if from sobs or because he’s trying to get away.
“I don’t need you exiled for me to be in the family.” He says, hoping Tim will hear him, “no matter what the old man says, you’ll always be in my family kiddo.”
“You didn’t contradict him.”
“I know Tim, I’m sorry. I was just overwhelmed with everything B was saying. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was agreeing with him. And just to set the record straight, I don’t.” Jason lifts his pinky from the hug he’s crushing Tim in and loosens his grip. “Pinky promise.”
Tim elbows him in the gut. “Oh, you fucker!” Jason exclaims, Tim just gives him an innocent look, finally free, he tugs at Jason’s finger, “pinky promise” Tim repeats.
Jason smiles at him.
Tim tenses, but before Jason can question his actions, Bruce’s voice calls from down the foyer, “Jason?”
Jason takes a deep breath, right, he still had to deal with that.
“Kid, you with me?”
Tim nods, but his gaze is still on the figure behind Jason. It’s the best Jason can hope for, so he continues, “good. I’m going to sort some things with Bruce and then we can go get ice cream or something. Sounds good?”
Tim locks eyes with him. “I’m not quitting being a vigilante. B isn’t abusing me or something. I want to keep being Robin. If whatever you want to ‘sort out’ gets me fired, I will make you wish you were still in your grave.”
Jesus.
Jason salutes him and Tim turns around and walks out the manor.
With a sigh Jason turns as well. “B.”
“Jaylad” he says with a smile.
“You’re a shit mentor” he spits.
Bruce looks like Jason had just punched him in the gut.
“Son–”
“B, Tim is just a kid! How can you just say that he deserves to be treated like garbage, nothing more than means to end, because you can’t handle your son’s death!”
“Jay–”
“No! You’re going to keep quite and let me finish.” Jason takes a deep breath, “look, I can’t say that when I was fresh out of the pit and was fed lies, I didn’t wish the kid was just Robin for you, that he wasn’t your son. But our difference, Bruce, is that I died and was manipulated by my resurrectors. I was so deep in my anger that I couldn’t see that there’s no such thing as a human replacement! And if you really think that treating a child like a person would mean replacing your son then I don’t even want to know what you think of me.”
“No that’s not what I mean.”
“Then please! Explain to me how the hell did this shitshow happen!”
Bruce closes his eyes. “After your death, Jaybird, it was hard for me to draw my lines; to know when to stop, to know when I’ve gone to far, to distinguish between justice and my personal vendetta. I was… spiraling, I needed someone to draw the lines for me. As much as it pained me to put all my burdens on the shoulders of a 13-year-old child–”
“He was eleven.”
Bruce opens his eyes, “what?”
“He’s fifteen now, it’s been about four years, he was around eleven.” When Bruce just stares at him, he adds, “fucking hell old man, World’s Greatest Detective my ass you seriously didn’t know your own Robin’s age?”
“He said he was thirteen.” He says a bit sheepishly
“And you what, just believed him? Tim the shittiest little shit I’ve met.”
Bruce’s eyes become even wider, “fuck you really don’t know him.”
“I–”
“Just continue the story.”
Bruce bows his head, “I needed him. I needed him as a Robin, but I also needed him to pull me back. At first, it was just too hard to see someone else wearing your colours–”
“Dick’s.”
“Huh?”
Jason just waves him to continue.
“Tim’s not the most similar to you, but when you’re out at night, you mostly only see the colours. And all I could see is my son that died alone because I failed him. My son that I love more than anything in the world.”
(A tear escapes Jason’s eyes, and he lets Bruce wipe it away again. When he looks up, Bruce’s eyes are damp too)
“It was already too much to have to do that every night–”
“You patrolled every night?!”
“Yes… Neither I nor Tim trusted me to handle patrol alone back then, and he was committed to a fault. I never had to ask him to show up, he just did.” Bruce sighs, “I should’ve– should’ve done a lot of things differently.”
Jason shakes his head, “you should’ve done everything differently.”
Bruce sighs again, Jason can’t tell if the sigh is an admission of his wrongdoing or exasperation. “So, after patrol, I couldn’t handle seeing him outside of the costume too–”
“Fucking hell,” Jason murmurs.
“–as time went on, and I got myself in check, Tim had already adjusted to the nature of our relationship. It worked for the both of us, you see, so I didn’t see a reason to change anything.”
Jason kicks him in the gut and turns to leave, “you won’t think that once you see him outside of the costume, trust me.”
Without waiting for a response, Jason walks out the door only to remember his car is in the cave. He groans; he was so close to a dramatic exit!
Instead of embarrassing himself more or having to hear B excuse his behaviour any longer, he heads towards the Drake Manor. Hopefully Tim will be there.
After about twenty minutes of walking, he finally reaches the door. He really hopes that the kid didn’t have to do this walk by himself every day and night to get to and from the cave.
He rings the bell and waits to let inside. About a minute later, Jason stands in the foyer of the Drake Manor.
The cold is the first thing he notices, the chill runs to his bones uncomfortably. The place is scarce of all decoration and barely occupies any furniture. Like a minimalist catalog dreams.
“Did you ‘sort things out’” Tim asks, using finger quotes.
“Eh,” Jason does a so-so motion with his hand, “I think we still have a few good conversations before we can see eye to eye again.”
“Kay”
“Disclosure, I left my car in the cave–” Tim groans, “–but we can order a cab…?”
Tim narrows his eyes, “you’re paying.”
“You’re a millionaire.”
Tim shrugs, “I’m a child in emotional need!” he exclaims, “are you seriously going to use my money to get to the hang out that you promise?”
“You’re annoying.”
“Nah I’m a millionaire,” he says and smiles.
“Little Shit,” Tim frowns, “to what ice cream shop shall we go to satisfy your millionaire standards?”
“Eh, I don’t know, don’t really go out for ice cream,” he says, “whatever you want honestly. You’re paying anyway.”
“Since when am I paying?”
“Since you invited me, duh.”
Tim walks around Jason and walks out the front door.
“Where are you going?” Jason calls behind him and harries to keep close.
“The garage.”
“You’ve had a garage this whole time?!”
“Honestly I think it’s on you for thinking that I don’t have at least one car just lying around here.”
“How many cars do you have just ‘lying around’”
Tim shrugs.
“Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t hang out with rich people.”
“You lived with Bruce for four years.”
“And look at where that’d gotten me!”
Tim snickers, “fair.”