Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason Todd was seriously, seriously not having a good day. Of course, that’s all relative; compared to the shit he’s been through over the last few years, his day has been great. But Jason was nothing if not a complainer at heart. He’s fairly sure having one of your safe houses blown and getting shot in the shoulder counts as a bad day, though. Or bad night, if you wanted to be specific. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder, reminding him that perhaps getting distracted while the asshole that shot him was too close for comfort was not in his best interests. Getting a better look at Asshole-Who-Shot-Him, Jason realized they were way too agile for the average Gotham thug. Well, shit. Losing them in the shadows would ordinarily not be a problem, after all; if anyone knew their way around this area of Gotham, it was him. Plus there was no way his chaser was a Gotham native, someone of this calibre would have fallen under B’s radar ages ago. Of course, there’s always a chance that B just hadn’t deigned to tell him. Which kind of hurt actually, but he needn’t really be surprised, in all honesty. All of this mental rambling was fairly conclusive proof that the blood loss from his shoulder wound was getting to him, which was also why he couldn’t hide. His blood was dripping down in a nice little trail for whoever wanted to follow, and Jason knew precisely who wanted to. Fighting was also not an ideal option; he hadn’t had time to grab his guns before the safe house had been attacked, and hand-to-hand was not the best idea. After all, he only had one functioning hand at the moment, and they had two. With guns in. He didn’t really fancy those odds. Another gunshot; the bullet hit the wall of the apartment block to his left. Right, running. Running was good.

Richard Grayson was seriously, seriously having a bad day. Admittedly, he’s had worse days. Like the day his parents fell off a trapeze to their deaths directly in front of him. Yup, that one had been pretty bad. But, in all fairness, getting beaten almost to death by a supervillain and then being fired from the position he’d been working super hard to achieve right after? Not great.
Stupid Bruce. What does he know, anyway? He can’t just fire him from being Robin. Robin is him, he is Robin. It’s his mother’s name for him, his family’s colours. It’s the best way he has to remember them, to honour their memory and what right does Bruce think he has, taking it away from him? He’s been working so hard, for months! But every time he does something right, it’s ‘not good enough, Robin. Do it better.’
Because when had he actually, really ever been good enough? The only reason he’s here is because Bruce was at the right place at the right time and has serious issues concerning his parents. He wasn’t even wanted anymore. Certainly not as Robin. Making his mind up, Dick grabbed his brand new rucksack he had been planning on using as a school bag. Bruce had even let him pick it out; it was black with this really cool blue stripe across it! Shaking his head to clear it, he quickly crammed all of his most important things and his secret stash of chocolate in. You never knew when chocolate could come in handy. Should he write a note? He supposed he owed it to Alfred, at least. He was going to miss Alfred. After a lot of deliberation, he quickly penned a note, left it folded on his duvet and climbed out of the window. Where to now? He didn’t know. But running-running was good.

Jason was really starting to get desperate. Whoever was trailing him was scarily good, and Jason wasn’t in any way on his best game. He’d managed to draw his attacker into a wild chase over the rooftops of Gotham, moving far into what was official Bat territory in the hopes of scaring them off, completely unsuccessfully. Whether he was hoping for assistance from B? Well that didn’t really matter, seeing as the bastard couldn’t be bothered to even show up, apparently. Jumping over a ledge and wincing at the pain in his shoulder, Jason was debating the pros and cons of staging a desperate final stand because he knew his limits and he knew he couldn’t carry on like this much longer, when his knight in shining purple armour dropped in. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and gave him a cautious but genuine smile.
“Fancy seeing you here, Hood. Thought you only patrolled further downtown?”
“Ah, well, you know how it is. Maniacs to distract and all that.” He replied, gesturing at his assailant, who had paused in curiosity at the new addition. Batgirl noticed his shoulder and winced theatrically in sympathy.
“That looks sore. I’ll fix you up in a sec, not to worry.” She winked at him, before backing further into the aggressive stance she had been in from the start, despite her bright, casual tone.
“You’re one of Black Mask’s, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and the ice in Batgirl’s tone made Jason wonder just what had happened there. The figure in black nodded once in response.
“Well. Hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked!” She beamed briefly, before jumping into the air and unleashing a series of flips and kicks that would have put Dick Grayson to shame. Except he was- yeah, not something he liked thinking about. Although it was kind of refreshing, knowing he wasn’t the only Robin to fail quite that badly. But there’d been another one, hadn’t there? Black Mask had killed a Robin, he felt sure. It was all Bruce’s fault, anyway. Getting people killed.  And wow, since when had he been lying on the floor? It was quite nice down here, he decided. He couldn’t see the stars, of course. The amount of light pollution in Gotham was ridiculous. It was really comfy though.
He was almost asleep when Batgirl’s concerned looking head appeared in his field of vision, and attempted to take his helmet off. Rude. Graciously deciding to unclick the safety, he gasped somewhat involuntarily as she tugged it off and the cold Gotham night air hit his face.
“What is it about Gotham that makes it cold enough to freeze your ass off every night?” Batgirl seemed relieved at his words, and he realized he must be fairly out of it due to the blood loss. The blood loss coming from the wound caused by the assassin in black- Jason started up suddenly, biting back a hiss as he jolted the bullet wound in his shoulder, staring around nervously.
“Oh, don’t worry. I took care of ‘em.” Jason noticed a smudge of blood on her chin. It doesn’t look like it was hers.
“Took care of them or took care of them?” Batgirl laughed, grimly.
“They’ll live, don’t worry. Not that it really bothers you, from what I hear.” Jason rolled his eyes. Were they seriously doing the whole conflicting moralities thing now, while he was bleeding out on a fucking rooftop? But then, she surprised him.
“I understand, you know. I do. Don’t agree with you, but well. I mean, you and I are basically in the same boat anyway. Scumbag dad, issues with B, all that? Also, dying as Robin and coming back, there’s that.” Jason’s eyes widened. Before he could ask any questions, Batgirl continued, getting more and more agitated.
“I mean, in some ways you even had it better! At least your dad was a small-time crook rather than an actual supervillain. And you were actually, properly Robin. Because he chose you for you, and not because he wanted to guilt trip your misogynistic ex into coming back and doing it for you because he thinks you can’t cope and then got you killed, just to top it all off.” She paused, red in the face and on the verge of tears and Jason could totally, totally sympathize but he was bleeding out on a cold as fuck rooftop and he’d really appreciate it if they could continue this conversation when he was less light headed and more able to take notes on who he needs to beat the shit out of. Sounds like a long list. Sounds like it’ll be fun. He’ll do it with her, it’s great therapy. He knows from experience.
“Uh, Batgirl? I hate to interrupt, but I’m kind of in danger of dying here?”
“What? Oh God, sorry! I got sidetracked, sorry! This always happens- you’re not going to need a transfusion, thankfully, but I need to sew you up, so… your place or mine?” She winked, overly flirtatiously. Jason groaned.
“Stop, you’re worse than-” They both froze. Dick Grayson’s death was still a fresh wound in all of their minds, even Jason’s, not that he’d admit it. Even the demon brat wasn’t taking it well, from what he heard. Although, that wasn’t much of a surprise; Dickie had been the Batman to his Robin, after all. Jason couldn’t even imagine what young-him would have felt if Bruce had died while he’d been Robin. Batgirl- Stephanie, he remembered through the increasing fog in his head- coughed awkwardly.
“Yes, anyway, I’m assuming you don’t want much to do with B at the moment, understandably. I’ll take you to your nearest safe house, if you point the way.” She smiled, and Jason could tell that this was hard for her, trusting him enough to go to one of his safe houses willingly. He didn’t have the greatest track record, after all. He understood.
“Thanks, Stephanie.” Her eyes widened, and she laughed.
“No names in the field, doofus! And it’s Steph.” Jason smiled.
“Whatever you say, Batgirl. My nearest safe house is a few alleys away, take a left...”

In all honesty, Dick was beginning to wonder if he’d thought this through well enough. Once his initial anger had cooled off, he realized that he hadn’t even thought to bring any cash with him, yet alone anything near the amount he would need to rent a hotel room, for example. It was getting cold, and honestly, what was it about Gotham that made it cold enough to freeze your butt off every night? As Robin, his bare legs had only been saved by the thermal skin colour tights Bruce insisted he wear. Not that he had complained, exactly. He had tried one night without them and almost got hypothermia. B hadn’t liked that. He prefers to have his soldiers in perfect condition, he thought to himself grumpily. Knowing his way around the city blindfolded had its perks, and it took almost no time at all for him to find a small alleyway he could sleep in practically unnoticed. Eternally thankful that he had had the foresight to pack a good, warm blanket, Dick hid away in the dark corner of the street, shrinking even further back and holding his breath as he heard the shadow of the Bat swoop past him. Probably going on patrol. He probably hadn’t even realized he was gone. Although- where was he headed? He seemed to be aiming for Haley’s circus. It was a good thing Dick had decided against going back there. He loved Pop Haley, loved all of them, but they all thought they knew what was best for him. Just like Bruce. And he was fed up with it. Shaking his head, and trying not to think about how much he missed Alfred and Bruce already, Dick tried to sleep on the cold pavement.

This was Gotham, of course, and it was only a matter of time before Dick Grayson found himself in the middle of a robbery. Not that he was the one robbing, obviously. It had been around a week since he had fled the manor, and he was running low on food and fresh clothes. It was evening, time for patrol, Dick thought bitterly. He was in the rich district of town, mainly due to the fact that he knew the Batman usually only came here rarely, as a formality. This area was never very crime-infested; by Gotham standards at least. Wearing a ratty old red hoodie that was a bit too big for him and had belonged to an old friend at the circus and his favourite pair of jeans, Dick supposed he looked like all the other street urchins that filled the Gotham streets. It was a good thing he was a bit more skilled than most of them, though, when he witnessed an old lady he had seen a few of Bruce’s charity galas being mugged by a weirdo in gold armour. Only in Gotham.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have it! I just dropped it off at the museum!”
“Sure thing lady, sure thing. For some reason, I don’t really believe you.”
Jumping headfirst into danger was Dick’s thing. He had become a vigilante at the grand age of 9. He didn’t even have to think about it.
“You might want to leave the lady alone, mister.” The gold armoured man whipped his head around to see the little boy in the red hoodie and ripped jeans. He snorted.
“Do you really think you can stop me? That’s precious.” Dick shrugged.
“Not really.” He grinned. “I know I can stop you.”
The man swung his laser around so that Dick was staring right down the muzzle.
“It’s only a matter of time until I win, I’m afraid.”
Now, if Dick knows his supervillains correctly- and he’s basically an expert on that field by now- that was some kind of corny reference to his gimmick. All supervillains have a gimmick, after all.
Managing to jump out of the way of the gun with ease, he lands a kick and two punches in quick succession on the unexpecting man’s face. The man stumbles back with a startled expression on his face. Using his confusion to his advantage, Dick relaunched his attack with gusto, barely giving the man a chance to defend himself as he pummelled him to the ground. It’s not until he reaches for the zip ties in his utility belt that he remembers that he doesn’t have a utility belt any more, that he’s not Robin anymore and the woman he just saved is probably equally scared of him as she was of her assailant. Glancing over to her, he saw the fear in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Do you have anything I can tie him up with?”
“I-I have a spare pair of shoelaces in my bag?” He smiled at her encouragingly.
“Perfect. Can you pass them to me?” Nodding nervously, she reached into her purse and pulled them out. She looked about to pass out; Dick took pity on her and stood up to take them from her rather than have her walk towards him. This was a big mistake, as he realized when the man he had believed to be unconscious from his attack turned out to have been faking it and reached out for his weapon as soon as Dick turned his back.
“Look out, b-behind you!” The lady’s warning came a split second too late, and Dick whirled around to see a blast of energy emitted from the gun hit him in the face. He never stood a chance.

It was totally not Jason’s fault. Ok, so Batgirl- Steph- had brought him to his safe house, as promised. And promptly dumped him, right after sewing up his shoulder and telling him sternly to not go outside looking for trouble again because what is the point even,to finish her patrol. So, when there was a huge energy flare in the rich district on the opposite side of town from where she was patrolling, and he literally saw it out of his window, he did the only sensible thing he could do under the circumstances. He went to see what it was.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, exactly. In fact, it was rather evident that he hadn’t really thought about what could be the cause of the energy flare, because if he had, he probably wouldn’t have decided to go poke at it with a metaphorical stick, what with an injured shoulder and a generally very exhausted body from being chased across Gotham a few hours earlier. But then, who knew. Jason Todd wasn’t exactly overly renowned for his expert tactical thinking and ability to not run into things blind. What he definitely hadn’t been expecting, however, was a terrified looking kid in a red hoodie. The kid looked like he was one of the many Gotham street urchins B was trying to cram into orphanages. If there was one thing Jason understood, it was being young, scared, homeless and forced to deal with masked vigilantes. It sucked. Voluntarily removing his helmet for the second time that night, Jason questioned his life choices.
“Hey, kid. You okay? Look, I know you probably know me as a bad guy, but I promise I won’t hurt you, alright? I just need to know what happened with the energy flare just now. What did you see?” But the kid just glared at him.
“Who are you and why would I know you as a bad guy?” He had a fairly heavy accent, quite Eastern sounding. The kid was standing in defensive stance that set off faint alarm bells in his head. This kid knows what he’s doing.
“I’m the Red Hood. I’m not really a bad guy, strictly speaking. But I’m not really a good guy either. Like Catwoman, you know?”
Had Jason really just compared himself to Selina? What was his life?
The kid’s eyes narrowed.
“I’ve never heard of you. Do you work with Batman?” Jason’s eyebrow jumped. This kid was direct, to say the least.
“Sure, occasionally. Haven’t for a while though.” And that was, apparently, all the kid needed to go completely batshit insane.
Heh. Batshit.
“Liar! Batman’s never worked with you before!”
And sweet Jesus, that kid could move for a preteen. Seriously, the only person he knew who was able to move like that at that age is not only a lot older, but also a lot dead.
Unless-
There was no way, but maybe-
“Dick?”
And just like that, the kid froze.
Shit.
Jason really couldn’t deal with this headache right now. In a hissed whisper that was both parts terrified and angry, the boy replied,
“How do you know my name?” Suddenly, mini-Dick looked determined.
“Did he send you? Because I won’t go back.” The way he puffed his chest out, hands on his hips- you could tell the kid was used to wearing a cape that would flutter dramatically in the wind. Jason was officially way, way too sober for this.

It had been a week, but Bruce refused to give up hope. Even if he could live with himself afterwards, the disapproving glares Alfred had been sending him every time they occupied the same room were proof enough of how important Dick Grayson was to both of them. They had gone over the letter over and over for clues, but no luck. The small note was only a few lines long, but it was enough to break Bruce’s heart.

Dear Alfred,
I’m sorry about all of this. I don’t want to get in the way, and as I’m not wanted as Robin any more, I can’t help feeling not wanted as Dick Grayson. I am Robin. Robin is me, and I am not going to be someone I’m not. I did my best, but my best wasn’t good enough and I’m glad I know that now. Thank you for making me feel at home, even if it wasn’t for long.  Please don’t come looking for me.
R

Alfred had been telling him to go easier on him, but Bruce couldn’t. If Bruce wasn’t thorough enough, didn’t discipline him well enough, some bad guy could get lucky and Bruce would have lost even more of his family to this endless crusade. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lose anyone else. He had thought that Robin understood that. But of course he didn’t, he was a child! Children need love and attention and all those things Bruce has never been any good at giving. He couldn’t blame Dick for any of this. It was entirely his own fault, and Bruce had no idea how to deal with it. Bruce was terrible at any- and everything to do with emotions, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to use that as an excuse again this time. Bruce needed to make this right, and he needed to do it as soon as possible. So he patrolled extra hours in Gotham, doing his best to scope out the quiet, dark corners his partner could be hiding in. And he had been having very little success (read: none), until he happened upon a curious energy spike in the richer district. He didn’t patrol there often, it was usually reasonably crime-free; and Robin knew that as well. Moving towards the source of the energy flare as fast as possible, he soon saw a fairly odd scene; an old lady who seemed vaguely familiar hitting a man in golden armour on the head repeatedly with a handbag. Only in Gotham. Approaching in his trademark silence, Batman surprised both of them with a growled “What happened here?”
The lady frowned in disgust. “This horrid man assaulted me.” Batman nodded, and knocked the man unconscious with a well aimed blow to the solar plexus.
“There, you should be safe now, ma’am. There was an energy spike originating here approximately 5 minutes ago, do you have any idea what might have caused it?”
The lady sighed sadly. “I was terribly shocked when the assault began, understandably so in my opinion. I was incapable of protecting myself, but a young street urchin gave me assistance.”
Dick. It had to be.
“Did he have black hair, blue eyes?”
“Yes, and he was short, wiry. Wearing an enormous red sweater; he didn’t look like he would stand a chance. But he took this vile man down, and was about to tie the man’s hands and feet when the man freed himself and shot the child with his gun. He was disintegrated.”
No. Not Dick, he couldn’t be gone, he couldn’t-
“His gun is over there, maybe that could help you bring this horrid creature to justice. Also, please inform me if you manage to identify the boy; I would gladly reward his loved ones for his heroic act, as I cannot reward him in person.”
A meaningless robbery had taken his family from him, again. But at least this time he knew who was responsible, and he would make him pay-
Mentally shaking himself, Bruce became Batman once more as he nodded his acknowledgement and left the woman, taking the gun for examination. He would come back for the man later.

After explaining to the mini-Dick- that sounded weird, didn’t it- that no, he was not helping Batman, no, Batman wasn’t around, no, he didn’t know why either, and laughing his ass off over the fact that Dick, Dick, Mr. Perfect, golden boy, Batman’s number 1 bitch, was fighting with Bruce, he had to try and coax him into coming into one of his safe houses with him. Easier said than done, the kid was a sceptical son of a bitch. He had tried every manoeuvre in the fucking book short of hitting the kid upside the head and dragging him. He sighed. This was gonna take some outside help. He pulled out his phone, and if his suspicions were correct- and they were, of course, well done him, Stephanie had saved her number in his phone. Under Dead Robin No. 2. Heh. They should start a club. Holding out a finger to quieten the curious look he received from the kid, he dialled the number and waited for it to go through. He put his hand over the microphone and mouthed ‘Batgirl’ at mini-Dick. Mini-Dick seemed confused.
“Jason! Fancy hearing from you! How many stitches have you pulled?”
“Well- two or three, but that’s not why I called.”
“I guessed not. Could it have something to do with the fact that you’re not in your safe house getting rest like I asked you to?”
“Um- maybe?”
“Whatever Jay, it’s your body you’re covering with gross, unnecessary scars. I’m assuming you went after the energy spike? Or did you see a car you felt like chasing?”
“What’s to say it wasn’t both?”
“Well,” Stephanie began, and suddenly there was a whooshing noise and she was right in front of him, “I am fairly good at guessing.” She hung up her phone.
Jason rolled his eyes.
“Oh my God, who do you think you are, Harley Quinn? Stop being so overly dramatic, jeez.”
Stephanie sighed dreamily.
“I wish, man. Those thighs...”
“I agree completely, but we have more pressing matters to deal with.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow.
“More pressing matters than Harley’s thighs? I doubt it.” Jason grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face the kid, who had been watching their exchange with confusion.
“Batgirl, meet Dick Grayson, aged 10. Ex-Robin. Dick, meet Batgirl.”
Stephanie blinked. Dick blinked back. Stephanie blinked twice.
“Ok either there’s some Morse code shit going on here or I probably need to explain.”
Jason hated explaining.
“Basically, from what I can gather, this energy spike was some kind of temporal energy, if that is even a thing, and it sent young Dickie Grayson here over 10 years into the future. He’s just had a big fight with the Big Bad Bat and quit being Robin altogether. And run away from the manor. So now, we’ve got to make sure he doesn’t get hurt until B comes and flips his shit, like we all know he will. And no, I’m not sure if I’m talking about past B or current B.”
Stephanie and Dick blinked at him.
“That was a dreadful explanation.” Steph deadpanned, at the same time Dick muttered, “That was so unhelpful.” Steph beamed, and leant in for a high five. Dick flinched back. Determined to make this slightly less of a train wreck than it already was, Jason grinned his slightly deranged, overlarge, I’m-about-to-do-something-dumb grin.
“So, shall we go home?”
“No.”

Chapter Text

 It was 2 in the afternoon, Bruce had been working for 10 hours straight and he was finally getting somewhere. He had disassembled the gun that had been used on Dickmeticulously, taking care to not damage any part of the incredibly complex machinery. This thing was incredible; he had never seen anything so advanced. The power source appeared to be integrated into the computer chip he assumed controlled the device. It took him the best part of two hours, but he succeeded in hacking into the technology and sat, not quite believing what he was seeing. Alfred entered the cave, somewhat more hurried than usual, not that anyone other than the most trained eye could tell. Noticing Bruce’s expression he asked, “Any luck, Master Bruce?” Bruce looked up at him. 

“Dick wasn’t disintegrated, Alfred. He was sent through time.”

 It took a lot of coercion, persuasion and bribes, but Jason eventually managed to get Dick and Stephanie in one of his safe houses. It was a 5^th floor apartment in a dingy side of town where nobody asked any questions, ideal for his purposes. Neither of them seemed very impressed.

“I think this is the ugliest place I’ve ever been, and I’ve been sleeping on the street for the last week.”

“Gotta agree with the kid, Jase. You really ought to make this place nicer. A splash of purple-“

“It needs more elephants.” Dick said emphatically. Steph clicked her fingers.

“Purple elephants. That’d be amazing!” Jason frowned, as though in deep thought.

“Do you think? I felt that the distinct lack of purple elephants was a nice bonus, myself.”

Steph gasped in outrage.

“Blasphemer!” Jason rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

"Everyone's a critic..."

Picking up his phone and a packet of cigarettes, he wandered outside. 

“I’ll be back soon, don’t wait up!” Stephanie rolled her eyes. 

“You realize nobody finds smoking cool anymore, right?” she yelled after him, then turned to Dick, who was looking around with wide eyes. 

“Alrighty then, how about we find out where a shower is, because I don’t know how to tell you this but you seriously, seriously need one, and then we find a laptop and watch TV all night? I’ll try and find some food!” Dick’s eyes had gone wide at the mention of food.

“Sound good? Ok, c’mon then!”

Standing on the balcony, Jason’s thumb was hovering over the call button as he took a last deep suck on the cig in his mouth as mental support and pressed down. He held the phone to his ear, hoping he was making the right decision.

“Wayne residence?”

“Hi, Alfred? It’s me, Jason.”

“I know, Master Jason. How are you?” Jason chuckled.

“I’m good, Alfie. Same old, same old. I actually- um, I have a favour to ask.”

“Do you require Master Bruce, then?”

“Oh, no, it’s gotta be you Alfred- this is really hard to explain, but something’s happened and I’ve got someone at one of my safe houses who could really use seeing a familiar face right now, and you’re as familiar as they come. I can’t- I can’t explain it any better than that, just would you please- would you please come?” Jason’s hand tightened on the phone. He was so bad at this, of course Alfred wouldn’t come, why would he- Jason’s done nothing but screw up, it’s not like he’d trust him or anythi-

“Of course, Master Jason. Can you give me the address? I assume I am not to inform any of the others of this?”

“N-No, please don’t tell anyone, Alfred, thank you!” Jason almost laughed at himself. He sounded like an embarrassed kid. Jason gave Alfred the address.

 “Now that you’ve succeeded in unlocking the device, will you be able to rescue Master Dick?”

Alfred’s voice, professional as ever, held a barely concealed note of hope. Bruce growled. 

“Ordinarily, yes. But when he shot him, he had a randomizer set to the device.” Bruce swung around, facing Alfred with a lost expression he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. 

“Dick could be anywhere in time and I have no idea where or how to get him back. The only thing I have managed to determine is that he was sent to the future, rather than the past.” 

Bruce’s fist smashed on the desk with a ferocity that almost made Alfred jump. 

“I can’t do anything, Alfred. I can’t save him.”

“Well then, Master Bruce,” Alfred began, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

“We’ll have to wait for Master Dick to save himself.”

 When Jason returned to the flat, he was somewhat surprised to see Steph and Dick curled up in a nest of the ugly, threadbare cushions and blankets and watching cartoons. Not very surprised, though.

“What are we watching, then?” Steph shushed him instantly.

“Gravity Falls. Stephanie says it’s good,” comes Dick’s voice from somewhere amongst the upholstery. Jason can’t quite figure out where his face is.

“It’s not good, Dick, it’s great! Brilliant! Amazing! The amount of time and thought that goes into-“

“All right, all right, I get the picture. Did you look for any food?”

At this, mini-Dick’s head popped out of the blanket fort and pouted at him accusingly.

“Yes and there’s nothing and I’m really hungry and-“

The doorbell rang. Everyone but Jason froze. He stood up, smirking.

“I’ll be right back.”

Alfred stood on the doorstep, impeccably dressed as ever and carrying Tupperware tubs with positively gorgeous looking food in.

“Alfred, you are doing the Lord’s work.”  

“Glad to help out when I can, sir,” came the reply without missing a beat. 

Jason ushered him in and put the food in the microwave. 

“Right, before you go and meet the person I brought you here for- well, you’ve probably already experienced it in real time, so it shouldn’t be a huge surprise. Hang on, that makes no sense. Never mind. Anyway, if you’d just come through here...“

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss, Master Jason, I assure you-“

“Alfred?” 

The butler froze stock still. Turned his head towards the little boy in the blankets with Miss Stephanie, the little boy he hadn’t seen for years. 

“Master Dick?”

 And as if a spell had been broken, Dick scrambled up and ran into Alfred’s waiting arms.

After a lengthy explanation on Alfred’s part, and some of said butler’s food, Dick seems a lot happier to open up to Jason and Steph, even if he refuses to go to the manor and even so much as talk to Bruce, despite their insistences. He’s not Robin and he doesn’t owe Bruce Wayne anything, especially not a Bruce 10 years in the future. While Jason can’t fault the kid’s logic, and Stephanie finds it hard not to agree, there is the matter of having the equipment to send him back. Not having Bruce Wayne’s financial play room was going to make this pretty difficult. Not having Batman’s objectiveness? Also an issue. They both missed Dick Grayson, in their own ways. And here he was, tiny and full of laughs and puns and just- impossible not to love. The kid didn’t want to go home, and they didn’t really want him to either, but in order to avoid a giant paradox or some other dumb time shit they had to make sure Dick Grayson returned to Gotham city, reclaimed the mantle of Robin and paved the way for all the rest of them. Steph suggested a passive-aggressive tactic: forcing Dick to sit through the whole Back to the Future series. Jason was fairly certain that that would be useless. Also, he was around 99% certain that Dick “I’m-secretly-a-monkey” Grayson would not be able to sit still and watch even the first film without climbing the walls. Literally.

“Whatcha doin?” 

Biting down a curse, Jason span around from his seat at the kitchen table to see Dick perched on top of the fridge, watching him. 

“Holy God kid, don’t sneak up on me like that! I’m cleaning my weapons, which you really shouldn’t be touching put that down please thank you” Honestly, Jason had never been quite this close to a heart attack before, he was sure. 

Dick yawned. 

“I’m bored, can we go outside? Steph’s been telling me about this thing called rooftop tag which sounds amazing, but she has boring University stuff to do.” 

“’Fraid not, kiddo. You don’t want B to recognize you, remember? Considering they call him the World’s Greatest Detective, he’ll probably be able to figure that the kid wisecracking and doing quadruple somersaults like it’s nothing is none other than the kid he adopted, you know?” 

“He never adopted me. I’m just his ward.” Dick grumbled. 

“And that changes my point how?” 

“Shut up.”
Jason sighed and returned to his weapon cleaning.

“Are you sure I can’t go out?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Dick whooped in delight as he cart wheeled across a rooftop in downtown Gotham. 

“How did I let you talk me into taking you along again?” Jason was seriously sore from last night, still. Getting shot will do that to you. 

“Come on, Jay, you know you love it! You’re just jealous because you couldn’t keep up in rooftop tag.” 

“I totally could! I was letting you win to help your young, fragile ego-“

“Oh yeah? Well in that case- tag!”

And with that, Dick was off like a bat from hell. Jason really needed to stop with the bat metaphors. He also needed to stop Dick, as he was running straight off into Bat territory.

“D-Kid!”

Did they ever agree on a codename for him? He was on strict orders to not fight, so they’d dressed him up in the best black gear they could find. When the subject of codenames arose, Dick had told them, completely seriously, that he had been thinking of an alternate name that was ’really really cool’, so Jason and Steph had agreed to go with that. Until he revealed that said cool alternate codename was, in fact, Nightwing. Of course it was. It was simultaneously really funny and really- not. After a long and confusing conversation where they somehow managed to explain that he couldn’t use the name without having to tell him about future events concerning him, because they were fairly sure that that could be dangerous, Steph left for her apartment to try and get a bit of sleep before classes tomorrow, promising to try and bring Cass next time. Noticing how crestfallen Dick seemed at her leaving, she consoled him with a hug and a promise to spend more time with him at the weekend. But codenames were never established. Damnit. Jason jumped after him, realizing the kid was only going to go further into B’s territory if he didn’t manage to get his attention right now-

“For fuck’s sake- Robin!”

Jason’s Batman voice had always been pretty good, he thought to himself as Dick instantly froze and began to slink back towards him. But of course, there was nothing life liked to do more than come and bite him in the shithole and the familiarsound of a grappling gun announced the approach of his doom.

“Fuck my life-“ Why did this always happen to him? Why? What had he done to deserve this?

“Don’t swear, Jay. Swearing’s for losers.” Baby-Dick told him sternly, right as the World’s Greatest Detective himself arrived, directly behind him. Baby-Dick turned around.

“Oh, shit.”

Jason snorted. Oh, shit indeed.

“Red Hood. What are you doing here?”

Bruce’s gravelly tone demanded answers and a small part of him that sounded very much like the little Robin who had died at the Joker’s hand wanted to give them to him. He didn’t like that part of him.

“It’s a free country, B-Man. You don’t hold the monopoly on Gotham vigilantism, you know.”

Jason carefully chose the tone of voice he knew would piss Bruce off. It had taken him years to perfect it; he was very proud of it. It had driven Dick insane too- apparently some things never changed, as baby-Dick gave a barely-detectable flinch that, regrettably, brought the full attention of the Batman down on him. Jason crossed his fingers behind his back as B tilted his head, analysing the little boy in black who was clearly trying not to squirm. Honestly, this kid was ridiculous. 

“Is he holding you here against your will? I can help you.” 

Of all the things Jason had been expecting, it had not been that. God, he hated Bruce.

“Excuse me? B, you know I’d never hurt a child-“

“You almost killed Red Robin.” Jason growled.

“That was different.” And with that, just because his day couldn’t get any better, the Demon Child himself decided to pop by for a visit.

“I examined the building, as per your request. Five thugs, hardly of consequence. Taking them out was easy.”

“I told you to wait for me there, Robin. You should know better than to run in-“

“Robin?”

Dick’s voice was thin, conveying so much confusion and hurt that Jason could almost feel his heart breaking. Assuming he still had one.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Jason and Steph had been skirting around the whole ‘we were both Robin after you’ thing, trying to avoid messing with the time flow or whatever. If he was being perfectly honest, Jason had been pretty nervous about what Dick’s reaction would be, as well. He hadn’t taken to Jason as his replacement too kindly, at least at the beginning, and that had been when he had given up the mantle of Robin by himself and, for all intents and purposes, moved on. No matter what their resident 10 year old had been saying about not being Robin any more, it was fairly clear that he was in no way prepared to give it up to anyone else. The demon child looked down his nose at him imperiously. Once an Al Ghul, always an Al Ghul, Jason supposed.

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Jason groaned. How could someone be so ready to fight, all the time?
Bruce had frozen, wasn’t moving at all. There went their chances of keeping this hushed up.

“Yes there’s a problem. You’re using my name and wearing my colours!” Bruce’s hand shot out to grab the demon’s hood before he could throw himself at mini-Dick. Unfortunately, Jason either had worse reflexes (likely), or Dick was better at twisting out of the way (also fairly likely), because Dick was on top of Damian in seconds flat.

“You- how dare you- it’s mine!” Dick’s speech deteriorated into what sounded like rapid fire insults in a language Jason wasn’t familiar with. Romani, he supposed. Dick was angry, frustrated and not holding back. Regrettably, neither did Damian as soon as he began retaliating, which led to the beginning of sore looking bruises on either side before Bruce managed to tear them apart.

“Both of you. Stop.”

Following Batman’s orders was such an ingrained part of every Robin that even Jason, who had been about to kick back and enjoy the show, froze and had to fight to resist snapping to attention. Like a good little soldier, he thought bitterly.

“Father. Why is this child delusional?” Damian sniffed at Dick contemptuously, a look slightly spoiled by the beginnings of a black eye forming from a well-aimed punch of Dick’s. Dick’s eyes went wide. Jason snorted.

“He’s literally not even a year younger than you, Little-“

“Don’t call me that. Only G- Nobody can call me that.” Bruce gripped Damian’s shoulder tightly, in the official Wayne-brand show of comfort. That was the equivalent of a bear hug, in Bruce Wayne’s terms. B’s eyes never left baby-Dick’s small form.

“Robin?”

Jason’s smile was all teeth and sharp edges.

“Gonna have to be a bit more specific there, B.” Bruce didn’t even honour him with a glare.

“Dick?”

 Bruce’s voice was soft, too soft for the Batman and it felt all kinds of wrong. Damian tensed. Dick sniffled dejectedly, and glared.

“Glad you remembered. You know, I thought when I went to stay with you that I’d be able to make a difference. Apparently, I didn’t even make a difference enough for you not to replace me with the nearest asshole kid you could find!”

Jason had never thought he’d see the day that anyone’d be able to hurt both Waynes, Senior and Junior, with words alone. In all honesty, he’d been expecting it to be funnier.

“Kid, I’m not sure you understand-“ Dick whipped around to glare at him and it had been a long time since Jason had been at the receiving end of that particular Grayson Glare ™. It had, admittedly, been more effective when said Grayson was both taller and older than him, even if he had been in that ridiculous stripper outfit. It was still fairly impressive, though.

“Don’t think I haven’t figured out that you used to be partners with him too. Why does everyone treat me like I’m stupid? You move the same, look the same, even act the same!” Jason growled.

“Don’t ever compare me to him.”

Dick’s stiff upper lip was getting increasingly easy to see through, and before either Batman or the Red Hood could reach him, Dick Grayson had lost himself in the shadows the way only the Bats can.

Well, fuck.