Chapter Text
1.
Tim didn't really remember what happened last night. It was all blurry in his mind. And he wished he did, because maybe his memories would explain why he woke up with no idea where he was. More importantly, are those guns on the walls?
"Morning Replacement." A familiar (and slightly traumatic if he's being honest) voice spoke up. "Want to explain what you were thinking?"
Tim didn't answer (how could he? He didn't even know what had happened?), instead choosing to sit up and take in his surroundings. The guns were a dead give away. Not to mention the smell of cigarettes and the clear unease Tim felt at his surroundings. Yeah. He was screwed. His ribs twinged (probably bruised, if not broken) and his head throbbed (concussion, probably short term amnesia).
"Jason?" He had to ask, even though it seemed obvious. This had to be a dream. Jason wanted to kill him. Straight up murder. Not wrap his broken ribs and let him crash on his old couch that smells like cigarettes. "What happened?"
"That's what I want to know!" Jason snapped. "You show up in Crime Alley half concious and spout some bull about how I need to come home!"
There were two options here. Tim had been seriously injured and concussed and decided it would be a good idea to come to Jason in his hour of need, or was drunk and got into a bar fight that he lost. Both are equally likely at this point. Tim's leaning more towards the bar fight.
"Did I really?" Tim groaned. Why was the light so bright. His head throbbed almost in reply. Right. Probable concussion. "I'm sorry, I should have just gone home."
"Why didn't you?" Jason asked. "Alfred would have been happy to patch you up."
"What?" Tim frowned. "Why would Alfred be there?"
"Does Alfred not hang out at the Manor anymore?" Jason asked.
"He does but I don't." Tim sat up and tried to steady himself. He felt dizzy and he hated not knowing what had happened last night.
Jason had been talking, ranting actually, and Tim only caught the tail end of it. "-re like twelve!"
"I'm sixteen!" Tim argued.
"That doesn't explain why you aren't living at the Manor! You're still a kid!"
"I'm emancipated, so I'm legally an adult." Tim grinned. "Thanks for patching me up and, you know, not murdering me in my sleep. It means a lot."
Jason frowned. "Hold up you aren't going anywhere-"
Tim was already halfway to the window. Being around Jason was making Tim tense and he had to get out of there. For all he knew it was Jason that he got into a probable bat fight with. As he was about to grapple away and hand clamped around his upper arm and hauled him back into the room.
"First of all," Jason glared at him and Tim resisted the urge to flinch. It didn't help that there were guns everywhere and Jason could shoot Tim at any time. "If you're going anywhere it's going to be the Manor. The last thing we need is another dead Robin."
"I'm not Robin!" Tim argued.
"Red Robin. Whatever. Same difference." Jason shrugged. "Second. You aren't swinging anywhere. You have a concussion."
"Try and stop me!" Tim snapped.
"I already did." Jason plucked the grapple from Tim's hand. "Call a cab or something."
"I'm in my gear."
"Then take the bus."
"Jason." Tim groaned. "I'm fine. I can swing home just fine."
"You mean swing to the Manor." Jason reiterated.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Tim snatched his grapple back and started out the window again. "Since when did you care?"
"Since you showed up in my area of Gotham half dead." Jason deadpanned. "If you had died everyone would have blamed me. Now go to the Manor."
"You can't tell me what to do. You aren't my dad."
"I can call Dick."
"Dick can't control me. In fact, at this point if he told me to do something I'd probably do the exact opposite." There was a glint of something in Jason's eye. Curiosity maybe?
"I'll tell Bruce then."
"Yeah, right." Tim said dryly. "You haven't spoken to Bruce in forever, and I doubt you're going to hash out all if your issues over little old me."
"Only if you're dying." Jason replied, voice just as dry. Tim rolled his eyes, shooting his grapple.
"Bye Jason."
It wasn't until later that Tim realized exactly what Jason had said. Tim had seen the family without Jason, it wasn't the same. Even when Jason was murdering people it was clear how much Bruce loved and missed him. The family needed Jason. A lot more than they needed Tim. Jason would help Damian so much if they could get along, they could be so good for each other. Dick could finally stop feeling guilty over everything that happened before Jason died. Bruce could become more like his old self, something Tim never quite managed.
Jason was everything this family needed right now.
'Only if you're dying' Jason had said. It made sense. Sure he had been joking, but Tim had no doubt that if he was injured enough, Jason would call Bruce and things would be better.
Besides. He would be careful, it's not like he was actually trying to kill himself. This is what would be best for everyone. Tim wasn't going to actually die, and if he did, his life for Jason's would be worth it.
But it wouldn't come to that. Tim wouldn't let it. But if it did (even though it wouldn't), if Bruce could handle losing anyone it would be Tim. He had forced his way into the family anyways. The only reason he had become a part of the family was to save Batman, and now he had a chance. Someone just had to start a conversation, and now Tim knew how to make it happen.
Tim would plan, extensively. He wasn't going to needlessly throw himself into danger. It was for a good cause. Who cares if Tim still wasn't convinced Jason was going to kill him? Tim needs to do what's best for the family.
So Tim planned. Extensively.