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Three weeks benched, and Jason has come to the unfortunate conclusion that he actually was murdered by the Joker. This is hell. Or purgatory. Or whatever. The point was, Jason is dead, and this is his punishment for lying to Timmy.
Bruce won’t even let him help on comms. It is humbling. It is humiliating. He is treating Jason like he was made of glass—which is a far cry from the cold shoulder Dick is giving him.
Jason is pretty sure that is about Tim, and how apparently after they’d recused Jason, he’d been having nightmares. Jason is only partly sure that’s what it is, but it’s the only theory that holds any merit. The only thing that would upset Dick enough to snub a bedbound teenager in physical therapy is McFly. He says cold shoulder. Dick refuses to take him to the book store. Something about healing. Jason is losing it, stuck home and bed bound.
And McFly, brilliant, wonderful, stupid McFly, who is currently perched on the edge of the couch that Jason has been deposited on—who is telling Jason that he’s never actually seen Back to the Future. Any of them.
Unbelievable.
“How?” he says finally. “How did you live to be—what, sixteen?—and never see a single Back to the Future movie?” Jason is mostly bewildered his future, aborted timeline self never found the same level of bewilderment as he does now.
Tim has the decency to look embarrassed. The kid is drowning in one of Dick’s sweatshirts. He’s a tiny thing, small for his age. Jason wonders if he will be one of those kids that shoots up like a little weed one summer and comes back to school looking like he got replaced by an unconvincing double. He blushes, pressing his lips together as he peers at Jason through his eyelashes. He shrugs. “It just never came up.”
“Apparently dying took all my taste,” complains Jason. Tim blanches a little at that, apparently offended for a version of him that will never exist.
“No it wasn’t, well, you see the thing is, um,” Tim squeaks at the end of the sentence. Jason is not impressed.
“Go tell Bruce to get his ass down here—yes, McFly, you have to say it like that—and I’ll get the first movie ready,” says Jason.
Tim, bless him, stands. He pauses in the doorway, and hesitates before asking tentatively, “Is it scary?”
Tim asks that before every movie Jason has him watch. Jason had made the rookie mistake of putting on another classic, Scream, and Tim had nightmares for a week. Emotionally and mentally a kid, despite the extra memories. Jason says, “No, it even has a happy ending. I promise.”
Tim smiles brightly, revealing the missing front tooth. He’d lost it earlier that day. He’d put it in a tissue to show Dick when he came to pick him up later. “Okay!” he says.
He takes off in a run, the pitter patter of his feet carrying enough that Alfred feels the need to call out after him, “Master Tim! No running inside!”
“Sorry!” Tim’s voice carries down the hall, and his steps slow immensely. Jason rolls his eyes, and pulls out his phone.
He texts Dick a picture he’d taken earlier of Timmy drawing on his cast. He’d drawn the bat signal, or what amounted to it. Underneath he’d signed it as MCFLY in a shaky hand. He’d complained about his penmanship, but Jason likes things like that. Tim is just a little kid, and it’s nice to see it show up in things.
Dick responds in a series of emojis, mostly hearts and a crying face.
Jason rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond. After a few minutes, Bruce comes in with a babbling Tim.
“—and then, Dick was saying I have to put more of my weight on the other foot, so I’m not off balance!” Tim explains seriously. “So I told him I know, but I’m too short now! My equilibrium is all off.”
Bruce nods seriously, like it’s not silly hearing Timmy’s squeaky little voice discussing an advanced martial arts move. “He's right though. You are smaller than you used to be, you need to adjust some things. Once you get used to it, you won’t think about it anymore.”
Tim looks at Bruce with a serious expression, and tells him, “You are supposed to commiserate with me.”
Bruce barely hides his grin. “Right,” he says. “Sorry Tim.”
“Dick is a tyrant,” insists Tim, but he’s smiling brightly. Jason feels something like bitterness. He squishes it down and tells himself that it’s not jealousy.
Jason rolls his eyes as Bruce agrees. Jason didn’t know when it happened, but he was pretty sure Bruce’s favorite kid was Tim. Jason understood, Tim was pretty damn likable. It’s not resentment, the feeling that swells. Tim hasn’t done anything. Neither has Bruce.
Jason clears his throat. “B,” he says. “Tim’s never seen Back to the Future. We need to correct this… travesty immediately.”
Bruce nods solemnly. “I understand,” he says, playing along. To Tim, he says, “You go get the blankets, I’ll make the popcorn.”
Tim brightens, having been given a task. He liked being useful, they’d all quickly realized. He disappears for a minute, and comes back holding the comforter from Dick’s room and the raggedy quilt Jason had begun to think of as Tim’s baby blanket. Spitefully, Jason thinks it’s hideous.
It was a patchwork thing, something Bruce had tucked away for years before Tim pulled it out. He loves it, at least.
Jason says, “I think B meant from the hall closet.”
Tim says, “But these are better.”
Frankly, Jason has zero argument there that doesn’t make him look like a giant asshole to a baby. He says nothing as Tim dumps Dick’s comforter on the couch, and wraps himself up like a burrito in his quilt. When Bruce comes in with two bowls of popcorn, Jason lets the buttery aroma fill his nose and focuses on pulling up the movie. Jason didn’t think he used to be this way, but he feels listless as he sets the movie up.
They settle in, Tim’s eyes are glued to the screen. He lights up when he sees Marty McFly also skateboards.
“He skateboards too!” Tim whispers excitedly. Bruce smiles at him indulgently.
The first half of the movie carries on like that with Tim excitedly finding similarities between the protagonist and himself, until Marty McFly is well and truly in the past. Then Tim sniffles. Jason locks in immediately. Tim was… kind of a crybaby. Bruce had a lot of theories about it. Most of it was because a lot of the bad things that had happened to Tim had happened when he was older. He’d processed those things as an almost adult. Which was well and good, except now he was a kid.
He could be kind of emotional unexpectedly. Case in point, he was sniffling while Marty met Doc for the first time in the past.
“What’s wrong?” Jason whispers. He can feel Bruce watching them, ready to turn off the movie if needed. Jason does not feel disappointment.
“Does he ever see her again?” Tim asks quietly. Jason frowns for a moment, before he realizes Tim is talking about Marty’s girlfriend, Jennifer.
Jason says gently, “Yeah, he does.”
Tim is quiet after that, and it’s at the end of the movie when he’s back in the future that Tim says, “So does this mean Dick is my Doc Brown?”
Jason laughs. “Yes. Please call him that when he gets here.”
Tim nods seriously. “Cool,” he says. “I don’t mind being called McFly.”
“Marty is pretty cool,” says Jason easily. Tim has a pensive look on his face though, and Jason waits patiently for him to say whatever it is he's thinking.
Finally, Tim says, “Do you think Marty would get sad? Since his family is different now?”
“Do you get sad?” Bruce asks tentatively.
Tim shrugs, looking at his hands. “I think I'm supposed to.”
Jason exhales. “Well,” he says. “I can’t really imagine a version of me that hates you.”
Tim grins at him, and says cheekily, “You did though! At first. You tried to kill me!”
Jason whacks him with a pillow. “Shut up, I did not.”
“Did too!” jeers Tim, like he hasn’t just told Jason he’s all bust destined to become the very thing he promised he wouldn’t. “You showed up dressed like Robin and you tried to kill me because I was Robin!”
Jason is mute, unable to speak, but Tim looks downright pleased with himself, giggling like it’s all very funny. “It’s true—and—“
He’s interrupted by Alfred, thankfully. Jason isn’t ready for whatever bombshell Tim has deemed important to drop right now.
“Master Dick has arrived,” Alfred announces. Tim is off the couch and in the foyer in a second.
Jason exchanges a wary look with Bruce. “Did you,” he starts. He’s not sure he wants to know.
“No,” says Bruce. “Tim has been very closed off about the future he came from. He never mentioned this.”
“Okay,” says Jason shakily. He’s had this fear, since the thing with his mom—before then, really—that he’s destined to become a criminal. He doesn’t like to think that there's even the possibility he’s capable of that kind of violence. But he knows he could. He’s not like Bruce or Dick. There's something sick about him.
He’s thought about it. He’s thought about the murderers and rapists that get away with it. The scum that hurt children and get nothing but a slap on the wrist. Jason’s thought about it.
“Jaylad,” says Bruce carefully.
“What if I do that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “I think about it—when they get away. It would be easy. I don’t, I don’t want to hurt Timmy but sometimes I’m so—what if there's something wrong with me and I do?”
“You won’t,” says Bruce firmly. Jason scoffs. “No, listen to me. You won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” says Jason. What if he does? What if it becomes a hunger?
“Even if you become someone you don’t like,” says Bruce finally. “It’s never too late to change it.”
“What about the Joker?” Jason yells. He’s crying. He’s so angry. Jason didn’t like being angry. “What if I end up like him? You’re sitting here telling me he can change?”
“No,” says Bruce. “He doesn’t want to change. You haven’t even done anything, Jason.”
He wipes at his face angrily. “You heard what Tim said.”
“That was a version of you that doesn’t exist,” says Bruce. He’s frustrated, Jason can tell. He wishes he was… not this. He clamps down on his feelings, shoving them down.
“Okay,” says Jason. “Whatever.”
“Jay—“
“I said whatever,” he snaps. Just drop it, he thinks. It must show on his face, because Bruce does.
“Do you want to come say goodbye to Dick and Tim?” Bruce asks after a moment.
“No,” says Jason flatly. Bruce pats his knee, and stands. He can hear them all talking, and against his better judgement he hobbled to the window and stares out as Tim sprints to the car. He does a cartwheel, much to the chagrin of Dick who catches him while upside down. Tim shrieks with laughter, and Dick deposits his kid in the back of the car. Tim pops up again, pressing his face against the glass. He spots Jason, his expression brightening as he waves excitedly.
Jason waves back, forcing himself to grin. If Tim could forgive him, Jason must not have been that bad.
He hopes.