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“Oh no,” Nightwing breathes, staring up at the limp body dangling precariously from Ivy’s leftover vines.
He whirls on her, and watches her expression go smug. “He is one of yours, isn’t he.”
“You - you -“ He can’t come up with the words. He hears Babs, Tim and Damian talking frantically in his ear, but ignores them. “What did you do to him?”
Ivy laughs. “Just a little memory displacement. You should be happy! When he wakes up he won’t remember a single thing. He won’t try to kill you anymore!”
Nightwing goes silent.
He hears Red Robin hesitantly say, “Dick? Who is it? Who does she have?”
He doesn’t answer.
Ivy continues - “You should thank -” She doesn’t see him move. A swift movement of his escrima sticks, and she’s out.
“Red,” He manages to choke out, staring up at the body - not body, he tells himself fiercely. He’s alive, he’s alive - “What, exactly, were you saying about a new apartment?”
“No,” Tim says. “No. I refuse.”
Dick rolls his eyes. “You’ve been saying that for the past fifteen minutes, and yet, you’re still here.”
Damian makes a sound of agreement. “If you truly did not feel any urge to care for him, you would have left as soon as Grayson asked this favor of you, Drake.”
Tim’s next words are frustrated. Dick bites back a sigh. “No, I’m staying to make sure Dick doesn’t make any stupid decisions! Like let him stay here!”
“And where else do you expect me to drop him?” Dick asks.
Tim’s mouth opens and closes. His brow pinches. He adopts a constipated expression.
“Exactly,” Dick says.
Tim groans. “Fine. Fine. You win. I’ll take him to my apartment. But I swear to god, Dick, if he tries to kill me, again, I will -“
“Never let it go, attempt to maim me, set Cass on my case about the dangers - yes, yes, I know. You’re a saint, Tim.” Dick sends him a blinding grin.
Tim facepalms. “I’m going to regret this.”
(“I did regret it,” Tim notes several years later, sliding a shot of vodka across the table to an exhausted Dick Grayson, who downs it without a shudder and responds with an abundance of sarcasm: “Sure you did.”)
Jason is tired. Shockingly, this is all he can think about after waking up in a strange bedroom in nothing but boxers. Really, this should have worried him more.
Especially when he discovers that he remembers nothing but his own name.
He doesn’t really get time to dwell on this, because someone - a kid, really, black hair and blue eyes just like him - walks into the room just then, crosses his arms, and shifts his weight to one leg. It’s the sassiest thing Jason’s ever seen, and paired with the bitchface, which Jason would guess is the kid's resting face, Jason can honestly say it's also the hottest thing he's seen.
Really. The only person he remembers seeing is this kid.
And that’s not even a memory.
“What do you remember?” The kid says bluntly.
Jason frowns. “Did I get trashed last night?”
The kid’s mouth twitches slightly in the corners, which Jason counts as a win.
“No, really. Are you expecting me to not remember a single thing about who I am, or…?”
The kid sighs. “Yeah. You shouldn’t remember anything. Since you don’t recognize me, I’ll assume that’s the case.”
The kid turns to go, and before he can think about it Jason calls, “Wait!”
The kid raises an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “You do remember?”
“I remember my name,” Jason says, frowning and sliding off the bed. “That’s it. Jason. No surname, no age, nothing else. It’s… weird.”
The kid sighs. “Alright. Noted.”
“What’s your name?” He blurts.
The kid turns to look at him. Carefully. “Tim,” He says. “And I really need to go. You can… look around if you’d like. There are clothes in the closet that should fit you. Just don’t leave the apartment. Not until you remember. It’s not safe.”
Jason nods. “I get that. Do I… Do I know you? I mean, I’m here, so obviously I do, but -“ He stops talking at the pained look the ki - Tim, his name is Tim - is developing.
“Yeah. You could say we have -” his mouth twists, “- family in common.”
Jason notes that he doesn’t say flat out that they’re related. So either they hate each other, or... well. Either way… it seems Tim doesn’t want Jason in his apartment. So why is he here? “…Thanks,” He says hesitantly. If Tim notices, he doesn’t comment, instead choosing to leave the room. And the apartment, if the slam and click Jason hears is from the front door.
"Great. Just great," He mutters.
When Tim gets back from his day job at Wayne Enterprises, he's almost surprised to see that Jason actually listened, and hasn't left. Unless he found the hair Tim left below the bottom hinge, trapped between the door and the jamb. Which is unlikely. Jason was never one to pay attention to details, and that likely carried over, despite his amnesia.
He's more surprised to see a box, labeled with the name of the city's grocery delivery, sitting on the table. Maybe Jason was more observant than he thought, Tim admitted to himself grudgingly.
More importantly, though - "How did you pay for that?"
Jason looks up from whatever he's doing at the oven - Tim can smell something cheesy and good, what the fuck - and scowls at him. "Your fridge is an atrocity, Tim. All you have in your kitchen is cup o noodles, water, weeks old jell-o and stale cereal. How are you still alive?"
Tim's pretty sure he's doing a wonderful impression of a fish at this point.
"And for your information," Jason continues icily, "I found a wallet in one of the pairs of jeans you left me. And an id with a name that is decidedly not Tim."
Tim was going to kill Dick. Did he not search Jason's clothes for something identity revealing?
"And the name...?" Tim pushes.
Jason rolls his eyes. "Damian. Honestly. Who names their kid that?"
Tim lets out a startled breath, and by the look Jason gives him, he made a noise. "Yeah, that's my brother. Good for you, though. Steal from him all you want. He's an ass, and he very much deserves it."
Jason grins at him.
Then the oven beeps. "Oh, nice."
"What's that?" Tim asks, slinging his bag off his shoulder and sitting down with barely a noise.
"Baked macaroni and cheese. With ham. And I have boiled broccoli. And you are eating every piece, because take-out -" Here, Jason sends a glare at the trash can, which is filled with takeout boxes. Tim winces. "- does not qualify as dinner."
"I didn't know you could cook," Tim says. Nothing will surprise him after this. Jason Todd cooking and worrying over nutrition. Really. "I'm pretty sure you eat more take-out than I do."
Jason looks pretty horrified by this. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
And at that, Tim laughs. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.
It's been over two weeks.
Jason still hasn't remembered anything.
Tim says the doctor he talked to told him not to tell Jason anything, because it might just trigger a longer amnesia, with the way he was first affected. Tim won't even tell him how he got amnesia.
Somehow, along the way, they become something like friends.
Tim goes to work every day except Sunday, when he sulks around the apartment for a few hours, then gets tired of Jason's constant wheedling and they go outside together. Turns out ice cream fresh in a cone while walking around a park is much better than ice cream from a container, inside a house.
It's a Sunday like that when it happens.
"Tim!"
It's a voice Jason hasn't heard before - or at least, doesn't remember hearing. Tim however, visibly reacts to the voice. His eyes widen, and he grabs Jason's free hand and pulls him along, rushing in the direction of their apartment. Their? Since when do I -
He doesn't have time to berate himself for his mental slip, because the source of the voice is suddenly right there.
"Kon," Tim says, still looking shocked and like he'd rather be anywhere else. "This is really, really not the best time."
"Kon" frowns, ignoring Jason. "Are you serious? You haven't been to see us for ages, Tim! Bart and Cassie are starting to get worried."
Tim gets that pinched look on his face, the look Jason has come to recognize as the i-don't-need-nor-want-to-talk-to-you look. "Yeah. Um. Jason, this is my friend, Conner. Kon, this is Jason."
Conner clearly recognizes him. "Uh, Tim? Isn't he -"
"Yes," Tim interrupts, glaring. "He has amnesia. We can't tell him anything, or it'll get worse."
Conner is blatantly staring. Jason scowls at him.
Conner looks away. "So this is why you've been ignoring our calls?"
"Yes," Tim says, and it's clearly paining him to admit it. "He's my responsibility, and I can't - I can't fly all the way to San Francisco, Conner. Not now."
Conner looks dejected, but understanding. "Alright. I'll pass on the message." He hesitates. "We do miss you, Tim. I know you've got that complex -"
"Conner," Tim hisses, looking offended. "It's fine. Honestly. I'll answer you guys next time you call, okay?"
Conner purses his lips. "Yeah. Okay. I'll see you then, Tim."
Jason watches a smile creep on Tim's face as he watches his friend go.
"So I'm just a responsibility now?" He asks, hating to wipe the only joy he's seen Tim show off his face.
Tim whips his head around. "No! No, Jason, that's not what I -"
"You can go with them, you know? I'll be fine on my own. You clearly want to."
Tim bites his lip. "That may be, but you do matter to me -"
"Do I?" Jason says, raising an eyebrow. "I can't remember anything, but the way you acted when I first saw you - that I can remember - we hate each other. I can tell. I don't know why you even bother to pretend otherwise."
"Jason, I -"
"Save it, Replacement," He says, then freezes.
Tim has stilled also. "What did you just call me?" His voice is flat, emotionless.
"I don't -" He tries, really tries to remember. "It just slipped out. I wasn't thinking. Is that... I used to call you that."
"Yes," Tim says. He still sounds cold.
Jason clenches his teeth. "Why the hell do you stay around me then? Clearly, however you felt, I hated you. Why do you even bother?"
Tim is silent.
Jason feels his throat constrict. "Okay. Well. I'll see you around, I guess." And then he's off.
Tim doesn't follow.
Jason might not remember anything about the city, but he's read the news. He's seen the forums. Gotham is a dangerous place to be, especially at night. Especially on your own.
Something in him isn't scared at all, though. Something in him welcomes the wind in his hair as he runs, the sound of his boots pounding on the concrete. Something in him tells him he'd like the sound of boots on roof tile even more.
Eventually, thought, he has to stop. He hasn't broken a sweat, isn't even breathing hard, but he doesn't think he has the will to run anymore.
He feels something cold in his hand, and realizes he's still holding his ice cream cone. Disgusted, he tosses it into a dumpster along the wall.
There's something about this place... Something...
He stares up at the abandoned theater. Something...
Tim can't stop checking his phone. Conner watches him, half amused half worried. "He'll be fine, Tim. He's the Red Hood. He's literally died and managed to come back from it."
Tim groans, and puts his head in his hands. "That's not exactly reassuring."
Tim's phone chooses that moment to buzz. Tim grabs it, frantic. "It's from Bart," He says, relieved. "He found him unconcious."
"Alright," Conner says. "So now you can rest. You've been worrying for hours. Take a break. Sleep."
"No, I can't -" He stops when he sees the expression on Conner's face. "You're going to make me, aren't you."
"Even if I have to use TTK," Conner agrees.
Tim sighs.
Jason wakes up in what has come to be his bed. Tim bursts in the second Jason moves a millimeter, cross-armed and bitch-faced as ever.
"Deja vu much?" Jason quips, and grins when Tim's lips twitch upwards into a parody of a smile.
"Don't do that again," Tim orders. He bites his lip again, and lets his face relax slightly.
"...Were you worried?" Jason asks, surprised.
Tim gapes at him. "Of course I was! You went running off in the middle of fucking Gotham, with no way to defend yourself, no knowledge of anything outside of the park we go to sometimes!"
Jason sits in silence.
Tim tilts his head, studying him. "...Jason?"
A smile spreads across his face. "Thanks."
"What?"
"I just. I don't think anyone really cared if I got hurt, you know? Before the amnesia. No one's said that to me in a while."
Tim's expression softens, and he drops his arms. "Well, I care now. So be careful, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah."
It does mean a lot to him, no matter how hard he tries not to show it. He can tell Tim knows.
"I don't know about you," Tim says carefully, "But I didn't finish my ice cream."
Jason raises an eyebrow, seeing where he was going.
"I can ditch work today, no one will care."
He grins. "I might just take you up on that."
And Tim smiles at him - the way he saw Tim smiling at Conner before. Something genuine. Something beautiful.
Another week passes, and still Jason recalls nothing. Not even about his slip up before, calling Tim "Replacement".
Tim doesn't like to think about it. Doesn't like to remember that one day, Jason will remember, and it'll be back to exchanging blows on the street, and fighting within an inch of their lives.
He doesn't want to think about what it will be like when Jason leaves.
As much as he'll deny it, Jason has become a part of his life. He expects the sarcastic quips at the news, the blunt retorts to Tim's sometimes stupid comments. He's become the only person Tim can talk with that isn't Dick or the demon.
But he does still have a night job.
And hell if he's going to let the demon take his patrols from him.
Dick texts him sometime around noon - Two Face is out and he's going to be at Warehouse 22 to pick up something at 22:22, tonight - can he make it?
So he responds with an affirmative and tells Jason he's going to be held up at work late, don't stay up for him.
The battle goes well - he and the demon occupy the goons while Dick fights Two Face - until the demon manages to get his arm broken and Dick is distracted enough for Two Face to get a shot around him. It misses. Barely. Tim gets grazed on his side. It's hardly the worst he's had, he thinks, and tries not to remember Jason slamming a batarang into his chest.
They apprehend the villains after that, quickly and efficiently. It's a clean job.
Tim slips in through the kitchen window, cursing himself for not unlocking his bedroom one earlier. He strips, hiding the suit in a towel in case Jason heard him.
Grabbing a first aid kit, he heads for the door to the hall, freezing as he hears Jason say, "Tim?" sleepily.
"Uh, yeah!" He calls. "Just got back. Go back to sleep."
But Jason's already down the hall and leaning on the doorframe, squinting at him. Tim awkwardly moves the towel to cover as much of his side as he can. "Did you really come into your own apartment through the window?" There's definitely amusement in his voice.
Tim opens his mouth to defend himself, but before he can, Jason's noticed the blood. "Tim?" He repeats, alarmed now.
"I can, uh, explain?" Tim says.
Jason's at his side in an instant, gently moving the towel bundle away. His eyes widen.
"It's just a graze," Tim says. "It's fine, I'll be fine. I've had worse." His mouth clamps shut. He should not have said that.
"Some company thing, huh?" Jason says, neutrally. He wrests the first aid kid from Tim's hands and points to a chair.
"Yeah," Tim says. "Some company thing."
Jason remains silent as he pulls out disinfectant, up until he tapes the gauze together around Tim's torso.
He stands. "I'm not going to ask," He says, "Not because I'm pretty sure you wouldn't tell me anyway. But because I don't want to know. I don't want to know why you almost got shot, or why you've dealt with worse. But please, Tim. Please be a little more careful."
Tim swallows. "I want to tell you I will. I want to tell you I'll try. But I don't know... I don't know if I can."
Jason leans on the counter, looking conflicted. "I... I don't want to lose you, Tim."
Tim exhales. The past month, and all the thoughts he's been running from, all the denial he's kept himself in - all of it catches up with him in an instant.
"I don't want to lose you either."
He feels his eyes become inexplicably wetter, then blinks, trying to keep the tears from escaping.
Jason turns silent again. Then he turns to the freezer and pulls out two containers of ice cream, handing one to Tim and keeping the other for himself. "To the fear of loosing someone," He says sardonically, raising the tub as if it were a champagne class.
Tim smiles. "To the fear of loosing someone," He echoes quietly.
Neither of them get any sleep that night.
Jason needs air.
Well, no, that's not what he needs, but that's what he's trying to convince himself he needs. He knows the kitchen window is unlocked - after Tim came home that one time, at two am yet bleeding heavily from a bullet graze, he's checked every night. Always unlocked.
So one day after Tim has left for work, Jason slips away, and runs.
He hopes his feet will take him where he wants to go, maybe on instinct, or some subconscious reflex he doesn't remember developing.
He doesn't know the name of the place, so he can't look up directions. Tim would know. Tim seems to know everything. But if he asks, Tim will ask why.
So he's putting a lot of his hope into his instinct.
And he really doesn't want to be wrong.
Again, he stops, not because he's tired, not because he's lacking breath, but because he doesn't want to run anymore.
He closes his eyes, hoping, hoping -
and when he opens them, he sees the theater again. The abandoned one.
And it's nagging at him again. Something. Something.
He looks around, and catches a glimpse of the street sign.
Crime Alley.
He gasps, clutching his head. Crime Alley.
A smaller version of him heads back to the Batmobile, not noticing the Bat already there -
"Well - Come to finish the job, boy?"
An older person - Alfred - wrapping Jason's wound -
"The place his parents were murdered - Crime Alley."
Standing in the Batcave, overhearing Nightwing and Batman -
"I know he's not you." "No. He's not. Maybe he'll be better than me." "He's Robin."
The Joker in a warehouse. The pain the pain the pain -
"What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand?"
Talia al Ghul -
"Be the Batman that Gotham needs... Cross the line."
In a red helmet, fighting Batman - Bruce -
"You say you want to be better than me, but it won't happen. Not like this."
Tim. Oh God, Tim -
"I'm ending your little masquerade now, Jason."
"You have one chance to save yourself, Tim. Join me. Be my Robin."
"Fuck," Jason says. "Fuck."
He remembers. He remembers everything.
Tim returns to the apartment, expecting Jason to be snickering at something on his laptop, or watching the news, but instead finds deadly silence.
He frowns. "Jason?" He calls, slipping a hand into his pocket and wrapping it around a bird-a-rang he always keeps with him. "Are you here?"
A moment passes, then he hears, "Yeah, in my room."
He breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing.
From then on Jason seems to be acting weird, avoiding his gaze and talking less. Jumping when Tim says his name.
Finally, Tim gets fed up with it. "Are you okay?"
Jason makes a face at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't bullshit me. You're avoiding looking at me. And you're acting jumpier than usual."
"I just... When - if I regain my memories... Would you go back to hating me?"
Tim feels his heart skip a beat. Oh. He thinks about it, as if he hasn't been since he realized that he really, truly liked having Jason around. "I... don't know. I think, I wouldn't be able to. But you might. You're more likely to, to be honest."
"No." And Jason looks so truly offended by the suggestion that he'd ever hate Tim that Tim almost believes him. "I just..." He struggles with something within himself before slumping forward. "Never mind."
Tim eyes him worriedly, but lets it go.
Jason doesn't know why he's still there.
He has his memories back, he could leave whenever. He doesn't even have to tell Tim. But the thought makes him squirm - and then he has to let his head fall onto the nearest hard surface because growing attached to Baby Bird really wasn't part of the plan. He's supposed to hate him. Not want to go on fucking walks in a park and eat fucking ice cream with him. Especially not Superman ice cream, why the hell did Tim let that to happen?
Possibly to hold it over him when he got his memories back. But Tim did seem sincere - he doesn't think he'd hate Jason.
And now Jason knows why he can't sleep at 10pm like a normal person.
So he stays up in his room, then once he hears Tim get back from patrol and collapse into his own room, Jason sneaks out into the living room to mope there instead. He isn't angry anymore, and it's pissing him off - he doesn't want to provoke Dick anymore, he isn't mad at the re - Tim - for taking Robin from him. He isn't even mad at Baby Bat. This - the apartment, what he has with Tim (whatever it is) - it feels like home. What he told Tim before - no one had worried for him in a long time - was true. It feels good to have someone who cares...
It's around three when he hears the kitchen window slide open.
Immediately, he's around the back of the couch, eyes on the now-open window. There's no wall between the kitchen and the living room, so he sees it when a small, feminine form covered in a black suit slips through.
He exhales when he sees the yellow bat on her chest. Black Bat. Cassandra Cain. Friend of Tim's.
She seems less surprised to see him, and he knows she's arching an eyebrow at him through the mask.
"Uh... hi?" He says.
"You haven't told him," She says.
"Told him what?"
She scowls. "You remember."
He freezes. "How...?"
She shrugs. "I know things. Tim says is uncanny."
He can't really do anything besides accept her answer. "You won't tell him."
She shakes her head. "Your job."
"Then why are you here at 3am?"
Her lips curve into a smile. "Steph."
"Ah." Because whatever Stephanie Brown wants with her ex has nothing to do with him.
She nods at him, and takes off to Tim's bedroom.
He stares after her and decides it'll be better for his health to hide in his bedroom.
Tim talks to Dick about Jason. Dick says, again, that whatever Ivy dosed him with, will get worse if they try to shock him out of it, but it should wear off on its own. Once it does, though, he'll be in some kind of brain-related pain, so Tim should know, as long as he's around to see it.
They don't know how long it'll take, but Dick estimates about a year.
He's going to be too attached by then, Tim knows. Jason will hate him, but Tim will...
"Tim?" Jason's looking at him, worriedly. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah. Yeah I'm fine."
Jason frowns, but he lets it go, and the two of them go back to watching the movie Tim picked out.
Tim curses his luck. Since when does the Joker attack goddamn parks? Since now, apparently.
Tim dodges a faming car that flies towards him, and ducks behind a bush, pulling Jason with him. "You need to run. Don't wait for me. Don't question it, please, just run."
Jason scowls. "No. I'm not leaving you."
"I can't lose you!"
"Well I can't lose you!"
Tim groans. There isn't time for this. He calls Dick, and listens to the ringing, praying he answers. Then he sees Jason stripping.
He gapes for a straight five seconds, before, "Jason, what the fuck are you doing??"
Jason grins at him, all teeth, a grin Tim hasn't seen since - "Being a damn sight more effective at stopping that monster than you are, Baby Bird," He says, and out of the bag he's been insistent on carrying since like, a month ago, he pulls -
Tim stares. "You have got to be kidding me," He says, lowering the phone and ignoring Dick's panicked shouting about the news, the Joker, and a park.
Jason snickers, lowering the red helmet onto his head. "You coming?"
"I left mine at home," He says after a beat of silence. "And I'm not fighting the Joker in civvies."
Jason shrugs. "More for me then."
And he dives into the chaos.
Tim can't help himself - he has to watch.
Jason obviously hasn't been fighting in a really long time. Tim can tell by the slight hesitation, but as the fight goes on and he takes out more henchmen, he becomes more confident, pausing less and throwing himself into the moves of his knife.
Tim notes the disappearance of his guns.
By the time Batman and Robin arrive, 'Hood has taken out all the henchmen and has been fighting the Joker for a while.
They land by Tim.
"So, Todd remembers?" Damian demands.
"Apparently," Tim says.
"What do you mean apparently?" Dick says. "You should've seen -"
"He's been carrying a bag around for a month. For no apparent reason. Today, he took his helmet out of said bag, which is now empty. He's remembered for a month, Dick, and he still stuck around."
Dick contemplates that for a while. "Maybe -"
"HEY! RED HOOD, OR WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS! WHY DON'T YOU COME BACK AND FINISH ME, HUH?"
The three bats turn to stare. The Joker glares at them from where he's tied to a flagpole. "What?"
Jason is nowhere in sight.
Tim gets home, and immediately collapses on the couch.
He stays there for several hours.
"Why," He mutters to himself, "did he stay?"
There's a knock on his door.
He drags himself into a standing position, and opens it.
The last thing he expects to see is Jason Todd.
He gapes.
Jason grimaces. "So, I know I kind of didn't tell you that I remembered. For a while. But."
"A month," Tim interrupts, "is a little longer than a while."
"Ah. Yeah."
Tim sighs. Wordlessly opens the door wider, and steps aside.
Jason raises an eyebrow.
"Um. I assumed you'd only be here, y'know, if you wanted to stay," Tim says, flustered. "You know what, sorry, forget I did that."
"No no," Jason says quickly. "I... I do. Want to stay. I mean. I just thought. You wouldn't want me to. Because I stabbed you. In the chest."
"Oh," Tim says. "There's that."
The two of them are silent for a moment, before Tim says, "We're really messed up, aren't we."
Jason snorts. "That'd be an understatement."
"So. Do you want to stay, or...?"
"Yeah," Jason says quietly. He smiles, and Tim feels his cheeks heat up. "Yeah, I'd like that."