Archive of Our Own

A CASE STUDY ABOUT F̶E̶A̶R̶ FAMILYHOOD

"I'm telling ya," Jason says, counting his forty-seven squat. "I shouldn't be here that often."

Dick only grunts, letting go of the dumbbell he'd been hauling for the past half-hour. He grabs a bottle of water from the ground, clearly ignoring Jason's words.

Jason decides to take a break, placing his hands over his knees, and looks at his brother. "You listening to me?"

The sigh Goldie lets out echoes in the training room--as if they've been talking about this for years, like this conversation wasn’t important.

"Jay, I know it's difficult for you to be here." Jason rolls his eyes at Dick’s words. "Believe me, I know, but avoiding the situation isn't going to make everything better," his brother insists. 

"I ain't avoiding shit!" Jason crosses his arms, his heart rate accelerating. Dick gently nods, encouraging him to talk, so he calms down. "I just," Jason bites his lip. "I just think it isn't the time, y'know? I mean, B just came back..."

His brother frowns. "And? What's that have to do with you coming home every once in a while?"

Jason pauses. 

"If anything, Bruce's happy you're here," Dick continues, walking towards him until he's close enough to place a hand over his shoulder, just like he used to do when Jason was little and new at home. "We're happy to have you here."

He shakes his head, standing straighter. Dick removes his hand.

"That doesn't apply to everyone here," Jason mutters. 

"Duke only needs to spend more time with you, that's all," Dick cracks a smile. "And Damian is passive-aggressive with everyone," Jason opens his mouth, just for his brother to shut him off: "Don't you worry, though, we're working on it."

He can't believe this. Goldie's more oblivious than Jason thinks or he's simply a goddamn idiot.

"This isn't about them," Jason glares, trying to make him think.

Dick raises his eyebrows and starts walking towards the door. He's leaving as if the conversation's over.

Fuck.

"Bruce will stop gazing at you when his brain processes that you're really here," his brother replies, looking at him one last time. "Give him time, Little Wing," and he leaves.

"Goddamit!" Jason kicks his own bottle of water, feeling a rush of frustration all over his body.

How's he the only one that notices Tim's shaking hands every time he enters a room?

-

Days later, after experiencing once again the feeling of having people to trust, after eating Alfred's waffles, after taking care of Damian's cow, after receiving a hug from Cass and a smile from Duke, after spending time with Bruce reading in the library... Jason concludes that his replacement will just have to get used to him.

How hard could that be? After all, Red Robin is the most adaptable of the Bats.

-

A month has already passed when Bruce tells him all about his plan to erase his death from everyone's brain.

Jason cries. He holds Bruce's hand and begs him to erase the memories from his mind too.

Bruce softly refuses, telling him that the family can't forget so that they--he--won't make the same mistakes again.

-

Jason starts to embrace a routine. He keeps spending afternoons with Roy, patrols at night 'til sunrise, and crashes at his crappy apartment to catch a blink. Sometimes, though, he sleeps at the manor, especially when he's had a rough night. That 'sometimes' transforms into an 'often' because Dick asks him once if he wants to kick some scumbags with him, and then Jason finds himself going out not only with him but with Orphan and Spoiler. Soon enough, he starts patrolling with Batman and Robin too.

He's accompanied Signal once or twice, only because he doesn't like the way his helmet pops in plain daylight. 

But, yeah, he sleeps at the manor pretty regularly now.

Jason has comms, too. Oracle in his ear--at his reach, no matter the hour--making the weight over his chest lessen.

His chest, a red bat drawn over it.

Even with the never-ending nightmares and the sometimes too much pressure of seeing Bruce, Dick, and his family almost daily, Jason feels safe, like he has reached a point where there are no more tides, only the soft rumbling of the sea.

Jason decides to try with Red Robin and, one night, he follows him on patrol. For a moment, he sees Tim's hands shake again... but then the replacement takes a deep breath and they stead. 

He figures Tim's getting used to him, at last.

-

Oddly, when Jason's home, Tim isn't there.

Or he is, but never in the same room as him.

The first time Jason eats with them--the table full of roast turkey, bread, cheese, fruits, and all the kind of food little Jason always wished for--Tim excuses himself, saying that he has dinner plans with Kon. 

The thing is, Jason now eats dinner with them regularly and Tim always excuses himself.

"I gotta catch a plane to Tokyo for a meeting," Tim blurts the moment he enters the kitchen.

"I have to follow some new leads on a case, don't wait for me!"

"Tam called and said she needs help... with something. Gotta go."

"Thanks, Al, but I'll have dinner at Kon's... Again."

"I'll just take some food to my room. I'm buried in WE work."

One day, he stops going into the kitchen at all.

Jason eats his homemade food in silence, surrounded by the laughter and banter of his family, and wonders if they've realized that Tim isn't home. 

(They never do. 

The turkey tastes like ash after that.) 

-

Jason starts patrolling more with Red Robin.

He stays meters away from him while watching his back all the same. Tim only side-eyes him. Together, they take some pieces of shit to Arkham, and some others they deliver directly to Commissioner Gordon. (Jason notices Tim's moves and techniques are oddly similar to the League's. He makes himself not think too much about it.)

The good thing about patrolling is that they don't have time to talk much; because when there is, when there's a rare moment of tranquility, the silence is heavy and his lungs feel like they're carrying bricks.

At home, he passes Tim bottles of water at the end of each training and attempts to include him in as many family conversations as possible, without invading his space or talking to him.

Jason's bad at words--no surprise there--which is why he starts doing instead of saying.

On the rare occasions that they do movie nights--Damian always fighting with Steph about how The Road To El Dorado is better than Hercules--, Jason scoots over the couch, silently offering Tim a space.

His brother never accepts it.

He doesn't give up, though. Bruce always used to tell him that he just needed to focus on what he wanted to achieve and that it'd eventually happen; Jason wants Tim to feel safe.

That's why he insists more on his actions: he smiles a little at Tim's jokes, nods at him every morning to say hi, and even supports his plans over Bruce's. 

It doesn't fucking work.

Tim's hands continue trembling.

-

One night, Jason wakes up shaking uncontrollably and covered in sweat. He can still hear Tim gurgling, choking on his own blood. His--his hands, his hands are covered in blood--are they? Are they really?

Jason should go and wash his hands.

The words murder, and Tim, and blood form a cacophony in his mind.

He stands up.

Seeing his reflection, water tap running, Jason thinks he should've done a lot of things differently. 

He should've apologized, first of.

-

He talks with Bruce some days later, tells him about how bad he wants to make things right with his brother. If Jason sheds a tear or two, Bruce doesn't say. His... dad... only grips his shoulder strongly and says that he's proud of him.

Then, he suggests the upcoming gala, saying that it's Tim's turn to go with him and that, if he wants to, he can join his brother--try and talk to him.

Jason accepts. 

He asks Bruce if he could drive apart from them, make up some excuse with Alfred, so he can spend some time alone with Tim.

Bruce simply nods, and asks for his help on a case involving Scarecrow and Two-Face, changing topics like it's no big deal.

Jason feels better. He has a plan now.

This time, he'll make things the right way.

-

Jason was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Since morning, Tim's hands haven't stopped shaking, spilling coffee all over the kitchen island.

Today is the gala, so Jason thought it best for Tim to know in advance that he would tag along. Tim's hands haven't stopped trembling since then.

He hadn't--he hadn't realized he's fucked Tim up that bad.

Tim never--never--looks his way but now he is straight-up starring at him, wide-eyed like Jason's going to slash his throat any minute now. 

And he can't blame him.

It is Jason's fault, after all.

How could he aspire to be a good brother when all this time he's ignored Tim's discomfort?

-

They talk. 

Jason, once again, sheds a tear or two but--just like Bruce--his brother doesn't comment on it.

Tim apologizes, many times, to Jason's horror.

Jason's petrified, seeing at first hand how much Tim has tried to hide his anxiety, and turmoils, from him... and the family. How much his little brother has tried to not break the ease that surrounded the manor lately--at his own cost.

Fucking hell. He wants to throw up over pure guilt and shame.

Jason apologizes, instead. (For once, he makes a good choice.)

It's too late and too weird, and fucked-up, but Jason finally says it.

"I'm sorry, baby bird."

He knows apologies don't mean shit if you only say 'em for your own sake, so Jason gives Tim the choice. 

"If you let me... I can be your brother. And if you want me gone... just say the word and I'll never come back. Not again. Not if it meant I'm hurting you."

And Jason means it. Someone in this fucking family has to give Tim a choice. It's been so easy to pretend that everyone's fine, that it's all rainbows and homemade cookies, but no fucking more. Jason's learned, and now he regrets putting his comfort over Tim's.

From now on, he'll make sure that his little brother isn't going to endanger his mental health--not for him, not for someone else.

Not even for the family.

Tim--as he always has--snaps him out of his own little world, and confesses that he was his Robin, talking about that first time they've met.

And Jason feels relief that, at least, Tim can remember something good from him. 

(It fucking hurts that he can't remember their first encounter.

He probably never would.)

Then, Tim says, he'd died.

Jason hugs him, not wanting to let go. His emotions are all over the place, he doesn't know what to do exactly, and he isn't sure of what he's feeling.

Grief, for the memories that they never had the chance to make. 

Anger, at his own fucked-up attitude, at his past violent actions, at his harsh and bitter words: Let's find out how tough you really are; I failed but I'm still beating you; Do you think you're that good now? Do you really, Tim?!

Sadness and regret, encompassing his soul, slowly, like honey being poured down.

It stings. 

But it gives him hope, too.

Tim makes him recall the way he was before, how much more alive he felt those days, how easy it was for him to go near someone and make 'em feel special.

His past version wasn't wrong, Tim is special--he just didn't know it for sure at the time.

After the whirlwind of emotions, they drive to the gala smoothly, Tim's laughter echoing in his ears.

They have a tough road ahead but, at least, they've given the first step.

Jason smiles. 

-

That very night, Jason dreams about birds and a table full of people.

His family. 

Tim's there too, laughing alongside him.

He's never had such good sleep. 

-

Tim and him are training on their free day, by Goldie's orders, after making some mistakes on the field last night.

(You're distracted, his older brother had said.

No, Jason had refuted, we're only making fun of Condi here, Dickwad, c'mon. 

Tim had laughed.

Dick had muttered something about the end of the world coming while Bruce'd let himself smile a little, seconds before scolding them.

They'd all ended up covered in fucking mustard.)

Tim's doing somersaults, or 'showing-off' as Damian calls it, while Jason runs around the mats. When Tim stops to have a break, Jason does too, offering him a bottle of water.

His brother grabs it, and Jason takes a deep breath, figuring this is his only opportunity and says: "I was thinking... And I—I realized that I didn't say sorry for, y'know, not paying attention... to you. Before."

The little bird blinks his way.

"I shoulda paid attention to how you were feeling," Jason continues, his heart beating with rage at himself. "God, you were anxious every fucking time... But I ignored it because I was fucking selfish," he spats, trying to maintain his eyes on Tim's even if it is goddamn difficult. "And that's not new. I just... I'll be better. Honest. I can't speak for our entire family... but I'm sorry, Tim."

Tim nods, slowly placing a hand over his shoulder as if he's giving Jason the choice to back off.

"Apology accepted," and he cracks an easy smile.

Jason gulps, nodding, and flashes a smile in return. He wants to ask Tim about his somersaults, too; wants to question his little brother about his time with the League--there's no way he learned that kinda tricks somewhere else--, about what happened and why did it happen.

He wants to ask Tim if he's okay.

Jason reckons that's a conversation for later.

-

Little by little, Tim starts to show up at dinner.

He keeps his distance, though, and Jason gets it. 

Baby-steps.

Jason feels lighter, anyway.

-

A couple of weeks later, Jason knocks on Tim's door.

It's past midnight, he's already late to patrol and nobody else is home--only Agent A but he's at the cave.

He knew Tim would be in his room because he'd heard when Bruce had benched him, hours before. Apparently, Tim's sick. Jason heard something about missing a spleen, too, but he's not sure he'd heard correctly.

"Hey," Jason greets when Tim finally opens, "you busy?"

His brother's desk is full of folders and photos. Jason can see the Joker's face on one of them--he looks away immediately.

Tim seems exhausted. "Working on something," his voice is raspy.

Jason quirks an eyebrow slowly, mindful of Tim's reaction. (He knows now that Tim isn't a fan of that gesture.) 

"Y'know you can't go out in like, three days, right?" Tim glares. "I'm serious, baby bird," Jason tries not to cross his arms--that'd be another trigger for Tim. "Anyway, I just came to tell you I finally got tickets for that nerd convention on Clarkopolis."

He's expecting Tim's smile but to see it forming on his brother's face is another thing completely. Tim is beaming at him.

No, wait. Tim is hugging him.

"Thank you!" He isn't letting go. "Thanks so much, Jay! How'd you get them?! It was sold out!"

Jason laughs, he can't help it. It's fucking wild how much has changed in a few weeks. 

Tim finally separates from him, vibrating in newly-formed energy despite his red nose and tired eyes.

"Roy helped," Jason says, grinning. "I'll bring him over for dinner someday, so ya can thank him."

"I will! I could seriously kiss him!"

Such a nerd.

Jason raises his palms, shushing Tim. "No shouting allowed while sick."

"Ay, ay," Tim mutters, a tired smile on his face. "Thank you again, Jay. You can come with me and my friends if you want," Tim offers, shyly. Jason stares--he doesn't know what to say. "To the convention, that is," his brother adds nervously as if he needs clarification.

"I'd fucking love to," he claps Tim's shoulder once, awkwardly. He still isn't used to the whole Tim's-older-brother gig, but Jason's happy they're trying now. Absolutely, mind-blowingly, happy. "Two weeks from now, right?" 

Tim nods, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Right."

"I'll make up space in my agenda," Jason jokes, smirking. "You gotta sleep. I'll see ya tomorrow, kay?" 

The little bird nods again, finally looking sleepy, and whispers a 'night'. 

Before Tim closes the door, Jason looks at his desk one last time, at the scattered papers and photos, catching the glimpse of Scarecrow and some lab. 

An uneasiness takes home on his chest. 

Jason ignores it. 

-

Tim's still benched when Jason can't find him anywhere in the manor.

"Hey, Goldie," Jason finally finds Dick in the greenhouse. "Have you seen Tim?"

Goldie shakes his head, pouring water over a plant, "He's probably with the Titans."

Jason hums.

"He was sick, though, couldn't leave the house for another day," he replies, making Dick look at him with a frown. "Ya got Kon's number?"

His heart is fluttering like a butterfly. Jason hates feeling like this--with dread and worry. 

Dick doesn't reply, he just takes out his cellphone, dialing Kon immediately. Jason can hear each ring.

"You sure he isn't here?" Goldie's already's got a worried tone in his voice. 

"Yeah," Jason crosses his arms. "I even checked the laundry room."

His brother does a half-turn, "Hello Kon, it's Dick, yeah. Hey, I just, is Tim with you? We can't—oh, all right," Dick turns to frown at him. "He said that? Hm, I guess he forgot to tell me." Kon says something else. "Yes, thank you, yeah, I'll let you know."

Dick hangs up, a blank look over his face.

"We need to call B right now," Dick pushes Jason out of the way, "and Barbara."

"Why? What'd he said?" Dick doesn't reply instantly and Jason feels furious all of a sudden. "What the fuck happened?!"

"Tim told his team he's going out on a mission with us," Dick's voice trembles. "He lied. They're off-world, so Tim's mission must be pretty important if he denied himself a trip to space."

Important only means dangerous in their vocabulary. 

Jason doesn't waste more time and sprints towards the exit of the greenhouse. "I'll contact Babs."

Tim's supposed to be home, he feels his throat contracting, plenty of horrible scenarios already forming on his mind.

Where the fuck are you, baby bird?

-

They're at the Cave getting ready to go out when Jason's mind--fucking finally--starts working. 

"The photos!" he shouts to no one in particular. "The goddamn case he was working on!"

Bruce and Alfred nearly snap their necks to look at him. 

"He was researching some lab, had photos of Scarecrow, the Joker, and who knows else," Jason babbles, once again getting angry at himself for not seeing it earlier, for not trusting his gut. "The folders, info, everything—they're at his room." 

Alfred silently places his hand over Jason's shoulder, grounding him. Jason takes deep breaths. 

Bruce nods resolutely. "That means he's probably at one of the Two-Face's labs we were investigating," he says to Jason, then he looks at Babs. 

She types furiously for a few seconds, "Wait," and stops abruptly. "Kay, I see four labs. Diamond District, Chinatown, Park Row, and the Financial District. I'm sending you all the exact locations of each." 

Bruce puts his cowl on, turning to Duke and Cass. "I want you two reading all there is in that folders to brief us through comms, when you finish you go and patrol Diamond District," they nod, scrambling upstairs. Bruce looks at Damian and Steph, "Robin and Spoiler, the Financial, search every single spot, anything suspicious you report back to us, understood?" 

"We will, Father," Damian agrees. 

"Let's go," Steph grabs Damian's hand on impulse, pulling him towards his bike despite the little bat's scowls.

"Hood, you're on Park Row. Nightwing and I'll go to Chinatown, if we don't find him we'll meet you at your spot." Dick's already starting up his bike when Bruce opens his comms for everyone to hear: "You find Red Robin, you report back to me and head to the nearest cave, copy?" 

A few mumbled 'copy's' sound in Jason's comms when he puts his helmet on and, before he can reach his bike, Batman stops him by the arm.

"We'll find him," he reassures. 

Jason nods curtly, biting his tongue so he doesn't start screaming at the top of his lungs. 

He's starting to see green.

-

Jason drives through the city with his heart pounding. It's been weeks since he felt like this--like he wants to rip apart every single thing that dares to be on his way. 

He doesn't stop taking deep breaths all the way to Crime Alley, concentrating on Duke's voice in his comms. For the data Tim had collected, it's impossible he didn't realize it was a trap. All the evidence is pointing towards that conclusion. He can feel the Pit on the back of his mind, nearly at his conscience, begging to be released.

The only thing he finds is Tim's bo staff, broken in pieces.

Jason sees red.

"We need backup," Nightwing's voice suddenly floods on his helmet, startling him from the Pit. 

He keeps some remains of the bo on his jacket and turns on the engine, a part of him desperately hoping to not see the Joker. 

Jason wouldn't hesitate to fucking kill him. 

-

When Jason arrives, Batman is busy fighting Two-Face while Nightwing distributes punches between Penguin and Harley Quinn. 

He then notices that they're all wearing gas masks. Jason curses. That only means one thing: Tim got gassed on fear toxin. But where the fuck is the baby bird? 

He assists his older brother with Oswald, wasting no time and kicking him multiple times on the stomach, the chest, the face, any-fucking-where. The Penguin doesn't get up but he's just KO'd, not dead.

Jason's breath is ragged--he's so fucking angry. 

He turns at N, who's tying Harley up while she babbles about jokes and foreplay and many other things Jason can't care less of. 

"Where's Red?!" 

He can't believe he's asking that. Red should've been out of this goddamn lab already. 

"Over there," Nightwing points to a medical table near some boxes. Jason can see Tim trembling and mumbling--he freezes. "We needed to take them out first," Dick laments, "he's got the antidote, though."

Bruce is tying Two-Face down, his chest rising and falling like he's gasping. Jason can tell he's fucking angry too. Two-Face's left arm is twisted in an ugly way and his face is full of blood. 

"Where are the others?!" Batman rasps, squeezing Harvey's chin without care. 

Harvey laughs maniacally. "This is your destiny, Batman. You can't create another path, not even for your Robins," he spats. 

Batman growls and holds Two-Face's twisted arm, lunging forward to break it more. Harvey's shout resonates on the walls. "I'm not gonna ask you again." 

Harvey's face crumbles but his gaze stays hardened. "They left!" Bruce intensifies his grip on the broken arm. "'T'was the Joker's idea! I swear to God, he paid us! Scarecrow left—!" 

Batman suddenly lets go of the broken arm, punching Harvey hard on the face and knocking him down. 

Jason is nearly vibrating. Now that he knows that the Joker has escaped--once again--and that Scarecrow left too, he doesn't know where to focus his anger on. The Penguin's already pulp on the ground, Two-Face too, and he doesn't want to be anywhere near Harley. 

He gulps his own fear at the inevitable and walks towards Tim--who's trembling, muttering under his breath, drops of sweat cascading from his forehead. He--he doesn't know how to feel. 

The closer he is, the more he can hear what Tim's muttering. 

"Please, p-please—" 

His brother's voice is breaking down between sobs and gasps. Jason feels like his whole world is only focused on Tim. 

"—Please don't, don't die," he's sobbing and moving around his arms. Jason places a hand over his forehead; Tim's burning. "—Be better, I swear, I swear."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Dick getting closer beside him.

"Is it working?" He can't move his eyes from the little bird.

Dick exhales. Tim's still muttering nonsense. Jason can hear Batman reporting to the others over comms.

"Go home to Agent A." B is getting closer to them. "That's an order, Spoiler," he growls to comms.

Jason is grateful that Bruce didn't make everyone come back here. He doesn't want everyone seeing Tim like this.

"The antidote would probably take longer than usual," Dick softly replies, placing his hand over Tim's hair and stroking it. Their brother seems to relax for a second. "Batman's armor picked up an unusually high percentage of fear toxin when we first arrived. The Joker and Scarecrow were already gone."

Jason looks at Dick, at the way his chin trembles even with the mask on, at the dark shadow taking place over his eyes. He knows his older brother would kill without thinking twice for Tim's sake, for any one of them's sake. A part of him relaxes, realizing that it's not always the Pit the one that takes hold, sometimes it's just the love he has for his family.

He shakes his head, willing the thoughts away. He needs to focus; his little brother needs them.

Tim finally opens his eyes, which stay unfocused, his pupils bigger than anything else Jason's ever seen.

"Tim. Tim, can you hear me?" Bruce is crouching, taking off a gauntlet to stroke Tim's hair and forehead. "We're here, son, we're taking you home," his tone sounds gentle despite the mask tampering his voice.

Tim doesn't acknowledge their presence, still muttering and crying silently, and Jason's heart breaks apart.

"We should go," Bruce stands up, unwavering as always. "He'll be better attended at the Cave. Seeing A always makes this easier for him."

Jason nods. "We need Agent A at the Somerset Cave ASAP," he orders over comms, and if his voice crumbles, nobody says anything.

-

Dick and Jason ditch their bikes in favor of traveling with Tim in the batmobile.

Bruce is clenching his jaw so hard Jason's afraid he'll snap it.

The only thing they hear for the next seven minutes is Tim crying and saying:

"Sorry, 'm sorry."

"I'll be better, I promise."

"Don't leave, please, don't leave!"

"My fault, my fault, my fault—"

Jason holds him tightly.

-

Jason's placing an exhausted Tim on a cot when he hears the screech of multiple bikes and suddenly Alfred is by his side examining Tim with Damian's assistance. He feels someone's hand on his shoulder.

It's Dick.

"You should eat something," Dick's eyes plead. "I'll stay with him."

Jason doesn't know if it's the adrenaline dying, the weight lifting from his shoulders, or the whirlwind of a night they'd all had, but he can't help it and shakes violently from his brother's hold.

"Get the fuck away from me," he growls.

The Cave silences, making Tim's whimpers echo. Bruce's coming their way with a frown over his features. Fucking great.

Dick slowly shows his palms and starts again. "I know we had a terrible night, Little Wing—"

Jason snorts, interrupting him. "Is there a thing you don't fucking know?" he closes his fists unconsciously. "Our little brother is right there! Living a fucking nightmare just because you're all pieces of shit with 'im! And you want me to leave him alone with you, of all people?"

The venom in his tone doesn't go unnoticed. Jason expects a growl in return but all Dick does is let his shoulders sag. He haven't expected the defeated look on his older brother's face.

Somehow, that only fuels Jason's bitter anger. Bruce stops walking to assess the situation from afar.

"What?!" he advances to Dick until their face to face. "Now you won't say anything, huh? Fucking coward," Jason spats. "Your own little brother doesn't even trust you with a fucking case and you won't say anything?!"

Somewhere deep inside, Jason knows that those words apply to him too. After all, Tim hadn't gone to anyone for help.

His brother's eyes are gathering tears--he looks to the side for a moment before holding his gaze on Jason's.

"You're right, Tim doesn't trust me," Dick's eyes harden. "He doesn't trust any of us."

Jason's heart stops for a moment. 

(And he can't help but think about the last few weeks, about Tim: smiling his way, hugging him, sitting down beside him at dinner, accepting his apologies, inviting him somewhere important for him... Tim, accepting him.

Jason wonders if, someday, it will all be enough for Tim to trust him.

He fears his attempts to be better are in vain.

Tim might never fully accept him, no matter how big of a heart his little brother has.) 

He lets out a choking sound, and for a brief moment, he's grateful that he's got the helmet on because the silent tears streaming over his face would've been hard to justify.

Without warning, he feels extremely tired--yet he stands his ground.

"Yeah," he rasps. "Glad your brain finally fucking worked," Jason looks around, making sure to hold his gaze on each brother and sister of his. "You all better start apologizing the moment Tim's awake, or you'll regret you're even born. I don't fucking care we're family."

Jason doesn't leave. He lets his words linger for a moment before standing beside Tim, holding his hand and looking at his crumbling face--even asleep he's still suffering the aftermath of the gas.

The others say nor do nothing.

-

It's when Tim wakes up that things get difficult again.

He's trashing on the cot, trying with all his might to separate himself from Bruce's and Jason's hold. 

"It's Jason, baby bird, it's just me," Jason tries to calm him down without success. "It's us, you're okay, you're fine, Tim," Bruce adds between grunts.

Damian's in a fighting stance, next to a teary Steph, in case everything goes more to shit. "You must sedate him!"

Jason counts to five and keeps Tim from hurting someone or himself. "Shut the hell up, nobody's sedating him," he growls at Damian, who only frowns more.

"Let him go," Cass says, taking slow steps towards them.

"Like shit," Jason grunts. Tim's fucking strong.

"Let him go," his sister repeats and suddenly Jason's being pulled backward, Bruce too.

For a moment, everyone looks wide-eyed, expecting the worst. Tim keeps trashing for a few seconds more, just to stop abruptly, apparently realizing no one's holding him down anymore.

He sits, like a robot, and starts gasping for air the moment he sees everyone. Jason shows his palms, calmly approaching him again. 

"Tim, hey," he coos. "Timmy, you with us?"

Tim shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "You—you're not," he tries to say, "you're not real."

His little brother starts sobbing uncontrollably. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jason tries to get closer but Bruce stops him with too much force.

"You died," Tim cries. "You're all dead! Stop, stop—stop tormenting me, please," he hides his face with his hands. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I already told you a million times, please, I'm so sorry."

Obviously, B lets Dick get closer. 

"Why the fuck not me?!" Jason quietly snarls at Bruce, who pays him no mind.

Dick raises his eyebrows at the little bird. "Tim, hey. You're all right." Tim refuses to look at him, still hiding behind his hands. "I promise. We're at the Somerset Cave, it's nearly nighttime," Dick offers cautiously. "We found you at a lab, remember? In Chinatown."

Tim finally shows his face, eyes red and puffy, and acknowledges Dick's presence.

"You were there, remember?" Tim nods slowly. "You tried to take down the lab, right? And you only expected the Joker and Scarecrow but suddenly there were many more, right?"

Tim practically shudders. "I thought—I didn't..."

"Hey, hey Tim," Dick leans closer. 

His little brother's gaze grows distant for a moment. "I thought I could save you, I thought I was good enough, I was wrong—was wrong, I couldn't—you left," Tim sobs.

"It's over now, it is," Dick insists, his adam apple bobbing. "Look at me, birdie. Can you look at me, please?" Tim does. Dick lets out a shaky breath. "Attaboy. Keep looking at me, please. I'm here, see? I'm not distorting, am I?" Tim shakes his head. "We're all here. I'm real, Tim. I got you."

When he sees the opportunity, Dick lunges forward, catching Tim in his arms and letting out a sigh of relief. He looks at his family, nodding, letting them know they can get closer now.

Tim starts crying again with his whole chest. "I'm sorry, please don't leave. I'll be better, please. I made a mistake—I'm sorry."

"Ssh," Dick caresses his hair, "ssh, you're safe now. You're safe."

Jason nods at his older brother, a silent 'thank you'. Dick only smiles tightly.

All of them hug Tim for what seems like hours.

-

When he asks Tim why he didn't tell anyone about the case, his brother hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller.

"I didn't want to worry you," he whispers. "I had intel that they got proof of your real identities. I just wanted to burn the proof—or even the lab if I needed to."

Jason sighs. 

"I didn't—I didn't know it was a trap," Tim says miserably. "I'm sorry. I should've known—the leads, I got them so easily. I should've—"

"You couldn't have known," Jason interrupts him. "You couldn't know," he repeats, firmly.

Tim nods, still unconvinced.

And Jason's mouth moves before he can stop himself: "You want a hug?"

"Y-yeah, please?"

Jason holds him.

They don't say anything else after that.

-

One by one, they offer Tim an apology.

And Jason knows because his family makes sure to do it when he's with Tim.

Being the family that they are, many words aren't used.

-

The first one to do it is Damian. It's almost time to patrol when he suddenly appears beside Tim. Jason is about to put his helmet on and check his artillery when he sees the little brat. His first thought is that he's only there to insult Tim and something in his gut twists.

But all that Damian does is reach at an oblivious Tim with his arm, shyly asking for his attention. Tim's eyebrows quirk in surprise.

"Tim," Damian nods, his face crumbling like it's taking all his self-control to not call him 'Drake' or 'pretender'. "I am here to apologize for my earlier behavior. I cannot assure that it won't occur again... I, however, give you my word that I will try to improve."

Tim frowns, "Am I dreaming?" and theatrically turns his head to look at Jason. "Or am I dead? I'm dead, right? And this is heaven or some celestial place—"

Damian scoffs. "Such infantile behavior is not acceptable from an older brother."

It doesn't go unnoticed to either of them that Damian no longer sounds exasperated. He sounds like he's continuing the joke.

Also, 'older brother'?

Death threats really do make people change, Jason thinks, smirking.

Tim beams at their littlest brother. "We're good, Damian. Now go and make someone else feel miserable," and he ruffles the brat's hair.

Jason gasps, expecting a blade, a fight and blood... but Damian only mumbles something about idiotic people and leaves.

Well, six to go.

-

Tim and him are eating french fries on the couch, zapping and wasting their time, when a nervous Duke arrives with a box in his hand.

"Hey, you want some?" Tim absentmindedly offers his plate full of fries.

Duke clears his throat. "Ah, uh, no," he says, "thank you, Tim."

Jason raises an eyebrow to Duke, who just smiles nervously at him and sits down.

"I just wanted to give you this," and Duke opens the box.

What the fuck.

Jason said apologies!

"Is that...?" Tim's mouth is forming an O. "Is that a hamster?"

Not animals! Goddammit.

Jason searches Duke's gaze for a few seconds until his brother looks at him. The hell? Jason mouths. Duke shrugs, smiling like a fool.

"Yeah, I just," and he grimaces. "I wanted to apologize. You're my favorite brother, I should've asked how were you doing. I care about you a lot and I just... I love you, Tim," Duke finishes, awkwardly smiling.

Tim hugs him immediately, mindful of the box--with a fucking rodent--that's between the two of them.

"Aw, Duke, you didn't have to!" Tim's eyes are shining. "I love you too. You don't have to apologize about anything, but I forgive you. Always."

Duke smiles.

"Yay, brother's bonding, so exciting," Jason interrupts the moment, still in shock with the new acquisition. "Why a hamster?" he asks, incredulous.

"Well, they're... nocturnal? Like Tim," Duke shrugs.

"They're also banned in Hawaii," Tim adds, uselessly.

Is Tim banned in Hawaii?

Duke effusively nods like Tim just said the fact of the century. "And they're cute! Plus, you can now start a competition with Damian and see who gets to adopt more animals."

Jason sighs and continues to eat his fries. "They're also homicidal maniacs with their families and friends," he says with his mouth full. "Shoulda gifted it to me, then."

Oh, shit. Jason isn't sure if he can joke about that in front of the little bird.

A pause.

Then, Tim starts laughing, Duke soon joining him.

Thank God.

Jason scoffs, hiding his smile with the fries.

-

They're all having dinner when Alfred, surprisingly, joins them at the table.

He's never done that--from what Jason can recall.

Alfred's also got a big box in his hands and Jason can see Steph squirming excitedly on her seat.

"Master Tim," he greets, "Miss Stephanie and I have a present for you."

Tim looks like his brain short-circuited.

"Please God, not another rat," Jason mumbles over his glass, making Duke snicker.

"Open it, please," and Alfred places it in front of Tim.

With a look of wonder, Tim opens slowly the box. The family is expectant, even Bruce seems excited.

It's a big, big cake.

The circumference and height of the bread are perfect. Alfred obviously cooked it. The letters on it, though? A fucking mess.

'Tim you're our hero! We love you'.

(They were Steph's job, no doubt. And she looks freaking proud of 'em.

As she should.)

Is Tim crying?

"You are special to us, young Sir, even if we fail to let you know—"

Tim practically drops all over Alfred--interrupting him for, Jason thinks, the first time in his life--and hugs him tightly, whispering something in his ear.

"Thanks, Al, thank you for always being there for me. Thank you."

Jason pretends he didn't hear.

Meanwhile, Steph stands up from her place and walks to Tim's chair. She hugs Tim from behind when he finally separates from Alfred. Tim holds her hands and lets his head drop in them while she whispers something in his ear. For a moment everything stills.

"I love you," she whispers to Tim. "So, so much."

Jason, once again, pretends he didn't hear and, once again, decides to interrupt the moment.

"Can we have a piece or is it just for Tim?"

Steph and his little brother laugh between tears, making the others laugh too.

"I did not finish my speech," Alfred looks at Tim fondly.

Tim shakes his head. "You don't need to say anything at all."

Alfred gives him a look that says 'I will say everything that I need to say to you right this very moment' and starts talking.

For the rest of the night, they hear Al's stories about Tim's first days as Robin and about how, since then, he's honoring the Wayne legacy. Steph contributes with so-funny-they'll-make-you-tear-a-little anecdotes.

Jason can't help the proud smile that forms on his lips.

-

Somehow, Jason misses out Cass' apology.

He only knows she did it because he finds her at the library with a crying Tim in her arms.

"I needed all of you and you weren't—you weren't there," he hears Tim sob without meaning to.

"Here now," Cass softly says, and Jason can see her hug Tim tighter. "Sorry, so sorry it hurt."

He leaves.

There's no one Jason trusts more--especially with a crying Tim--than Cassandra.

They'd be alright.

-

They're at the Cave analyzing an ongoing case of the Riddler with Bruce when Tim starts babbling about solutions, information, fighting techniques, and what-not.

Jason can see the exact moment Bruce's façade drops. The lines on his forehead disappear, his eyes turn softer and his mouth isn't twisted in any way. In fact, he leans on his chair, relaxed, and keeps looking and nodding at Tim, his whole attention on him.

After a few minutes Tim seems to realize that he's the only one talking--he seems to realize that they, especially Bruce, were totally focused on him.

"Uh, and yeah," Tim stutters, "I think, personally—I think that's the best way to, uh, defeat the Riddler."

Bruce nods, smiling a little.

Tim blinks owlishly. "There are, obviously, more, uh, forms of attack, and they're all valid! But I think, maybe, this one's the easiest? Yeah, the easiest."

Tim looks at Jason, freaking out.

Jason only smiles and shrugs. He knows that Bruce's attention can be a lot. Especially because, well, it's Bruce.

"Great job, son," B stands up and places a hand over Tim's shoulder. "My greatest detective," he says softly.

Before Tim has a heart attack, Jason squeals: "I'm right here!" and pretends to be offended.

He couldn't agree more with Bruce, for once.

-

Tim's doing somersaults when Dick enters the training room.

"Can I join?" Goldie asks.

Jason quirks a brow. "Ya don't have to ask, Goldie."

Tim stops for a moment to smile at Dick, who just freezes in his spot.

"'Kay then," Jason says to Dick, trying to fill the silence. "You wanna go a few rounds?"

After six exhausting rounds --Jason fucking hates Dick's flexibility--, he drops on the mat, his chest rising and falling. Goldie hovers over him with a shit-eating grin. He grunts.

"This isn't over," Jason warns. "I'm tired al-fucking-ready 'cause I've been training for three fucking hours."

Dick crosses his arms, still smiling. "Sure, whatever makes you feel better."

Tim stops doing whatever-the-hell he learned in his time with the League and drops beside Dick. "I want to spar with you, too."

His older brother beams. "Yeah, yeah, let's do it."

Jason sits on the mat with his back on the wall, and sips at his water. He sees his brothers spar for what feels like hours and realize that Tim's approaches makes him have advantage over Dick's flexibility. Huh. Tim's a box full of surprises. 

Jason sees them bicker for a while. Dick has the famous I'm-so-happy-I-could-explode smile plastered all over his face and Tim is rambling nonstop, making jokes and sarcastic comments with an ease that is nearly palpable. 

Suddenly, they stop sparring and only their gasps and laughter can be heard in the room. 

"Tim," and as always, Dick wastes no time.

(Since the very first time he interacted with Dick, Jason perceived him as the kind of person who would patiently wait for the right moment to make everything better again. His older brother is like that--a caged sunshine that frees himself sometimes too late. That's why the dynamic with Dick can be difficult to grasp. It doesn't mean it is bad, though. It just takes time to get used to.) 

"I just want to let you know," Dick exhales, "that I'm here for you, no matter what. I know—" he pauses, huffing. "I can't say 'I know it's been difficult' 'cause I can't speak for yourself, but for me it has," he looks at Tim's eyes. "The way everything changed between us... it's been a nightmare, I can't lie," Dick smiles sadly. "But I know that it's also inevitable—change is inevitable."

The little bird just nods, pursing his lips.

"I've already apologized for acting like an idiot," Dick continues, "for not being there for you when you needed support the most, but it seems that I keep making the same mistakes, right? And that just makes me wonder how much you've taken without complaining, and I just—I'm sorry, Tim. For everything."

"Dick, I—" Tim stops himself, letting out a shaky laugh.

Goldie just places a hand over Tim's shoulder and bends down a bit, searching for Tim's gaze.

"Hey, you don't have to," he says softly, "you don't have to forgive me now. I'm not expecting you to."

Tim suddenly looks exhausted, his eyes are watering. "We'll work on it?" he asks, hopeful.

Dick's smile comes back, softer around the edges.

"That we'll do."

Jason lets himself smile too.

-

They're on a rooftop eating tacos when Tim starts talking about his first encounter with the League and Ra's al Ghul.

His little brother takes pauses to continue eating--sometimes to take a deep breath. Jason learns all about Z, Owens and Pru, about how much it had meant for Tim to have backup, even if it was from assassins.

"Though," Tim clarifies, "the moment I started working with them I left behind the black-and-white point of view, you know? That kind of perception was a problem. I needed to rip it apart from myself so I could get the job done."

And, oh boy, does Jason knows.

He laughs when the baby bird tells him about how Tamara Fox had lied to Vicky Vale, saying Tim and her were engaged just to keep his secret safe.

Tim also talks about how he'd felt those days, saying that the emotion he recalls the most is doubtfulness.

"An overwhelming uncertainty," Tim says with a newly-found serenity. "There were times I thought I was insane... Felt like I was just wasting my time chasing ghosts."

In-between lines he lets Jason know he was depressed for a long, long time. Tim confesses he was trying to keep everything--especially himself--in control, that he'd held for dear life on a tiny strip of sanity so he could find Bruce, so he could have his family back. 

He doesn't tell Jason about his fallout with Dick, or about how much it'd hurt to have the Robin mantle taken from him... but he doesn't have to.

Baby-steps.

Jason listens closely to what Tim has to say--to what his brother wants to tell him. He nods silently, laughs when necessary and grips Tim's shoulder when his gaze gets a little too distant, trying to ground him back on Earth.

After that, they dismantle a dog's fighting ring and take the mob guys--the majority unconscious--to Commissioner Gordon. 

Tim's petting the poor dogs when Jason thinks that, maybe, the baby bird feels safe with him.

Or at least he's starting to. 

-

One night when Tim isn't home--he'd said something about going to the beach with Cassie, or was it Cissy?--, the whole family, minus Bruce and Alfred, intercept Jason in the hall. Unsurprisingly, everyone starts babbling about apologies, and selfishness and mistakes and loads of things Jason can't hear fine at all.

He shuts everyone up. 

"One at the time! For fuck's sake, didn't y'all go to school or something?" 

Steph takes a step forward. Her eyes are glinting, rebellious. "We wanted to clarify that we apologized to Tim because we realized our mistakes."

Duke lets out a 'yep'.

"'Cause we want to do better this time," she crosses her arms, "not because it was 'the right thing', or 'cause we were scared of your 'death threats'," Steph does air quotes and everything. 

"Which we weren't!" Duke adds, puffing his chest. Everyone looks at him. "Scared, that is," he smiles awkwardly. 

Jason fakes a bored face. "Points for bravery," he crosses his arms. "Guys, listen, you don't hafta—" 

"We merely wanted to let you know, Todd," Damian interrupts. "We did it for Drake. He... deserves... better," and the brat raises his chin proudly.

After Damian's words, everyone nods and scrambles.

Cass and Dick stay behind, though.

"Thank you," Cass looks intensely at him, "brother."

Jason simply smiles at her.

When she leaves, Jason looks at Dick expectantly. "Ya wanna clarify your intentions, too?"

Dick chuckles.

"I always knew you'll eventually surpass my abilities, you know?" his brother says instead, gently, still with his arms crossed, still smiling like a fool. "You don't need anyone's validation but I'll still say it: I'm proud of you, Little Wing."

Before his older brother turns around, Jason advances a few steps and stops him by the arm.

"You wanna go eat at Bat-Burger?" he aims for casual, "just to piss B off."

Dick smile grows even bigger. "I thought you'd never ask."

-

"I think this belongs to you."

Tim blinks. "Oh," he mutters, grabbing his fixed bo staff. "Where'd you get it?" 

Jason sits down next to him. "Crime Alley."

Tim's examining the bo, caressing the newly-added parts of it with wonder.

"I couldn't save every part of it," Jason smiles bitterly. "I added the red metal and some rattan wood, though."

"You added it?" Tim asks, joking, his eyes shining.

Jason grins. "I'm an expert at this... bo stuff, Timmy. I obviously repaired it with my bare hands."

"You made a beautiful work, both with the bo and the pun," Tim laughs, standing up. He does weird poses and stunts with the bo. "Very maneuverable."

"I can't tell if those poses are real or if you're just shitting with me."

Tim does another pose, "Guess we'll never know," and gifts him a shit-eating grin.

-

Nearly at the end of the bo, crafted elegantly, is a tiny drawing of a car with a robin bird next to it.

And when Tim asks about that symbols, Jason denies it all.

"I only requested the red metal and the rattan," he frowns with faux confusion. "I dunno what the hell you're talking about."

Tim only gives a him knowing look and asks if he wants to patrol with him that week.

Jason obviously says: "You bet."