Archive of Our Own

Robin finds Nightwing staring at the case with Batman’s tattered cape and cowl. He knows what has to happen, but he doesn’t know how to make it happen. Robin always has a plan. Right now, he doesn’t. He has nothing.

“It has to be one of us, Nightwing,” Robin says. That’s inaccurate, though. Or at least, inexact.

Robin doesn’t belong, so he can’t just lead the bats. And besides, right now, he’s useless and weak and—and scared. Robin is terrified of what’s going to happen next, and Batman can’t be scared.

Red Hood can’t be Batman. He’s out of control. Dangerous.

Oracle is brilliant, but she can’t wear the Batman cowl and beat up criminals.

And Damian is ten years old. Batman can’t be a child.

Which leaves Nightwing. Dick used to want to be Batman, even if now he’s disillusioned with the cowl. He believes in the Mission. And, most importantly, Dick loves his family and will do anything to protect them.

“We’ve gone over this, Robin,” Nightwing says.

“Well,” Robin announces, “I’ve got a newsflash. Someone else has beaten us to it!”

“I’ve read the news. Fed-up citizens playing dress-up hero is nothing new. We’ll deal with it.”

Robin lets out a frustrated huff. “Nightwing. He uses batarangs, a bat-rope…he’s got our supplies and he knows how to use them!” He steps forward and stares directly at Nightwing’s forehead. “This is a problem.”

Nightwing sighs. “No. There is only one Batman, and now he’s dead.” He reaches out tentatively. Tim longs for a warm, steady hand on his shoulder—or better yet, for Dick to pull him into a hug. Still, he can’t help but flinch away. Nightwing withdraws his hand. Tim wishes he find the words to tell Dick that it’s not his fault. Surely, though, Dick already knows. They both had the same mentor. “I can’t be Batman.”

“Yes, you can,” Robin says. “You have to.”

Nightwing shakes his head, turns around, and leaves.

Tim stares at the row of Batman costumes, feeling like his layers of Kevlar and brightly-colored fabric have been stripped away. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Tim knows what needs to happen. He knows this new fake Batman must be defeated. And he knows that Dick must take up the Batman mantle and protect Gotham.

Dick can put on the cowl without getting lost in the shadows. He’s a strong man and his love for the city and his family will help him through. But that means something wonderful and terrible. Wonderful for Gotham…and terrible for Tim. Because if Dick puts on the cowl, he won’t need someone to rein him in, someone to protect Gotham from his anger. Batman won’t need a Robin.

Tim needs Robin. But someone else needs it more. Damian is a threat unless someone gives him a reason not to be. And that reason is Robin. If Tim can see it, Nightwing can see it too. Damian will become Robin and Tim will become…nothing. Tim doesn’t want to be nothing, but that’s just how it is. When Tim stops being useful, he’ll be discarded.

That doesn’t matter, though. Because Tim knows what has to happen.

And now, he thinks he knows how to do it.

Dressed in a tattered Batman suit, Robin lies on the cold stone, teeth clenched as he tries desperately not to scream. He feels the shards of Red Hood’s rusty Batarang shattered in his abdomen. Gasping, Robin reaches for his utility belt, not knowing what he’s going to do but knowing he has to do something, only for Hood’s boot to slam into his chest. Robin bites back the scream, even though he can’t stop himself from shaking in pain. It hurts. It hurts so much. Robin’s had worse pain before, but right now it still really, really hurts.

“Ow,” Robin groans, like he just stubbed his toe.

“Had enough, Replacement?” Hood grins, mouth dripping with blood. The bottom half of his mask has fallen off in the fight. His boot presses harder, Robin’s ribs creaking beneath its force. This time, Robin can’t help the scream that tears itself from his throat. Slowly, Hood removes his boot. Robin doesn’t move. He can’t, right now. Robin blinks back the tears leaking from his eyes, wishing he could reach up to rub them away.

Hood reaches down and rips off Robin’s cowl.

Cold air hits Robin’s face. The tears begin to fall, setting the cuts on his face on fire. He couldn’t even manage to be Robin right. Why did he think he could do this? Tim had just wanted Jason to come home and Dick to become Batman. He had wanted his final act as a sideshow to the family to be useful. But he’s not Batman, will never be Batman. Of course, taking up the mantle—even for one night—would only end in ruin.

But Jason won’t return and Hood is going to kill Robin and Dick is never going to take up the cowl now.

Hood slowly removes his own cowl, revealing a pair of glowing green eyes. He kicks Robin in the ribs and the boy cries out in pain.

“You’re a clockwork soldier. A replacement toy, wound up by the Great and Powerful Batman. Even when he’s gone, you still do his bidding,” Jason sneers. “Fighting me instead of your real enemies.” Robin sobs silently, his chest convulsing and sending pain shooting through him again. Weakly, he raises his left hand to his wound, even though he knows there’s no point in applying pressure. Can’t Jason just finish it already? Robin’s going to die anyway, and he doesn’t want to hear this.

Jason kicks him again.

“You deserve this, Tim.”

The name startles Tim into flinching. He’s not supposed to be Tim right now. He’s Robin. Robin fights for Batman and Gotham. Tim is nothing. He’s not supposed to be Tim.

But Jason’s eyes glow with a fury that strikes Tim deep in his chest. It’s too much. Tim can’t help himself.

“I know,” he whispers.

“Do you now?” Jason crouches down. “You stole my place, Tim. I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

Yeah, he will. His green eyes alone are enough to attest to that.

Jason rocks back onto his heels and stands up, pulling a batarang from his utility belt. His lips curl into a mocking grin. “You know what, Replacement? I’ll give you one chance, one chance to save yourself.” He grasps Tim’s shoulders in a bruising grip and pulls him up. A wave of pain crashes through Tim as Jason slams him against the cave wall. When Tim blinks the darkness away, Jason’s standing right in front of him, eyes glowing the brightest Tim has ever seen.

“Are you listening?” Jason asks. Tim doesn’t know what Jason is going to say. Probably some sort of taunt or some ploy to humiliate Tim before he dies. But Tim is too weak right now to do anything other than nod. Yes, he’s listening. Can Jason just get this over with?

“Join me, Tim,” Jason offers. “Be my Robin.”

And Tim’s heart freezes. That is not what he was expecting.

But it does, in a twisted way, make sense. Because Jason, for whatever reason, is trying to style himself as the Batman. Tim doesn’t get it; Jason hates Batman. But apparently, he also wants to become him? At least he’s not trying to become Bruce too like Thomas Elliot did, that would certainly be something—

Focus, Tim. No getting delirious.                        

In his shock, Tim actually lets himself consider the proposition.

Red Hood is too out of control to be Batman. Nightwing is the only option. Tim had considered this to be clear and evident fact. But Tim has dealt with an out-of-control Batman before and he thinks he did decently well at that, at least.

Jason kills, and Batman doesn’t, but—

Bruce was close to killing too, when Tim became Robin. And Tim knew that if Bruce killed, if he crossed that line, he would never come back to himself. Batman would be over, the city thrown into chaos.

But now, the city’s already in chaos. And Batman is already gone.

Tim took a vow not to kill because that’s what Bruce required of him. Morally—morally, Tim isn’t entirely opposed. Just mostly opposed, and Tim’s own desires and beliefs have always come in second. Jason’s violence is extreme, no doubt about it. He kills far too often, enjoys it, even. But when Tim had first become Robin, Bruce had enjoyed inflicting violence. And if Tim could help Bruce, maybe…

With Robin by his side, Red Hood might actually be a good Batman. He can certainly handle the fear aspect. Meanwhile, Dick wouldn’t have to take up the cowl he resists so strongly. He could remain Nightwing and focus the rest of his energy on helping Damian. This could work.

Tim tries to be logical, but he knows that he is, unfortunately, human. He has the same flaws any other human has. And that means that even if his reasoning seems perfectly sound, Tim is selfish. He runs the risk of simply making a decision based off of what he wants and then justifying it to let himself believe he’s still serving Gotham.

Because Tim has both loved and hated being Robin. Robin is always in pain, a decent amount of it caused by brutal sparring matches and managing Batman’s anger. Robin is constantly exhausted, constantly cancelling his plans and dropping his life by the wayside. Robin has to help Batman keep his control, even if that means presenting himself as an alternative target. But Robin means being around people. Robin means Bruce helping him patch up his wounds if he’s done particularly well and the occasional hug from Dick. Robin means not being quite so alone. If Tim’s original plan worked, he would have lost all of that. But if he doesn’t have to lose it…

He imagines what it would be like, after losing Robin. (Quiet and lonely and empty, so so so empty and Tim screams but no one can hear him and he can’t escape and—) Being alone again will kill him, beat him down until he’s nothing but a husk of the former Timothy Drake.

Joining Jason would probably also kill him, eventually. If Tim thought being Robin under the real Batman hurt, it would definitely hurt even worse to work for a pit-mad Batman with anger issues centered around Robin. But will that pain be worse than the loneliness?

No, of course not.

Tim wants to be Robin. And maybe, in whatever time he has left before Jason gets angry one too many times and offs him or decides (realizes?) that Tim’s just making everything worse, he can be useful. Tim needs to be useful, needs it like breathing.

Tim lets himself slump down, his head hanging. This feels like a betrayal to Batman, who took him in and held off the loneliness like a Dark Knight Gandolf facing down the Balrog—and maybe even cared about him, just a bit. And yet…

Batman had been Tim’s responsibility, but Robin had been Tim’s hero.

Gotham must be protected at all costs. Tim needs to not be alone.

“Okay,” Tim whispers.

“Self-righteous as always, Repla—” Jason’s—Batman’s, now, if Tim’s really going through with this—smirk disappears in an instant as he takes a minute step backwards. “Wait, what?”

Tim slides down against the wall until he’s huddled on the ground. “Okay.” He forces the word out, louder this time. Tim wants this nightmare to end. These past few weeks were only a taste of a future without Batman, but he felt so lost and alone. “I’ll be your—” Tim chokes on the word. He gulps in a breath of air. “I’ll be your Robin.”

“What do you mean?” Batman asks. Maybe it’s just Tim’s wishful thinking, but the green of his eyes looks a tiny bit dimmer. “Is this some sort of—some sort of trick?”

“Well, you did offer.” Tim hopes that offer was genuine, because otherwise this will be extremely embarrassing. Jason will probably laugh at him as he kills him.

And then the green fades away entirely from Jason’s eyes. Tim thinks Batman looks at least a tiny bit lost, but he’s probably projecting.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” Robin promises. “You can be Batman. And I’ll be Robin. Please.” This is it. Tim has made his choice. Now, he lets himself drift away.

Jason feels the Pit recede. It doesn’t fully leave. It never does. But it’s low tide now, and Jason’s staring at a bleeding kid with glazed-over eyes in a Batman uniform. Apparently, a Robin. Jason’s Robin. Because he had asked the boy he was about to kill—the boy he’s tried to kill at least twice now—to join him, and Tim said yes.

He feels numb, the way he always does after he fully gives into the Pit Rage. Now, he moves and speaks mechanically as he helps Tim remove the outer layer of the Batman uniform until it’s just the body armor underneath. There’s a gaping wound there, blood oozing between the pieces of the Batarang still stuck inside. When Jason was cut by one of those things, it was clean. He collapsed, clutching his neck, and the Batarang fell out of the wound with the same shhk sound it had made when it entered—

No. Jason’s not thinking right now. Not thinking is nice. Jason changes out of his own Batman costume. He removes the shrapnel from Tim’s batarang wound, applies antiseptic, and bandages it. Jason tries not to flinch at Tim’s groan of pain. He fails.

They can’t stay here, not when Jason left so many clues as to his location. No, they need to leave, return to one of his safehouses—one that Oracle hopefully hasn’t discovered yet.

On autopilot, Jason goes to where he stored his bike and orders Tim to climb on. The kid manages it, somehow, and they’re off.

The sheer insanity of this situation hits him in slow motion. Jason had put on the Batman costume to prove a point, prove that Batman could and should have been better. He’ll be the hero that he should’ve had as a kid. But he hadn’t really thought it out long-term, hadn’t expected to actually stay as Batman. He wants it, but he hadn’t planned for it. Does he want it?

A car honks at him. Jason yells “Asshole!” and swerves to the side.

What the fuck was Tim thinking, agreeing to team up with someone who clearly wants him dead? Well, probably that he didn’t want to die, because Jason had presented this as Tim’s one chance to survive.

Because Jason had been about to kill him.

Jason’s glad that Tim said yes, because he would have regretted it, maybe. Without the cowl, Tim looks young. Like a kid. (Because he’s sixteen.) And Jason can and does live with being a murder, but killing a child? No.

So, yeah, Jason’s happy that Tim defused the situation, but what the hell possessed him to ask Tim to be his Robin?

The Lazarus Pit possessed him, obviously. Jason doesn’t know why he does about half the things he does under the Pit’s influence. He probably was trying to prove some sort of point. He knows he definitely didn’t plan for Tim to accept the deal.

What happens next? Jason imagines putting on the Batman costume and going out to fight crime at night. He imagines Tim flipping down from a low rooftop wearing the bright traffic-light colors, imagines throwing a batarang through a trafficker’s neck, imagines those colors filling his vision, imagines throwing a batarang through Robin’s neck—

Fuck. Jason feels himself shaking and his eyes heating up as an emerald haze seeps into his vision. He forces himself to take in a deep breath. It doesn’t help. The Pit presses at his barriers, begging to dissolve his pain in acidic green. Jason swerves to the side through the right lane of traffic and to the edge of the curve. “Get off,” he barks.

Tim steps off the bike, barely keeping his balance. “Yes, Batman,” he says, brow furrowed in confusion. Jason looks away studiously and takes several calming breaths.

He doesn’t need a Robin. He doesn’t want a Robin. Robin shouldn’t exist. When Jason returned to Gotham, he should’ve grabbed Tim and taken him away from Batman’s war. Instead of seeing an enemy and rival, he should’ve seen a victim. Jason should’ve protected this kid.

But Bruce is gone now. Jason isn’t saving Tim from him. He’s just subjecting him to the same suffering Jason went through.

Hell, Jason can’t keep his anger under control at all. He’s got the Pit messing around with his brain. One of his biggest triggers is the Robin uniform, the Robin uniform he was planning to dress a kid in.

But he’s not, whispers a corner of Jason’s brain, the corner he’s trying really hard not to listen to at the moment. He’s not really a kid. He’s Robin.

Tim is sixteen. By the time Jason was Tim’s age, he’d been buried.

But that doesn’t change what he was. What Tim is now. A teenager. A kid. Someone that the Red Hood would protect.

And not only did Jason fail to protect Tim, but he almost killed him.

Robin shouldn’t exist.

“Go home,” Jason orders, still refusing to look at Tim. He doesn’t want to see the wounds he caused and he doesn’t want to let the Pit gain control again.

“W-what?” Tim asks shakily.

“Go home!” Jason shouts, turning back toward the kid just in time to see him flinch.

Tim looks around, then frowns defeatedly. “Okay, Batman.”

Jason watches him start to walk off and then realizes that Tim’s currently bleeding through his bandages and is a very long walk from the Batcave.

“Wait,” he says. Tim freezes. “Sorry, I’ll—” Fuck, can Jason handle this? Should he call a taxi or something? Can Jason trust any taxi driver willing to take a bleeding kid wearing body armor? Jason takes a deep breath. He can do this. Get Tim on the bike, take Tim to Leslie’s clinic, return to his safehouse and re-evaluate his life choices. “I’ll take you to Leslie.” Tim nods tightly. “Then you go home and you stay home. Got it?”

“What about Robin?” Tim asks quietly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jason says. “You’re not my—” Green. Rephrase. “You’re not going to work for me.” He sees Tim’s face fall. Why the fuck did the Replacement look disappointed not to be kidnapped and forced to work with an enemy who’s tried to murder him multiple times? Oh, right. Murder. “I’m still not going to kill you.” Tim should be thrilled. He does not look thrilled.

Tim clenches his fists in the fabric of his leggings. “Please, Batman,” he says. “I can still be Robin. I don’t know what I did, but I’ll fix it, I promise.”

It takes multiple seconds for Jason to process that. Is Tim concussed? Does he think he’s still with Bruce? Why is he begging Jason to let him be Robin? Reluctantly, Jason removes his motorcycle helmet. Tim is still standing there, shaking.

Jason lifts his arms in a gesture of surrender and slowly climbs off his bike, before taking a couple of steps toward Tim. “I said you don’t have to join me and I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to take you to get fixed up, and then you’ll go back to the Manor.”

“You can’t,” Tim says. “Batman needs a Robin.”

“I don’t need Robin.”

“But you do. Batman, you’ve got Oracle, Nightwing, and Damian against you. You can’t take them all alone. But if you let me help you, we can negotiate a truce.”

“I’m not working with them,” Jason hisses.

“You won’t have to!” Tim explains. “I’ll be your go-between. And you need someone to help out if the Pit takes over, right? If I’m there as Robin, you’ll go after me and not anyone you don’t intend to hurt.”

And fuck. Jason’s going to be sick. Tim’s not confused about the situation; he understands it all too well. And for some reason, he’s offering himself up as a punching bag.

Jason thinks back to Tim’s words when they first met. About how he was only Robin because Batman needed someone to help him keep control. He wonders if this was what Robin had been like for Tim.

“No,” Jason says. “No! You’re not Robin, we’re not doing this. We’re not!”

“Batman—”

Something in Jason explodes. It’s not the Pit, this time. It’s him. “I’m not Batman!” He shouts. “Don’t call me Batman!”

Tim’s eyes widen like he’s about to bolt. Jason expects him to. But instead, Tim stands stock-still, hands at his side. Only the slightest tilt away reveals his instinct to escape. He looks like he’s expecting to be hit. “Okay, Red Hood.”

“Stop it, Tim, just stop it, okay? I don’t want to be Batman, I don’t want to be Red Hood, I don’t—I don’t want any of this!” Jason feels a pull on his scalp and realizes that he’s tearing at his hair. Slowly, he lowers his hands.

Tim just stares at him, a statue. His bandages are looking very red right now.

“Fuck. I—we need to get you medical attention. The doc’s too far away. I’ll take you to a safehouse, stitch you up there.” Jason imagines having to let the Joker stitch him up and nearly pukes. “I know you probably…don’t feel very good about that. But you need to not bleed out.”

“Are you going to be Batman?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, defeated. When he says it, Jason knows it’s true. Gotham is a mess right now. Red Hood alone can’t clean it up. Someone needs to wear the cowl, and it’s certainly not going to be Tim.

“Please let me be Robin,” Tim says.

“Why the fuck do you want to work with me, Replacement?” Jason asks.

Tim looks down. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Well, that’s an easy fix, then. “You’ve got Dickwing and Babs and the Demon Brat. You’re not alone.”

Tim shakes his head. “If you don’t have a Robin, they’ll have to stop you. And they will stop you. And then Nightwing will have to be Batman.” Tim looks up, not quite meeting Jason’s eyes. “He won’t need me. And Damian will need Robin.”

That’s some logic. Jason doesn’t really feel like picking it apart, not when Tim’s currently dying from an injury he caused. “You won’t be alone, though. Just pick another name, like Dick did.”

“I’m not part of the family,” Tim says. “Once they don’t need me anymore, I’ll have to leave. But Batman needs a Robin. Please, Jason. Let me be Robin to your Batman. And I promise I’ll make it worth it. Please.”

Jason doesn’t know what to do. He knows Tim’s head is obviously fucked up. He knows he can’t fix that. He doesn’t know if what Tim’s saying is true. He hopes it’s not, but he hasn’t exactly been paying attention to the family these days.

He does know that Tim had listed being a target of Jason’s Pit Rage as a reason why he’d be useful as Robin. And he does know that Tim has decided the results of that are somehow far preferable to not being Robin.

Jason will just have to be—really careful. Extremely careful. If Tim thinks getting almost murdered or possibly actually murdered is better than being alone, Jason’s going to make sure he’s not alone. That simple. And not murder or almost murder him. That’s less simple. But he’ll figure it out. He has to figure it out.

Maybe Oracle can set up some sort of biometrics to figure out when Jason’s losing himself to the Pit and, like, play a funny song or something.

He can do this.

“Okay,” Jason says.

Tim grins widely, but Jason can’t help but think his eyes look a little bit scared.

“We’ll have to set some ground rules,” Jason says. Tim nods frantically. “But for now, you need stitches. So, uh, let’s go do that.”

Jason hovers as Tim climbs back on his bike, before sliding on in front of him. “Hold on tight,” he says. Tim’s bandages were bleeding through. Jason needs to get him to a safehouse as quickly as possible.

“Okay,” Tim says. His voice is growing thinner, beginning to betray his pain. Jason should have offered him painkillers, but decreasing Tim’s pain hadn’t really been a goal of his until now, and he doesn’t carry anything stronger than Tylenol with him anyway. “I will.” Even so, Tim’s arms are concerningly weak as he follows Jason’s instruction.

Jason revs his bike and peels off back onto the road. Behind him, Tim starts shaking. The motions are subtle, Tim desperately trying to keep his body under control. Is it pain? Fear? Shock?

They’re about five minutes out from Jason’s nearest safehouse. When they get there, Jason will stitch Tim up, set him up on the couch, and find some painkillers for him. And reassure Tim that Jason’s not going to murder him in his sleep. That’s probably important, even if Tim may or may not actually believe him.

Then tomorrow, he’ll fix this. Apologize. Remind Tim he doesn’t have to be Robin. Figure out how the hell Batman managed to fuck the kid up this badly.

Most importantly, he’ll make sure Tim won’t be alone. And if that means that Tim is his Robin? So be it.

Jason will find a way to make this work.