Archive of Our Own

It was stupid, really. It started off incredibly stupid. 

Jeffrey Ameston was being the actual worst again. He'd teased Jason about being a charity case for the fifty-seventh time, and Jason - Well, everyone knew that Ameston lost them the mathlete trophy that year. It was dumb that that qualified as gossip, but it was sure useful. So Jason had spouted off about how Ameston wished he could pull a charity case move and actually win a math tournament like Dick Grayson had. Ameston had gone red in the face and snatched his old copy of "Pride and Prejudice" right out of Jason's hand.

So he punched him in the face.

"You know better than that." Bruce said a little too gently for the raw anger that exploded inside of Jason's chest. "You can't react with violence when someone upsets you."

"He stole my book!" Jason cried out.

"Then you should have reported it to a teacher." Bruce replied.

"I'm no snitch. I can handle a mathlete myself." Jason crossed his arms, watching Bruce's eye twitch a little. It always did that when he wanted to say something but was holding it back. Jason understood. He was barely repressing the quiet voice in his head that wanted to cry They all hate me. The teachers won't help me. They'll blame me, and you'd believe them.

"No Robin for a week." Bruce stated.

"What? But -"

"Jason, it's your responsibility as a hero to stand up for what's right and exemplify morals with your actions. Did you do that today?" Bruce waited for an answer, but when it became clear that Jason wasn't going to say anything, he sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Jason, you're a good kid. I never would have made you Robin otherwise, but you can't be two different people. You might be Robin, but you're always Jason. I want you to use this week to think about who you want Jason to be."

Jason scuffed his toe against the hardwood floor. "Okay."

"Now do you want ice cream?"

Jason's head snapped up. "But I thought I was grounded."

"You're grounded from Robin, not ice cream." Bruce replied. "Now let's hurry before Alfred catches us."

The ice cream part wasn't stupid. However, sneaking out as Robin might have been.

He'd followed Batman to a tall skyscraper, keeping enough of a distance that he was pretty sure the man didn't see him. Thankfully, he seemed distracted.

And it was clear why as soon as he spotted a dark figure with stark blue standing on his chest. 

"I got it." Nightwing said simply, voice colder than Jason was used to. "I've been working this case for two months."

"It's in Gotham." Batman replied, and though he sounded cold, too, there was something softer in his voice that Jason always heard when he talked to Nightwing. 

"What, your city, your rules?"

There was a silence. Then Nightwing huffed. "Fine. Just don't get in my way."

Jason wasn't prepared for sudden silence and then a bang. He jumped, giving away his hiding spot -

To no one. Neither of the vigilantes were on the roof anymore. 

So Jason's stupid self jumped up and started looking around, trying to figure out where they'd gone. He'd just found the roof access door and slipped inside when there was a loud whirring noise. It was as if a giant fan were getting ready to fly off the hinges, and Jason followed the noise. He'd just made it down the hall when the wall broke, a figure bursting through wooden beams and plaster.

Nightwing. 

Jason was running towards him when it happened.

A bright blue beam came through the hole in the wall and directly hit Jason. Though it hit him in the chest, his fingers felt tingly first, prickling pain suddenly and sharply stabbing at his raised goosebumps. He stumbled before his feet went numb, and he hit the ground, practically falling into Nightwing. Immediately, the shakiness seemed to relax until he just felt vaguely nauseous. 

Nightwing sat up, eyes snapping to Jason. "Robin? You shouldn't be here. This is too dangerous. Report to the cave."

Jason swallowed. Then he nodded. Nightwing was too busy to look at him or realize how odd it was that Jason was going back, but he didn't look the gift horse in the mouth. He practically flew back to the cave, the whole time alternating between cursing Bruce and himself.

"Welcome back, Master Jason." Alfred greeted as he tried to sneak to the changing room.

Jason spun around. "Uh, hi, Alfie."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow, and Jason broke just like that.

"I know I shouldn't have been out. I know, but I really wanted to go and make sure Bruce would be fine, but I learned my lesson! I swear I'll stay in the rest of the week. I promise. Please don't tell Bruce!" 

Alfred gave him a look and then said very simply "I suppose you'd better hurry before Master Bruce catches you."

Distinctly sure that Alfred knew Bruce had gotten him ice cream, Jason thanked him and changed. He was in bed, too grateful that he hadn't been caught to realize how stupid he'd been.

Because no fantastical ray gun had zero effects. 

(He should have told Alfred. He should have told Bruce, but it was too late.)

One moment, he was in bed, and the next, he was definitely not.

A brick ledge dug into his lower back, nothing beneath his legs, and suddenly, his weight was dragging him into midair. Fear slammed through his body, and he scrambled to find a handhold. One of his nails broke as his fingers scraped along the ledge, but he managed to find a grip. He stared up at the starry sky, trying desperately to not to think about the cars he could hear below. He didn't know how high the roof he was barely clinging to was, and he didn't want to know. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, breaths threatening to turn into heaving gasps. "Please, please, please, fuck -"

Then there were hands wrapping around his middle, sweeping him into the sky. Jason grunted, fingers tingling and a little bloody, but his gratefulness for not being a flattened piece of filth on the sidewalk overwhelmed any pain or discomfort. Soon enough, he was set down rather gently on a rooftop. His knees gave out, and he collapsed in a puddle. He just looked up to see his savior and - 

"Man, Little Wing. You've got some awful timing, huh?"

Jason's jaw nearly dropped. "You're old."

Nightwing blinked, confusion slipping onto his face for a second before he snorted. His costume was sleek and much darker than the one Jason was used to with all the bells and whistles. And though Jason had already seen Nightwing as muscular, this man was taller and more well-built. Jason would have thought it was someone else, but it was clearly Dick behind that mask.

"And here I thought I was aging gracefully."

(He was. His hair was still dark, his face still smooth, but he wasn't the teenager that Jason knew. Even the way he moved spoke of the extra years he had on Jason's version of him.)

"What happened to you?" Jason blurted out.

"What do you mean?" 

"You're - You're different!"

Nightwing frowned. "I'm completely the same. You're the one that's acting weird."

"Me?" Jason demanded, and he'd deny the high squeak in his voice until his dying day. "You're the one that was a teenager an hour ago!"

"Oh." Nightwing said. "It's your first time."

"My what?" Jason said.

"It's like 'The Time Traveler's Wife.' Except I'm not your wife. Not that I'd be a bad wife, but not for you. That'd be gross - Wait, is that movie even out, yet?" Nightwing rambled, and Jason stood up on wobbly legs. "Shoot. I guess it doesn't matter. Not relevant -"

"What is going on, blue bird?" 

Nightwing went quiet for a moment, and then he sighed. "Okay, Jason. I'll go slow. I should have figured that I'd have to explain it at some point. I should have prepared -"

"Wing, come on." Jason groaned.

"Okay. So we don't know what caused it," Nightwing began as a sinking feeling began in Jason's stomach that whispered Yes, you do, "but it's like this. You hop through time, and you gravitate to me. It'll happen for a lot of years -"

"Wait, wait. I'm time traveling?" 

"Yeah."

"Time travel?"

"That's it."

"Shit." 

"Language." Nightwing said, but he was laughing a little while saying it, so Jason ignored him.

"So what causes it?" Jason demanded.

"We don't know."

"No, no, I mean is there something that triggers it? Is it something I can control?" 

A sad look came over Nightwing's face, and he sighed. He sat down on the ledge, patting the spot beside him. Jason cautiously took a seat, shivering at a cool wind. "No. As far as we could tell, there isn't a trigger or anything you can control about it. It's completely random, and at the end, you're always returned to where you were. You might be displaced for a moment or two - miss a couple minutes, but it's just . . . Well, it's just something that happens to you."

Jason sighed, eyes dropping. "But you'll always be there?"

"Every time." Nightwing assured, but there was a shadow over his face that Jason didn't like. 

It haunted him long after he was returned to his nice, cozy bed and drifted into some discomforted form of unconsciousness.

Jason could almost forget about his new . . . condition.

Nothing really changed. Bruce and Alfred didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and every time Jason considered telling them, he convinced himself to put it off (not ready to admit that he didn't want to tell them at all - that he was almost excited to have a brother's secret). Life went on as usual. The only difference was that sometimes he'd spend a half hour on Dick's couch in the middle of a math test or Robin would be running through Bludhaven's streets fifteen years in the future instead of by Batman's side. 

Frankly, Jason started to enjoy it. The future versions of Dick were . . . They liked him. They stuck around. They told dumb jokes and stayed close to him and paid rapt attention to everything he said, and - 

And the Dick in his time period only relaxed like that when Bruce wasn't there, so Jason didn't know him like he would know him. Did know the future him. Already knew what he would be?

It was enough to give him a headache.

However, it was good.

Until it wasn't.

One moment, Robin was leaping across a roof, and the next moment, everything was dark, and - 

Slam!

Robin groaned, forehead slamming against a wall or a door or something hard enough to make his head spin. Then gloved hands were wrapping around his torso and his face. He immediately started squirming, fear and anxiety spinning into absolute horror when -

"Shh, Lil' Wing. You're gonna get us caught." 

Robin stilled, turning back to stare at the blurry shape barely visible in the darkness. It took far too long for his eyes to adjust, but soon enough he could see Nightwing and something nasty and dark seeping down his hair, smeared across his face. Even partially hidden by the darkness, Robin could see the exhaustion hiding in his eyes. He leaned in for a moment before jerking back sharply, the smell of iron sickeningly thick in his throat.

Blood. There was blood on Nightwing's face.

"What happened to you?"

Nightwing gently hushed him, running a hand over his hair. Robin wanted to squirm out of his hold and demand an answer, but then there were loud stomps echoing through their small space.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

"I swear I heard something."

"It's all in your head, man. Ain't nothin' down here."

"What if it's the Bat?"

"The Bat don't know we caught a birdie. Besides, Nightwing is still strapped up in the other room." The other man scoffed, and mounting horror grew inside of Robin. He turned to stare at Nightwing and all the blood - he'd been captured.

And escaped?

Escaped was a strong word considering that they were both cramped into some tiny closet with two able bodied psychos outside of the door. Robin leaned back further into Nightwing, holding his breath.

Nightwing let out a quiet, pained groan, and though he clamped his mouth shut, the damage was done.

"He's in here!"

The doorknob shook, and Robin barely grabbed it in time to stop it from turning. He flipped the lock, and then the door shook with a loud slam. Panicked, Robin leaned against the door as it took another hard hit, staring with wide eyes where Nightwing didn't seem to have it in himself to stand.

"N -" Another harsh slam rattled his teeth.

Nightwing looked up a little too slowly, smiling. "Robin."

"I -I -"

"It's okay." Nightwing said reassuringly. "Trust me, Little Wing. It's okay."

"It's not. I did this - What if they -"

"They won't kill me." Nightwing assured. "You've already seen me past this point, right?"

Robin wasn't sure. He didn't want to dwell on it. "N -"

And suddenly his feet were buzzing, hands already losing their feeling.

"See you later, kiddo." Nightwing said, head falling to one side. 

"Nightw -" 

There was a sound of wood splintering, but Robin was already gone.

It was Nightwing that found him, not Batman. 

His footsteps were purposefully loud, catching the concrete of the roof. Robin curled tighter onto the metal railing, hiding his face. 

"You're hurt."

Robin blinked, glancing down at his gloves and the blood that had congealed there. He shuddered. "It's not mine."

He didn't say It's yours.

There was a pause. 

"It finally happened, huh?" N asked. 

Robin's head snapped up. "What?"

"You're a time traveler."

Robin gritted his teeth, and he put his head back down. "Fat load of shit that did me -"

"Language." Nightwing called, but his voice wasn't as light and amused as his older self was. Robin liked him better older.

Robin had gotten him killed.

"I hate it." 

The words came unbidden to his mouth, loud and just a bit too hurt for Robin to pass off as anything less than guilty devastation. He clutched his cape in hand even as Nightwing slowly took a seat beside him. 

Nightwing shifted awkwardly, not quite as confident as he should be - would be, and Robin hated that he wanted to skip over this gangly, angry man and skip forward to the man he mentally considered a brother - skip forward to a dead body.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

There was another long pause. "Okay. Okay."

"Do you think I can change the future?" Robin asked. 

"I think anyone can change the future." Nightwing replied. "It's all in our choices."

Anxiety bloomed up worse in Robin's chest, and he swallowed thickly. 

(He's already made a choice - a bad one.)

(But how was that different from what he'd been doing before?)

Neither said anything for a long time. Then Robin finally asked "When is the first time you met me?"

Dick smiled. "No spoilers. That'd make things boring."

Robin looked at the city lights and car high beams down below. "I wish life were more boring."

"No, you don't. You'd hate it." Nightwing grinned. 

Robin looked down at his own gloves, imagining Nightwing's blood splattered on it, wooden splinters exploding inwards directly towards him.

(Then he thought about the fact that without him there in the closet, Nightwing had taken the brunt of the damage.)

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Nightwing patted his back through it, and Jason tried not to let himself feel the weight of his guilt in each touch.

It took a week of Bruce and Alfred sharing worried looks over Jason's head where they thought he couldn't see for his anxieties to finally begin to lift.

He pushed his chair back from the dining table with a satisfying scrape and scuffed his shoe against the fine hardwood floor as he left. He had barely passed the threshold of the door when Bruce called "Jason?"

Jason took another step before pausing. He huffed, saying "Just leave me alone, old -"

He was in the cave. 

"Jay?" 

Dick looked . . . He looked terrible. He was younger than Jason was used to, though not by much. His hair was greasy, and his shirt was off, giving Jason an eyeful of bandages and scars. His chest was wrapped, and Dick pulled himself off of the cot too steadily. Jason's stomach twisted with anxiety, certain that the former Robin was having a hellish time and doing his best to hide it.

"What happened to you?" Jason demanded. 

"I was just going for a new look, you know? I hear white's in this year." Dick grinned.

"You don't look very good." 

"Ouch. I have feelings, you know."

Jason smiled, but it fell too quickly. He shifted on his feet. "So what really happened?"

Dick gave him an overexaggerated pout. "You don't believe me?"

Irritation began to lick at Jason's spine, and he fought to suppress it. "Dickhead -"

There was a noise up above, and both Robin's eyes snapped to the cave entrance. Dick's hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pushing him. "Hide! Unless you want B asking questions."

Jason stumbled, eyes searching desperately for a quick spot, but almost everything was too far away or too visible. 

Except . . . 

Jason dashed towards the huge pit leading downwards, taking a leap over the edge and barely catching a ledge just below the cave floor. Completely out of sight, he scrambled to get purchase with his bare toes, wincing at the cool stone. He didn't find comfort, but he did eventually settle enough that the anxiety of falling was lost to his still hands and knees. 

He was starting to wonder if Bruce was even there when the silence was shattered.

“The Joker shot you.” Bruce’s words echoed off the walls, and Jason felt a bead of sweat slide down his face.

There was a pause. Then Dick said “He did.”

“That’s not the Joker’s MO.” Bruce almost snarled. 

“Well, it was this time.” Dick snapped. “The Joker is literally known to switch up his MO just for laughs. This isn’t that unusual.”

“This is attempted murder.” Bruce hissed, and there was something in his tone that made Jason’s hands shake where he clutched the cave wall. He closed his eyes and clung tighter.

“How is that any different from any other night, Bruce?”

“It’s too fast. The Joker lives for the chase, the game - He doesn’t end it unless he’s bored. He’s bored of you .”

A hint of real anger slipped into Dick’s voice as he said “You’re upset that I’m not entertaining enough for a psychopath ?”

“If he wants you dead -”

“Newsflash, B. Lots of villains want us dead. That’s the job.” Dick’s voice took on a cutting edge, but Bruce simply continued on as if he didn’t say anything.

“I won’t always be there to protect you, and if you can’t stop a simple gunshot -”

“Wait, so it’s my fault now?”

“Then I can’t have you on the streets. You’re a liability.” 

Silence. Jason didn’t dare breathe.

“You’re firing me?”

“I don’t need a sidekick.”

“I’m not - I’m your partner!”

“Not anymore.”

“But Bruce - What about the dynamic duo? What - Robin is - I’m Robin. I can’t just give it up -”

“There is no more Robin, not in my house.”

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in your house!”

“Then get out!” The roar was so loud, so ear-splitting that Jason’s numb fingers nearly released the wall in his shock. He had to scramble to hold on, heart pounding in his chest as Bruce just kept going in a voice that Jason had never heard. “Take your keys to Alfred, and don’t come back.”

There were heavy footfalls, and then long silence. 

Jason risked glancing over the cave wall at Dick and stared at the slump of his shoulders and the way he kept his face turned away from Jason’s hiding spot. After a moment, he said “You can come out now. It’s okay.”

Jason pulled himself up, fingers trembling and clammy as he rolled onto the ground. Dick didn’t move from where he was standing, so Jason pulled himself to his feet alone. He approached slowly. “Dick?”

Dick turned his face away more, not saying anything.

“Dick?”

There was a rough swallow, and then Dick scrubbed at his face, bandages poking out of his shirt for just a moment before he turned. There was an awful, fake smile on his face, but his eyes were red and irritated. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Embarrassing wasn’t how Jason would have described it. Instead of saying anything, though, Jason leaned up and pulled Dick into a hug. The other boy (and wow, Dick wasn’t that much older than him) spasmed for a moment before he clutched at Jason just as tightly. Jason shut his eyes, focusing on Dick's warmth when suddenly his arms were empty, and he was cold.

"Jason?"

Bruce. 

Jason turned around, watching as Bruce just barely made it through the doorway, and Jason's chest tightened at the sudden, harsh understanding that this man was the same man that fired perfect Dick Grayson for being shot. He thought of harsh words and Dick's downturned shoulders, and he couldn't wrap his head around how it was the same man that gave him a whole library of books and helped quiz him before school.

Jason swallowed.

"Jaylad," Bruce began, "I don't know what's going on, but I can tell that something is on your mind. If you want to talk to me, I'm always here." 

Jason tried not to think as he said "Can I stay over at Dick's?"

Bruce blinked. "If he agrees -"

"Okay."

"Jason . . ."

Both lapsed into silence, and it was Jason that pulled away.

Jason dropped his stuff on Dick's couch, and Dick blinked at him, staring at the bag. "Huh. You're from this time."

"Real clever, Dickhead. I can tell you're a detective."

"Look, if you show up without warning, I can only do so much. But when you time travel, you only seem to bring what's strapped to you." Dick replied simply. "Kori's out, so it's just you and me tonight."

"Good, 'cause I gotta ask you somethin'." 

Dick frowned, and he took a seat, leaning over on his knees. "What's going on, Little Wing?" 

Jason sucked in a breath before saying "How come Bruce is different?"

A pinched look came over Dick's face even as he looked confused. "Look, you're gonna have to explain what you mean -"

"He kicked you out for no good reason." Jason blurted out. "But that isn't how he acts!"

Dick tensed up before the wind seemed to go right out of him. "I'm sorry you saw that." 

"How could he do that?"

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in that annoying way of his, and then he said "Look. B doesn't do well with fear."

"He's Batman. That's his whole thing!" Jason snapped.

Dick chuckled, but it wasn't a bright, happy sound. "I thought once that I knew him best, but honestly, I don't know what's going on with him anymore. You're Robin now. It's up to you to figure it out."

Jason dropped his eyes to the floor for just a moment. His tone was hard as he said "Will he kick me out, too?"

Dick swallowed. "No, Jason. He won't."

Jason didn't ask how Dick knew that.

The day Jason was adopted was full of mirth. Bruce and Alfred made his favorite breakfast, and he got to skip school (which was good, because it was a dumb pep rally that day), and then he slipped through time, and Nightwing swooped him up in a rare hug, saying "That's amazing!"

It was so good that he never considered why the Dick in his time didn't call him. 

Jason climbed through Dick's apartment's window, and he frowned at the change in decor. The lamps were gone, leaving the room bathed in twilight, and the coffee table that Dick had told him to take his feet off of (before promptly putting his own nasty feet on it) was missing a leg. Now, it balanced on a stack of books instead. 

Jason frowned, turning, and then he tripped on a literal hole in the floor. He hit the ground with a harsh thump.

A light turned on down the hall, and suddenly a woman burning bright was there, energy glowing in her eyes and hands as she glared down at him, and - 

"Oh. You're Jason!"

And she was swooping him into a hug and spinning him around. Before Jason could throw up, he was dropped on the couch (which had some suspicious stitching now where there hadn't been before. 

"Kori? Who's -"

There was a pause. Then Dick was limping down the hall, each step a little too loud. There were hand-shaped bruises on his arms, hands as big as Bruce's, and he had a nasty shiner that made Jason wince. 

"What happened to you?"

"A break in. No big deal." Dick said. 

"Bullshit."

"Language." Dick breathed out as Kori giggled.

Jason scowled. "No way that a normal burglar did that." 

Dick rolled his eyes. "We all have bad days. Anyways, sorry I missed your big day yesterday."

Jason rubbed the back of his head, hair sticking up. "It's not a big deal."

"What is not a big deal?" Kori asked, and Jason's face went beat red.

"Jason got adopted yesterday." Dick explained. "He's part of the family now, and he's not going anywhere."

"Oooh, that's wonderful! We have to celebrate." Kori cried, practically flying into the air. She pulled Jason into another hug before exclaiming "Cake! That is how we celebrate. Come!"

It took until Jason fell asleep that night, flour still itching inside of one ear, to realize that Dick had managed to distract him from whoever had left him with so many bruises and that desolate look that slid into his deep blues whenever he thought no one was looking.

Time kept moving, forwards and back. A fourteen-year-old Dick completely devastated Jason at rock paper scissors a day before Nightwing had to physically drag Robin away from a psycho in a red helmet. He didn't really notice when something finally settled in him, but he realized something was different when he made an exhausted Officer Grayson help him memorize his poem for his English class's Slam Poetry event. He felt . . . he felt content.

He enjoyed his powers.

(Even if sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat, wondering why he couldn't tell if he'd seen Dick past that day in the closet, wondering if Dick's last words would be a lie -)

Then that contentment, that freedom and the anxieties beneath it, shattered like ice.

One second, Jason was chasing after a felon, his cape flying behind him while Batman drove through the city streets, waiting for his cue.

The next, the wind was replaced with stale air and the artificial lights of the cave. He slowed to a stop and skidded for a second as he took in this new cave. 

It was nothing like the one he was used to. It was crowded with so many things , gadgets and gizmos and motorcycles and cases and - 

And Batman. 

However, this wasn’t his Batman.

The cowl was pulled down, and Dick's blank gaze bored into him. “Jason.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “You’re Batman? That’s so cool !”

A weak smile, pained and somehow amused at the same time, slid across his face. 

“From Robin to leader of the Justice League.” Jason said almost zipping to him, but then he frowned. “So then what’s Bruce doing?”

Dick’s smile fell. A sinking feeling was suddenly in Jason’s chest. 

“Bruce is gone.” 

He didn’t say dead, but Jason heard it regardless. “Oh.”

Dick kept staring at him, something warring in his eyes before he said “That’s how it goes in this business. If you play the game, you die. So maybe you should try to get out.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “What? Quit being Robin ? But - But -”

( But you didn’t want to quit Robin. Jason thought, but he didn’t dare say it out loud in case the same heartbroken look from that night returned.)

“Jason.” Dick said, and his voice was so sad that Jason stopped spluttering. “When I became Robin, it was for one thing - revenge.”

Jason flinched, eyes wide. “But I thought . . .”

“Everyone thought it was some kind of selfless heroism, but that’s just not true.” Dick said slowly. He sunk into the chair and gestured for Jason to come closer. Jason hated himself for doing it. “The truth is that Batman couldn’t stop me from being on the street. I broke out of the juvenile detention center, and I broke out of the manor. Nothing could stop me from killing the man that killed my parents.”

“But Zucco is alive.” Jason said, eyebrows furrowing. 

“He is, because Batman managed to show me a different way.” Dick said. “Not because I wanted justice. I wanted him dead. Sometimes, I still do.” 

Jason wobbled on his feet, the red on his tunic suddenly feeling heavy. “I don’t get it.”

“I know.” Dick said, biting his lip. “When I became Robin, other kids started to think they could fight crime, too. They could be heroes, too. But I wasn’t a hero, and I never meant to inspire that kind of - of movement. But my actions have consequences, and those consequences are graves - the graves of children I inspired.”

Jason stared at Dick, and then his face hardened. “Fuck that.”

Dick blinked at him. “Jason -”

“No!” Jason exclaimed, stumbling backwards and clutching his cape. “You don’t get to make it into a bad thing! You don’t get to. Robin is magic. Robin is your magic . You don’t get to ruin that ‘cause you’re scared!”

“Jason -”

“I’ll prove it!” Jason interrupted. “I’ll show you that you made something good! Robin is good, and I’ll never quit! Never! ”

“Jason!” Dick launched himself out of his chair, hand reaching out, but Jason was already disappearing into atoms. For a second, he thought he saw a Robin costume that was awful red, awfully damaged, but he only got a glimpse.

It left his mind as soon as he was back on a rooftop. It wasn’t important enough to remember.

“Robin, report!”

Jason hit his communicator, saying “I lost him.”

There was a silence. Then - 

“Reconvene at Gotham Central Bank.”

The next two days, Jason didn't time travel at all. It wasn't unusual to go that long without seeing past or future Dick, but this time, Jason felt the loneliness like a weight. He didn't try to reach out to the Dick from his time, either. He didn't want to tell him how much Batman Dick sucked. He didn't want to talk about it. 

(Because a secret part of him was scared that his Dick agreed.)

"Jason? It's your turn."

Jason blinked before nodding. He slid out of his desk and let his feet drag on the too fine tiling on the floor. Once he got to the front of the class, he took a breath.

"Hope is the thing with feathers -
By Emily Dickinson.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me."

Then without looking at anyone or anything, he slipped back to his seat. He didn't wait for the polite snapping or clapping everyone else got. Unexpected hurt bloomed in his chest, and he gritted his teeth as he stared down at his desk so no one could see his eyes looking just a little too shiny. He wanted to brush it off, crumple it up and drop the feeling into the trash where no one could find it, much less unravel it, but -

But he was too angry .

Because Dick had asked for more than a crumb from him. The first Robin - the one that should understand more than anyone - wanted him to quit.

Dick should understand, but he didn’t. Jason wasn’t . . .

Jason wasn't like him.

Jason wasn’t good. He wasn’t some clever, high-flying circus kid who could do magic in the air. He wasn’t a selfless, good person - the kind of person who could deal with anything and somehow come out on top. He wasn’t magic.

Robin was magic.

Jason could never create magic. Even the time travel wasn't his own - it was something done to him. His teachers, the other kids - They were right. All he was was a street rat and a thief. He stole Robin.

And he couldn’t give it up.

(And a part of him . . . There was a part of him that had started to think that he could be more than that. He could be a hero, he could be smart and kind and good, he could be a brother -)

(But then he thought of the shuttered bitterness in Dick’s eyes when Robin had been stripped from him, and he -)

His chest burned. 

Dick knew what Robin meant to him. Dick was the only person who truly knew what it meant to him. And Jason was a good Robin. It might not have been rightfully his, but he thought he'd made a difference - He thought he'd proven his place. It wasn’t fair to compare him to inexperienced kids when he had Batman - when he had Dick.

But Dick would have taken Robin from him the same way Bruce did to him.

All because he was scared.

(Just like Bruce.)

Well, fuck Dick. Fuck him. Jason wasn’t going to ask Dick for anything ever again. He didn’t need him anyways. 

It was only a couple weeks later that Jason understood

There was blood in his spit. He coughed, hot tears prickling at his eyes as his broken ribs shifted and threatened to make him pass out. He used his one useable arm to drag himself towards the door. It was a long and grueling plight, and he nearly passed out more than once. However, it took until reaching the door to realize that it was locked. 

Frustration clawed at his chest, and he collapsed against the door, leaning against it for strength.

Then he saw it.

A bomb. 

4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .

Whatever hope Jason had buried deep down in his chest was gone, feathers brushing past broken bones and bloodied skin as it flew away.

And then he was falling down flat onto harsh tile, letting out a pained whine.

"Little Wing?"

Jason frowned, taking in a mucky bathroom and - 

And his glassy-eyed brother bent over the toilet bowl. He was stripped to his boxers, eyes red and deep gouges of purple beneath his eyes. He shuffled over clumsily, gathering Jason too gently into his lap, eyes actually tearing up when Jason groaned in pain. Dick began to rock him gently, and somehow, it felt . . . it felt nice. 

Until Jason realized what he was saying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have been there -"

Jason swallowed. "Not your fault, wing. I was . . . stupid."

Dick clutched him just a little too hard, alcohol and vomit on his breath when he said "No. No, you're not stupid -"

There was a bang on the door, and Dick froze up.

Dick never froze up.

"Dick?" called a voice, feminine with an alto tone. 

Jason leaned his clammy forehead against Dick's bare stomach, wincing at the clammy sweat there. "Dick . . . Wing, who . . ."

"Are you ready, yet? The clerk isn't open all day."

Dick blinked, eyes desolate and caught on the frankly disgusting way that Jason's ankle was twisted. His voice came out strangled. "Out in a minute."

Jason could hear heels clicking away from the door, and it took him until that moment to realize that the bathroom and its stained white towels weren't familiar for a reason. It was a hotel room. He swallowed past the pain, past the fear, and the knowledge of the bomb that was waiting for him and that all the times he'd flashed through time were over.

This was it. 

Bruce had told him once that while he was Robin, he was always Jason, and he should think about who he wanted Jason to be.

Jason wanted to be the kind of person who could save his brother from an abusive relationship.

(Because he recognized the look in Dick's eyes, the tension in his body, the throwing up - He'd seen it before. He'd seen in his mother - his real mother, not the woman that sold him out to the Joker. He'd seen it in the alley in those girls that were too young to whisper that they had a good man and should be grateful for it. He'd seen it too many times.)

(This would be the last time.)

"Why are you going to the clerk?" Jason asked, barely suppressing a cough that he knew would leave blood smeared over his lips. 

Dick's lips trembled. "Little Wing -"

"Dick - Di - Dick." 

Dick brushed a hand through his hair, fingers too steady as he whispered "That's where you get a marriage license."

Jason flinched, pain wracking through his body. When he could speak without screaming (or scaring Dick worse), he snapped "You can't."

"Jason -"

"No. I don't like her. You can't marry her." 

Dick stared at him. "Jason . . ."

"No. I said no, N." 

Dick didn't say anything more, burying his face in Jason's hair. His hands were still so gentle, but Jason flinched when a small sob shifted his body. 

"Promise me." Jason managed to gasp.

For a long moment, Dick said nothing.

"Dick." Jason said.

But then his fingers were tingling, and he couldn't feel Dick's hands.

In a last-ditch effort, he snapped "I won't forgive you if you marry her!"

Right or wrong, those were the words ripped from his lips before he was burning, burning, burning - 

Darkness.

Blurry. Everything was blurry. There was dirt beneath his fingernails, pushed down deep enough to be uncomfortable. There was a sound - cars. He was on the ground. Concrete. He'd spent so long laying down in that grave - right. He'd dug himself out of his grave. A man was leaning over him. 

He'd been hit by a car. 

Huh. 

He blinked, and he wasn't sure why that was a shock. Everything was dizzy - Jason was dizzy.

Gentle hands were on his side, and Jason startled.

He'd forgotten there was a man there. "It's okay, Little Wing. Just breathe for me. We'll get you back to Bruce, don't fear."

He was in a hospital bed when the words registered. "Bruce . . ."

Then he forgot. 

He didn't remember after the pit. He didn't remember a lot of things.

He didn't remember the nights he'd spent at Dick and Kory's apartment curled up on the couch. He didn't remember Bruce's exhausted dad energy when he'd miss the bus and Bruce would personally drive him to school, quizzing him all the way on his upcoming tests. He didn't remember Clark hoisting him up on one shoulder, showing him Gotham from far above the clouds.

He didn't remember the time travel. 

That became a problem when he was practicing with his firearm. The gun felt . . . wrong in his hand, yet it also held some of his only freedom. When he lined up his shot, clarity would sharpen his senses and dull the overwhelming green that seemed to overlay everything he saw or thought.

(It gave him a moment's peace from the photo of Bruce's hand laying on a boy's shoulder -)

(Batman and Robin. Sickening.)

(Child soldiers ripe for war.)

He took a slow breath in, ready to shoot on the exhale.

But then he was no longer on the shooting range. The intense, dry heat was replaced by a chill that slid past his skin and made his goosebumps remember fuzzy blankets and warm milk that his mind couldn't recall. 

However, all of that was ruined in an instant, in a glance. He knew the Joker's hideout when he saw it.

"Jason!" a voice called.

Jason spun around. The boy - the teenager was grinning, looking pleased to see him, but - 

But he was wearing red, green, and gold. 

Robin.

It was unconscious. One moment, the teenager was beaming, steps bouncing towards him. The next, he was on the ground, blood staining the floor. Jason blinked, cold anger only growing. He took a step towards the teen. 

"Jay? J - Jason -"

Dust sprayed his face, forcing himself to turn or let it get in his eyes.

The weight of the sun was back, and there was a bullet missing from his gun.

Later, Talia gave him a considering look, and Jason almost told her.

Almost. 

(But a little voice in his mind whispered a brother's secret.)

He was so focused on the pit and vengeance that he forgot to consider why he was moving through time (or whether he was insane). It didn't matter.

What mattered was that the next time he was suddenly in a different place, he was in a dirty apartment. Dishes were stacked high in the sink, there was trash all over the floor and overflowing from the garbage can. And there in the middle of an old quilt was a passed-out teenager. 

He looked just like he had the day he'd told Jason he had to go but that he'd see him as soon as he returned.

Jason had died first.

And Dick Grayson hadn't even gone to his funeral. 

Still, Jason sat down on the table and just watched him sleep.

There were good days. Days where he felt almost like himself, days where he found himself watching a small Dick Grayson practice his flips in the circus, days where Nightwing nodded at him from afar and didn't try to approach. 

There were bad days. Days where he didn't know anything beyond pain and replacement, days where he flung himself through the night with burning need to bruise, days where he struck at Dick as if he really wanted him dead, days where he wasted bullets for some precious time where he could have more thoughts than You should have killed him.

Then Talia pulled him into bed, and - 

And one thought went through his mind. 

I won't forgive you if you marry her!

He didn't know who she was. He didn't know who the thought was for. 

But he knew that those bruised, haunted eyes he saw in his dreams had to be a part of it. 

(He didn't sleep much.)

He genuinely thought it'd end better. He'd believed somewhere deep inside that Batman - that Bruce would do it. 

With a slice through the neck slowly draining him and a clown locked back up in Arkham, he didn't know how he expected anything else. 

This was how it was always supposed to go. 

"Little Wing?" Jason spun around, nearly losing his balance and falling off a roof that he hadn't been on nearly a second earlier. There only a few feet away was Nightwing. He wanted to snap at him, but he still had no voice to do it with. He settled for flipping him off instead, ignoring the obvious way the older man was rolling his eyes. 

He went to march away.

"Wait. You're hurt. Let me -"

Jason slapped a hand away from him.

There was a moment. Then Nightwing smiled. "You know, not ten minutes ago, I was talking to a twelve-year-old version of you. It was his first time."

Jason threw a disgusted look at him, and Nightwing rolled his eyes again.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. His first time time traveling."

Jason froze, blinking at Nightwing.

Whatever Nightwing read in his face surprised him enough that his eyebrows raised, dragging his entire mask upwards in shock. Then he shifted his hands forward, lifting them in a universal sign of peace. "You don't remember, huh? That's okay. I'll tell you about it if you let me treat that neck."

Jason wavered, pain lacing through the wound as he swallowed. Finally, he nodded. 

Nightwing smiled, pulling out some meager first aid supplies as he began to talk.

(And at some point, Jason forgot - forgot his own distrust - forgot what he had forgotten.)

"So it's like this. You're a time traveler. It's completely random. You jump ahead or behind, but there's always one common denominator - Me. You always jump to a point where I am. I'm always here for you." Nightwing gave him too earnest of a smile and kept on going. "You're usually only there for a few minutes, so it can be between three minutes and forty, but who knows? Maybe you can jump for longer. We're not sure. We never knew what caused it. We'll probably never know. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all. It always seems like the most complex things have the simplest explanations, huh? Kinda like family. Really complex, but at its core is love. That simple." 

Jason would have jerked back, but Nightwing's gloved fingers still played at his neck. 

"And I know what you're thinking. Shut up, dickface. You don't know anything. Blah, blah, blah. And I guess that's fair. But you know what I think? I think we don't say I love you enough, so . . . So I love you. And I hope you know I speak for every version of me when I say that I love you no matter what."

Nightwing pulled back, appraising his neck with a keen eye. He nodded and started to back away before blinking.

"Oh! And I found the perfect movie for us to watch. I know you love romcoms no matter how much you pretend not to. Trust me. You'll love it."

When Jason was back in his own dirty streets, he sat there and checked his perfectly bandaged neck. 

He thought about Nightwing's soft smile and his nimble fingers forcing Jason to stay still. 

I love you no matter what. Nightwing had said.

Green clouded his vision. 

"We'll see about that."

He was in the middle of a fight with Nightwing when suddenly, he found himself running straight into an old lamp. It crashed into the wall, spinning to its demise on the floor where the bulb completely shattered. The Red Hood stood, glaring around. 

"Come on, Little Wing! I'm gonna have to replace that." Dick said, walking out as he rolled his eyes. 

He saw green. He launched himself at the other man (teenager), managing to catch him off guard and punching him in the head. Dick crashed to the ground, training kicking in and launching him into a roll. He pulled out his gun and shot at Dick, a new hole in the couch. Stuffing went flying as Dick launched himself forwards, grabbing for the gun.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

There was a new hole in the floor, the vase of an antique lamp in pieces on the table, another hole in the couch - 

Dick finally managed to get the gun away, and Jason took advantage of Dick's youth to pull a knife and stab him in the leg. Dick cried out, and Jason pinned him to the ground, his bruising grip around Dick's biceps. 

"What's wrong with you? Jason -"

"Nothin' wrong with me!" the Red Hood snarled. 

"You're lying -"

"You just wish somethin' was wrong with me, because you don't want to face the truth." Hood pressed his leg against the stab wound, and Dick's face screwed up in pain. "You're a shit brother, a shit person, and you mean shit to me!"

Dick's lips parted silently, no words escaping. 

Jason disappeared into nothingness before he could find any satisfaction in it.

So that was how it went.

He stained Nightwing with blood. He went after the Drake kid again. He harassed and harangued and shot at them.

And nothing changed. 

Until he had gone down the street to buy a sandwich, and instead of walking into a cheap, alley spot, he wound up walking right into a tent. 

A circus tent. 

"Jason!" 

And then there was a small bowling ball slamming into his middle. 

"The hell -"

"Jason, there was a man. A man, Jason!" 

It was a boy, a little boy. A little boy with big blue eyes.

Dick Grayson. 

"Are you even listening to me? Jason, please!"

And it might be Dick Grayson, but Jason had always had a soft spot for kids. 

"Jason!"

"Okay, scrub. What's going on?" Jason sighed.

Dick clutched at him. "There was a man, and he was threatening Haley, and then I saw him up on the ropes -"

Dread pooled in Jason's stomach, because . . . 

He knew. He knew exactly what was happening. He knew what this was.

"Jason! Jason, he messed with the ropes, and I don't know what to do!" 

Jason swallowed.

(If he changed this, there would be no Robin, no Nightwing -)

(No Red Hood.)

(He couldn't.)

(But Dick was looking at him with panicked, desperate eyes, and Jason could never do that to a child.)

"Jason -"

"Okay, Dickie." Jason said, crouching down to look the child in the eye. "Here's what you're gonna do. Okay? You're gonna tell your parents. You're gonna tell them that you saw a strange man tampering with the lines."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." Jason patted his face, something in him melting at the way the eight-year-old (God, too young) relaxed into his palm as if he weren't a literal murderer. "Your parents love you. They'll listen to you."

"You think they will?" 

"Yes." If there was anything that Jason was sure of, it was this. The Graysons were perfect. That was obvious in each and every story that Dick had told, in the tearing up of his eyes even when he pretended to be unaffected. "All you have to do is tell them you saw someone sabotage the wires, okay? Everything will be okay."

Dick took a deep breath. "Okay."

There was a sound, and Jason started to hide, but Dick grabbed his hand tightly with both of his. "Are you - are you leaving?"

"I'll be here, Dickie. Promise."

And Jason slipped into the shadows just in time for two ghosts to appear.

"Dick! There you are. We were so worried -"

"Where were you?" John Grayson demanded. 

Dick blinked a couple times, sending a frightened glance over his father's shoulder to look at Jason. He sucked in a loud breath and said "I saw a man tampering with the wires."

"What?" 

"I saw -"

"No one tampered with anything, Dick." Mary said. "Dick, where is this coming from?"

“I know where it's coming from. Haley hired more people for the maintenance crew.” John said, reassuring him. “Don’t worry. They’re just making absolutely sure that nothing can go wrong.”

“Dad, you don’t understand -”

“Oh, I see what this is.” Mary said, and Jason tightened his fist. He stared down at the ground, unable to move or do anything. “It’s okay to be scared, Dick.”

“What?”

Mary smiled gently, kneeling and holding Dick’s face in her hands. “This is your first show without the net. You know, I was scared, too, but once I was up there, it was like nothing else. Flying is a joy, and we get the privilege to share it with everyone in that tent.”

Her kind words opened a pit in Jason’s stomach. Dick's wide, terrified eyes made everything so much worse. 

“Mom, please -”

“Dick.” his dad began. “If it’s too much for you, that’s okay. There’s no shame in waiting until you’re ready.”

“That’s not it!” Dick exclaimed, voice hinting towards panic, but Jason knew what he didn't before - he knew his parents thought he was throwing a tantrum, and everything in him whispered that he should help - but he didn’t. He stayed put as Dick wailed “I saw someone up there! I did! They were messing with the wires, and you’re gonna die if -”

“Richard Grayson, that’s enough.” John interrupted, voice sharp. Dick quieted down, surprised into silence. “Dick, I know you’re scared, but you can’t say things like that. When we prepare for a show, it’s with positive thoughts and careful preparation. This is a dangerous stunt, and we can’t have any distractions or someone could get hurt. Understand?” 

Dick hesitated, his blue eyes watery.

“Now, you have two options.” John continued, voice softer. “You can join us or you can watch the show yourself. Okay? What do you want to do?”

There was a long pause, and Dick lowered his head. “Go with you.”

“Okay.” John smiled and patted his son’s shoulder. “Good boy.”

“Don’t worry, my little Robin. We’ll be right there with you the whole time.” Mary promised. “You’re going to love it.”

Dick nodded, but he didn’t say anything.

As they walked away, Dick sent a single glance back before watching his feet walk away. Jason stayed rooted to the spot, mind whirling. He still could go after them. He could still save the Flying Graysons. 

He could save Dick.

(But then he thought about Roy with his sharp grin, of wearing Robin’s colors as he flew through the air, of Dick in the Batman costume whispering about the heroes he’d inspired with self-hatred in his words like it was a bad thing, of his replacement following Nightwing around like a little duck, of all the people that would be dead if it weren’t for Dick -)

Jason didn’t move. He was able to give it all up once. He couldn't do it again - He didn't have it in him. He stayed there, rooted to the ground smelling popcorn and peanuts until screams hit his ears.

Jason kept his distance for a long time. 

He stayed away from the family even when they started pestering him. And they changed from Oracle and Nightwing, Batman and Robin to - more.

(He might have had a moment when the demon brat was added to the family, but no one could blame him for that.)

(And if he needed to fight Dick's Batman to heal an old hurt, no one needed to know that except for him and Dick.)

All in all, he really did keep his distance.

From everyone except for Nightwing.

It was familiar in a weird way. One day, he'd be running the streets with Nightwing or secretly helping the Titans, and the next, he'd be eating bad takeout in Dick and Kori's apartment. Once, he found himself hiding in the kitchen while Dick and Barbara watched a movie, and he got a bad taste in his mouth about Dick's girlfriends, but he didn't know why.

Kori was the kind of person that was sunlight incarnate - all the good in the world.

And Barbara . . . Jason remembered her tutoring him when he was alive young. She was brilliant, and she always believed in him - a goddess among women.

And yet, Jason's anxiety ramped up at the very thought of Dick and - and anyone together. 

He ignored it well.

Then he was in a bathroom - an all too familiar bathroom.

Dick was laying on the tile, head pressed up against the porcelain bowl in a way that made Jason wince. He knelt down, pulling Dick away. His face was young, too young, and Jason winced as the now younger man squinted up at him. 

"Come on. That's no place to sleep." Jason said, hefting Dick towards the door.

Dick's eyes flew open, and his feet planted on the floor. "No."

"Dick, come on -"

"I don't want to see her." 

Jason frowned, a terrible feeling beginning to form. It was the same feeling he got before a sneak attack, before a fire - a foreboding feeling. "Dick, who are you talking about?"

Dick shook his head. "Cat. I don't - I can't -"

"Dick -"

Dick turned bloodshot eyes on him. "What am I supposed to do, Jason? She - She - I didn't want want it. I swear! I never meant for any of this to happen -"

"Dick." Jason interrupted, suddenly sure that he couldn't bear to hear another word. 

Then it clicked. Words drifted to him as if from a fog. 

"I won't forgive you if you marry her!

He pulled out his gun.

Dick flinched backwards like he'd been burned. "What -"

"Stay here."

"Jason -"

"I'm gonna kill her."

"Jason! No. Please."

And Jason burned. There was nothing more that he wanted than to burst through the door and break her neck, make this woman bleed - 

But he was suddenly, completely certain that he would disappear the moment he walked through the door. With every fiber of his being fighting him, Jason slid the gun back into its holster, and he grabbed Dick, pulling him into a hug. Dick shook in his arms, and Jason - 

Jason had no idea what to say. He wasn't good with speeches. He wasn't like Dick. He couldn't just say I love you - 

Could he?

Instead, he managed a quiet "It's not your fault."

Dick shook his head, shaking.

"It's not your fault." Jason repeated. 

"Jason -"

"It's okay, Dickie. You're gonna be okay."

Jason faded out, and when he looked up at a clear sky instead of a moldy bathroom ceiling, he shot his gun at it.

The next time the Bats needed help, he made lots of complaints and shot his gun a few unnecessary times just to see their faces, but he came to help.

(He tried to ignore the beaming look Nightwing sent him.)

It went like this.

There was a knock at the door.

Jason opened the door. 

The Replacement gave a weak grin, waving awkwardly. "Hi."

Jason shut the door. 

There was a bang on the door. 

Jason ignored the knock at the door.

The Replacement came in through the window. "Hi."

"Fuck off." Jason stated.

"Language." Tim said, and he sounded so much like Dick for a moment that Jason almost lost his voice. 

Luckily, he didn't.

"Double fuck off."

"Okay, look. It's Nightwing."

"Okay. And?"

Tim scowled at him. "I know you two are closer than you admit."

Jason scoffed, returning to grab his beer. 

"You're spotted interacting and fighting together all the time. You have been for years, regardless of whatever was going on with the family. Even when you were trying to kill me." Tim said, and Jason was impressed by the lack of bitterness in his voice. "So you have to help me."

"I don't have to do anything."

"Nightwing is missing." 

Jason spun around, eyes wide. "What?"

"Nightwing is -"

"I heard you." Jason snapped. "Next time, lead with that, you dumbass."

The Replacement began to stutter defensively when Jason froze up, a ghost of a memory prickling at his skull. He didn’t remember, not really, but he could see blood in his mind’s eye and heard the whisper of don’t know we caught a birdie . . .

“He’s been captured.”

“What?” Tim jerked back, eyes wide. “How do you know that? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Where -”

“Shut up. I gotta think -”

“Jason -”

“I said shut up!” Jason snarled. “He made it to a closet . . .”

He thought he remembered one of the men saying down something or other. Probably a basement, but in the very least, he felt confident that whatever building he was trapped in had at least two stories. The space they’d been in was tight but barren. It could have been anything from a closet to a pantry, but it was something to look for on a blueprint - 

But Nightwing had a head injury. They needed to get there.

“Jason, please.” Tim said, his eyes somewhere between terrified and determined. “I just want to help.”

“Good, ‘cause it’s gonna take a lot for us to find him.”

Eventually, Red Hood and Red Robin did find him. 

Together, the two invaded and systematically took apart an underground bunker (with three levels), but it was Hood that made it to the room first. He kicked down the door, screaming setting his nerves on fire -

But it wasn't Nightwing who was screaming. 

A thug was curled up on the ground, clutching his thigh with a bloody hand. Red Hood looked up at Nightwing, and the man had the nerve to give him a dopey, concussed grin. "Hey, there, Little Wing. I told you I'd see you later." 

The Red Hood lowered his gun, huffing. "This seems like a lot later." 

"It counts." Nightwing said.

Later, Hood would think it was stupid that he thought he could keep the secret forever. 

Eventually, someone had to know or notice. 

And Tim Drake noticed everything.

One moment, Jason was dozing off on the floor while Dick was laying down on his couch, head cushioned by Drake's lap, and the next, Jason was falling flat backwards onto the ground. The dirty, muddy ground.

"Damnit." Jason muttered.

"Language." whispered a heartbroken, quiet voice. Jason turned his head to the side, and - 

And Dick Grayson was eight and small and angry. They were in a graveyard, the same graveyard that Jason had clawed his way out of. Would claw his way out of. 

"You lied." Dick said.

Jason winced.

"You lied. You said that if I said something, they'd believe me. You said everything would be okay." 

Jason sat up, eyes dropping to the ground. "I know."

"Was everything a lie?"

"What?" Jason asked.

"You said they'd listen to me. You said they - they loved me." Dick sucked in an awful, hurt sound, and Jason stared at the engraving on the grave in front of him - The grave of John Grayson. "Was that a lie?"

Jason swallowed. He hated that he didn't have the words, didn't have a silver tongue or a smooth voice. Everything about him was rough, and he let his hand clutch the mud in a fist. "None of it was a lie."

"But -"

"No buts, kid." Jason replied. "Look, here's the thing. I didn't lie. Your parents would have listened to you. They did love you. You did the right thing."

"Then why are they dead? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, Dickie. You didn't do anythin' wrong." Jason assured, turning to look at the kid. Blindly, Jason let himself just pull the small child into his side, his weight practically nothing in his hands. "You had the greatest parents. Don't let anybody take that from you, especially not yourself. Good people make mistakes - People make mistakes. Good and bad, and Zucco made his last mistake hurting your parents."

"Yeah. He did."

The two lapsed into silence, and then Dick finally said "I was scared."

"Me, too, Dickie." Jason whispered.

Then he faded back into his room, climbing to a stand with a scowl. There was mud and dirt and stains in his clothes and his hair, and there was nothing he wanted more than to - 

Ignore the wide-eyed look Timbuctoo was staring him down with.

"Not now." Jason groaned. "I want a shower."

"You disappeared into thin air." Tim said.

"Replacement -"

"Then you were gone, gone for a whole thirty-two seconds -"

"Don't tell me you counted -"

"What was that -"

"Sit with Dickie. I'm taking a shower."

And Jason left.

Literally.

He pulled himself right out of the bathroom window with ease.

He was gonna burn that safehouse anyways. Really.

Robin, Dick Robin and not Damian Robin, was practically cartwheeling and flipping his way onto Jason's bad side. "I think that's dumb."

"Well, who asked you?"

"You did."

That was unfair. Jason had asked him, but he had thought the ten-year-old didn't have the emotional maturity yet to actually call him out. "Irrelevant."

"It's supposed to be a secret."

"Three can share a secret." Robin said optimistically.

"If one of them is dead." Jason muttered.

"Besides, I always knew it would have to happen."

Jason jolted. "What? Did I tell you -"

"You barely told me anything. You're terrible at explaining things."

"I resent that."

"I just mean that time travel has consequences. It's always on TV shows, you know? Time travel and the dangers of it." Robin replied. "The least of our worries should be sharing it." 

Jason frowned.

"You told him!" Jason exclaimed.

"Oh, relax, Little Wing." Dick rolled his eyes, walking with no shame up to the chili stand that was still there from when Jason was Robin. "You left him with me directly asking about it. I thought you just wanted me to explain instead of you."

"Why would I want that?"

"I don't know! Why wouldn't you?"

"Because it's our secret!" Jason finally burst out, and Dick turned wide eyes on him. 

Something sad slipped in those big blues before Jason could find a way to cover up his outburst. "I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't realize. I'll do my best to keep it on the downlow for the rest of the family and the League."

Jason didn't know how to respond to that.

That night, Jason was so dead asleep that he didn't notice when he time traveled.

He simply opened his eyes in a new place with a very small boy staring at him.

It was a trailer. And this boy . . . 

He asked Jason something, but it sounded like gibberish. It took Jason an embarrassingly long time to realize that it wasn't baby speak but another language in a child's stutter. 

"Uh, sorry. I don't speak . . ."

"Oh." The little boy - little Dick Grayson said. "English?"

"Yeah. English."

He screwed up his little face, tongue sticking out. "Who . . ."

Jason blinked. "I'm Jason."

"Jason?"

"I'm going to be your brother." Jason blurted as the little boy's eyes went wide.

"I don't . . . no brothers."

"Not yet." Jason said.

Dick stared at him, but there was some kind of excitement there that told Jason he understood . . . probably. "Big brother?"

Jason paused. "You'll be the big brother."

"Me?"

Jason smiled fondly. "Yeah."

"Wow." 

And then Jason had an arm full of a small, exuberant brother. There was something strange about seeing Dick Grayson so small, so different, but . . . 

It was nice.

Then there were voices outside the door. Dick jumped up and ran to the door, and Jason sat up, suddenly aware of just how bad it would look for a random man to be alone in a trailer with a small child. 

"Dickie."

Dick turned wide eyes back on him, and Jason raised a finger to his lips. Dick's mouth dropped in a very cute way before he nodded about seven times.

Jason was still smiling when he was back in his own bed.

Neither the Red Hood nor Jason Todd could escape Tim Drake. 

At a stake out, he'd drop out of the sky with a "How often do you time travel in a given week? An average is fine."

He popped out from behind a shelf at the grocery store with an "On a scale of one to ten, how stressed are you on average before you time travel?"

In the middle of a bust, standing over an unconscious henchman that Hood was going to handle, he said "Is there a commonality to where you go?"

When he stepped out of the shower, the kid handed him a towel with an "On average, how long are you missing from your own timeline?"

At the gas station, he'd barely left with his pack of smokes before the kid had weaseled the cigarettes away from him with a "What is the longest, shortest, and average amount of time you've spent in other timelines?"

"If you don't stop, I'm gonna fuckin' shoot you." Jason snarled at him.

A year ago, Tim would have flinched back, eyes wide. Now, he laughed.

The next time Jason found himself in Gotham, he was in a bar.

Dick Grayson was sitting on a bar stool, wasted out of his mind. His forehead was pressed directly against the gross counter, and Jason didn't have to look at the gnarled, warped floor or the cracked window to know that he was in a bad part of town. He just had to look at Dick.

He was probably sixteen - obviously underage.

But that didn't matter at a place like this.

Not if you had the cash.

The bartender sat another shot in front of Dick, and he reached for it sloppily. Jason slid it away, saying "That's enough, kiddo."

The bartender shrugged, walking away to another customer.

Dick turned his head, blinking very slowly. "Jay?"

"That's me."

The kid sniffed, turning his face towards the table again. "Just kill me. Put me out of my misery."

"Why would I do that?"

"Shot me once."

Jason blinked, because . . . Did he? He didn't remember.

(And that was a scarier thought, because if he hadn't already shot Dick, then someday, he'd become the kind of person who would shoot his brother . . .)

(But no. He had to believe that it was from his days in a green haze.)

(He couldn't change his past, but his choices . . . his choices mattered. His future mattered.)

"You shot me, and - and I told B it was the Joker, and he fired me, Jay. Said I was liability. Right in front of you, too, but he didn't know that. He didn't - hic - I dunno what I'm supposed to do."

Jason picked up the shot and downed it in one, bitter taste pushing him to say "Fuck Batman."

"Language." Dick said weakly, but there was a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No, really. Fuck him. That's a dumb reason, and he shouldn't have kicked you out of your home. That's - That's wrong, and it's okay to be angry." Jason said. "What's not okay is to get drunk in random dive bars, wasting your money when you got people who care about you."

Dick frowned at the table. "What if they - they wind up like B?"

"Only one way to find out." Jason replied. "Where's your phone?"

Dick drunkenly sat up, nearly spilling right off the stool, and Jason wound up fishing it out of one of his pockets. He let Dick lay his head back down on the counter, the teenager's eyes fluttering closed almost instantly. 

Jason didn't have to scroll far before he found what he was looking for.

Clark Kent.

"Here goes nothing." Jason muttered as he hit the contact.

One ring. Two rings. Then "Dick? Are you okay? You don't normally call this late."

Jason frowned, glancing at Dick. "Uh, sorry, sir. He told me to call you."

"Oh. Oh! No problem! You did the right thing. What's going on?"

"The kid is at a bar, pretty drunk. He needs a ride and probably someplace to stay."

"I see. Can you give me the address?"

Jason frowned, because he definitely couldn't, but Clark was Superman. He'd figure it out. "The kid said something about being kicked out of home and fired. He seems to think no one's gonna be here for him."

Just a bit of steel slid into Clark's voice as he said "That's not true."

"Well, he's still scared about it. Thought you oughta know."

"Thank you." Clark replied, and it was the last thing Jason heard before he was gone. 

Jason wound up getting coffee with a Dick Grayson with salt and pepper hair. The older man leaned on a cane.

"What'd you do?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Oh, you know. I grew up in a circus, and then I was a crime fighter. If you don't take care of your body, it starts to bite back." Dick said, smile lines next to his eyes. "Don't worry. I have good days, too. I don't even need the cane most of the time."

So later that day when all the bats were doing a takedown, the Red Hood found he couldn't keep his mouth shut when Nightwing did a quadruple flip from far above and landed just a bit too harshly on his knees. As the older man took out quite a few thugs, Hood called "You should be more careful on your knees."

Nightwing sent him a short glare. "My knees are fine."

"They won't be in twenty years."

Then the demon brat flipped in, neatly taking out a thug that was trying to sneak up on Hood. "You should listen to him, Nightwing. He would know."

"Wait." Hood said, spinning around. "You know?"

The kid made a tt sound. "Of course I know. I read all of Red Robin's files."

"You have a file on this?" Red Hood called across the warehouse.

"Duh." Red Robin called. "Which file are you talking about?"

"The time travel one." Robin called helpfully.

"Guys, we should really focus." Nightwing said, something in his voice that should have tipped the Red Hood off. 

"No. This is my life, my time travelling, my condition, and I want them to keep their noses out of it!"

Hood spun around -

And there was the bat.

"How long has this been going on?" Batman demanded, standing in the very cave that Hood had watched him fire his older brother in. 

"None of your business, old man."

"This is pertinent information." Batman said coldly. "It can affect your fieldwork -"

"Clearly it hasn't if you only just found out." Hood retorted. 

"He's right." Nightwing said, walking between them - like usual. No one else got involved, just watching, but Nightwing always got in the way - in Batman's way. "I've known the whole time. If I thought it posed any danger, I would have informed you."

"And if you were wrong?" Batman snapped, and Nightwing stiffened. Suddenly, Hood saw a drunk teenager, saw the humiliated slope of shoulders stripped of Robin yet covered in bandages.

"Don't talk to him like that." Hood snarled. 

"Hood -"

"No, Wing. I've seen this man berate you and hurt you, and you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it." the Red Hood pushed Nightwing back, putting a finger on Batman's chest instead and ignoring all the wide-eyed stares from the other bats. "You doubt everyone around you no matter how loyal, no matter how skilled. You value us as soldiers instead of family, and you really piss me off. You might be Batman, but you’re always Bruce. Is this the kind of man you want to be?"

Batman stilled, and even through the cowl, Hood could see genuine startle on the man's face. 

And Hood was suddenly exhausted. No one stopped him as he climbed on his bike and roared away.

Later, he spotted Nightwing sitting with Robin on a rooftop. 

Not Damian, though.

By time he made it up, his younger self was gone. Nightwing patted the spot Jason had had both moments before and years before. Jason plopped down, and both sat in silence, watching the stars.

"Thanks." Nightwing said.

Jason just nodded.

It was a strange thing that finally made him feel content. 

A very odd thing indeed.

He was out as Red Hood, using the time to get some anger out when he'd suddenly found concrete beneath his feet and paused. Nightwing was tied up, blood smeared down his hair, his face, and there was an asshole with clippers trying to pry his fingers out of the tight fist that the vigilante kept them in. Bloody, vicious anger coursed through Jason's chest, and a gunshot rang out. 

The psycho cried out, collapsing on the floor and holding a hand to his thigh. Hood ignored him, stepping over the man with little fanfare. 

Nightwing gave him a loopy grin. "Huh. Almost thought you'd be late this time."

Hood put his gloved hands on the other man's face, turning his head to get a good look at the injury. "Never. I'm in the hallway as we speak."

Nightwing grinned. "Wow. Three of you in an hour? Must be a special day."

"Your special day." Hood said. "It's just Tuesday for me. Or it was."

Nightwing laughed, and then Hood was back on the grimy street, mirth still following him. He smiled beneath the helmet, something in him relaxing. Something in him content.

(And if it was a familiar contentment, he didn't mind the bells ringing in the back of his mind. Some things were better rediscovered than remembered.)

Then there was a sound behind him. 

"Batman." Hood said, a bitter hint in his voice. 

"Hood." Batman said, but it wasn't the normal cold bark. "I . . . I wanted to ask you something."

"This oughta be good." Hood muttered.

"Do you remember?"

Hood stared. "You gotta be more specific than that."

"You got in trouble at school." Batman said, something fond slipping into his voice despite himself. "You broke some kid's nose over 'Pride and Prejudice.'" 

"Good reason." Hood replied.

"And I told you that while you were Robin, you were always . . ."

Hood stiffened. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

Batman pursed his lips. "I'm going to . . . I'm going to do that more. Think more about . . ."

"Yeah."

"I'd like it if you were there while I did." Batman said. 

"What, you need someone to keep you accountable?"

"I already have people for that." Batman replied. "I'd just like it if my son could see that he was welcome home."

The Red Hood was suddenly very grateful that he was wearing a helmet. "I don't know. I'll think about it."

Batman nodded. "I hope I'll see you soon. I know Agent A misses you."

Hood scowled. "That's not fair."

Batman smirked. "I never claimed to be."  

That night, Jason sat with ten-year-old Dick while he groaned. "Conjugations make no sense! English is the worst."

Jason picked up his homework. "English is the worst, but you'll figure it out."

"Jason!" Dick fell backwards dramatically. "I can't figure it out. I'm the worst, and once B realizes, he's gonna kick me out."

Jason stiffened, turning to look at the miserable kid. He set aside the paper. "You're not the worst."

"I am. All the kids at school call me a circus freak and stupid and -"

"You're not any of those things."

"I can't do it."

"Hey. If there's one thing I learned, it's that Dick Grayson can do anything." Jason said, grinning. Dick frowned at him, so Jason kept going. "You're Robin. You're magic. Those kids are insecure and just taking it out on you, but you're stronger than all of them. You can take anything - You're gonna be an amazing big brother."

"You think so?"

Jason grinned. "I know so."

Dick smiled at him, bright and happy.