Fic: Familial Duties, Batverse, Jason, Tim, PG-13, 1/1
Tim wants to leave the family - permanently. That gives Jason a reason to rejoin it - partially.
Note: Talk of suicide. Angst galore. Spoilers for Flash: The Fastest Man Alive #13
Familial Duties
Jay may have been an evil son-of-a-bitch (according to Dick), a sewer rat (according to Bruce), and a waste of potential (according to Babs), but there were some things even he didn’t do.
He didn’t kill kids, no matter how fucked up or strung out they were, he didn’t kick puppies (or kittens), he didn’t steal from little old ladies (or little old men), and he didn’t spit on or otherwise defile anyone’s grave.
Except the Joker’s. Really, the bastard had had it coming, and Jay only regretted that he hadn’t been able to go through with it the first time. But he had done it, and like he’d known, it had only driven his ‘family’ farther away.
All except the new little bird. Not so little anymore, but imminently more fragile since the latest happenings in the hero world. Even Jay, who these days only felt anger and annoyance and some frustrated form of satisfaction that wasn’t contentment, felt a twinge of pity for the kid.
The new Flash, the new dead Flash, was one of the few heroes Jay couldn’t paint with the brush of ‘stupid, arrogant, too afraid to get their hands dirty’. He’d heard about ‘Impulse’ and the kid was…sweet. He never used that word about anyone or anything, but the speedster had been sweet. He’d believed the best in everybody and did the right thing because it was right. One of those good-to-the-core, pure of heart people that were written about in fairy tales, but never really existed in the real world.
So really, it should have come as no surprise to find out that losing that ‘ray of light in his life’ or whatever, had knocked Timmy completely off his rocker. But that didn’t explain why the kid had chosen to come to him.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Jay demanded of the civvy-clad teen perched on his windowsill. The kid was wearing jeans loose from recent weight-loss, his ribs visible on one side of his chest where his long-sleeved shirt was pulled taut.
Both in shades of gray, as if all of Robin’s colors had bled out of him, even more than just the green.
“I wondered if maybe you’d be in the mood for the finishing the job tonight,” the not-Robin replied.
It was only the complete and utter lack of emotion in Tim’s voice that kept Jason from realizing the import of his fellow bird’s words - at first. “Wait… You-”
“Want you to kill me, yes,” Tim replied, as bland as the oatmeal Alfred had fed him when he’d had the measles. “I know you’d be able to do it so no matter what Bruce tries, he won’t be able to bring me back.”
Jason scowled and yanked the boy inside. Tim hung, limp as a rag doll from his hand. “And it’ll just give daddy dearest another reason to hate me, too, right?” Though not even he was mad enough at all the Bats to think that little Timmy would ask him to be his Kevorkian just to make Bruce hate him more.
Tim shrugged, but the dead shine to his eyes was what really burned Jason up. He had to get angry, he couldn’t afford to care, to feel for this…kid.
He didn’t kill kids. No matter how fucked up.
“He already hates you,” Tim told him, and was too out of it to notice Jason’s flinch. “Or has convinced himself he does. If you kill me, at least he won’t end up hating two of his sons instead of just one.”
Jason barked a laugh, incredulous. “You’re so depressed that you want to end your life, and you’re still trying to make things better for your ‘family’?” The last word came out in a snarl as Jason shook the little bird, wanting to wring his neck, and knowing he wouldn’t. If the kid could actually think things through that much when he was falling apart inside…maybe Tim was a better Robin than Jason had even been.
Better than Dick, too, considering what his older brother had been up to when last they’d met.
Tim blinked and looked at him. There was a spark of life left, but whether the embers could be fanned into anything resembling a flame, Jason had no idea. “All I have left is duty.”
Duty. That’s what Jason had had, once upon a time. Duty to his mom, and then she’d died. Duty to himself, and then Bruce had come along and given him something better. Duty to Gotham, only she was a harsh mistress and Bruce was too controlling. So was Talia, but at least she wasn’t a hypocrite.
Gotham was his, too, maybe even more than Bruce’s since he lived Gotham instead of owned her. When he’d come back, Jason had decided to do things his own way.
“And you think your duty is to give up and die?” Jason demanded, words sharp and cutting as the five knives he had scattered around his person.
Tim shrugged; only one shoulder, as if he couldn’t spare the energy for both. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked.
Jason gave him a look filled with ‘Are you even more nuts than Bats thinks I am?’
“When you attacked me at Titans Tower,” the other clarified, reading his silent cues like a good little Robin. “Didn’t you want to kill me?”
Jason had wanted to hurt him, make him pay for replacing him so thoroughly that no one remembered he’d been Robin, that no one had been there when he’d come back except Bruce’s bad girl ex. He’d wanted to make the kid bleed and hurt like he’d been hurting, punish Tim in lieu of himself, because Jason had already been punished and it hadn’t fixed anything.
“No,” Jason said simply, and folded his arms over his chest.
Another shrug, this time from the other shoulder. “So does this mean you’re not going to help me?” Tim asked dully. It was only the barest bit of emotion, but finally the kid was showing some life, even if it was half-dead.
And Jason was evil now, or so they say. But he did what he did, killed who he killed, because it needed to be done.
Maybe, just maybe, he also did it to get Batman’s attention. Not like that worked; not like anything in their fucked up family ever worked.
“Not the way you think you want.” With that, Jason gassed the kid, catching his too-light form as he dropped unconscious. For a Robin, the formula for knockout gas he used should have taken an entire minute to drop him.
With as wiped and out of it as Tim had been, it hadn’t even taken ten seconds.
Sighing, Jason bent down and hauled Tim up into his arms. “You better be worth this, kid,” Jason muttered under his breath as he carted the much-too-light form of his replacement into the bedroom. He’d watch the kid for a few days, get some food into him, try and talk him out of his suicidal mindset. If that didn’t work, he’d drag Tim down to Leslie’s and get her to recommend a shrink.
Jason told himself he didn’t know why he cared, but he did. Tim was a Robin, which made him family. And even if Jason was currently on the outs with Big Daddy Bat, and Big Wing, and…well, everyone…he did still have some duties to fulfill.
And while his loyalty to the biggest rule of the Mission might have dissipated, his loyalty to his family never had, no matter what Bruce thought.
Note: Talk of suicide. Angst galore. Spoilers for Flash: The Fastest Man Alive #13
Familial Duties
Jay may have been an evil son-of-a-bitch (according to Dick), a sewer rat (according to Bruce), and a waste of potential (according to Babs), but there were some things even he didn’t do.
He didn’t kill kids, no matter how fucked up or strung out they were, he didn’t kick puppies (or kittens), he didn’t steal from little old ladies (or little old men), and he didn’t spit on or otherwise defile anyone’s grave.
Except the Joker’s. Really, the bastard had had it coming, and Jay only regretted that he hadn’t been able to go through with it the first time. But he had done it, and like he’d known, it had only driven his ‘family’ farther away.
All except the new little bird. Not so little anymore, but imminently more fragile since the latest happenings in the hero world. Even Jay, who these days only felt anger and annoyance and some frustrated form of satisfaction that wasn’t contentment, felt a twinge of pity for the kid.
The new Flash, the new dead Flash, was one of the few heroes Jay couldn’t paint with the brush of ‘stupid, arrogant, too afraid to get their hands dirty’. He’d heard about ‘Impulse’ and the kid was…sweet. He never used that word about anyone or anything, but the speedster had been sweet. He’d believed the best in everybody and did the right thing because it was right. One of those good-to-the-core, pure of heart people that were written about in fairy tales, but never really existed in the real world.
So really, it should have come as no surprise to find out that losing that ‘ray of light in his life’ or whatever, had knocked Timmy completely off his rocker. But that didn’t explain why the kid had chosen to come to him.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Jay demanded of the civvy-clad teen perched on his windowsill. The kid was wearing jeans loose from recent weight-loss, his ribs visible on one side of his chest where his long-sleeved shirt was pulled taut.
Both in shades of gray, as if all of Robin’s colors had bled out of him, even more than just the green.
“I wondered if maybe you’d be in the mood for the finishing the job tonight,” the not-Robin replied.
It was only the complete and utter lack of emotion in Tim’s voice that kept Jason from realizing the import of his fellow bird’s words - at first. “Wait… You-”
“Want you to kill me, yes,” Tim replied, as bland as the oatmeal Alfred had fed him when he’d had the measles. “I know you’d be able to do it so no matter what Bruce tries, he won’t be able to bring me back.”
Jason scowled and yanked the boy inside. Tim hung, limp as a rag doll from his hand. “And it’ll just give daddy dearest another reason to hate me, too, right?” Though not even he was mad enough at all the Bats to think that little Timmy would ask him to be his Kevorkian just to make Bruce hate him more.
Tim shrugged, but the dead shine to his eyes was what really burned Jason up. He had to get angry, he couldn’t afford to care, to feel for this…kid.
He didn’t kill kids. No matter how fucked up.
“He already hates you,” Tim told him, and was too out of it to notice Jason’s flinch. “Or has convinced himself he does. If you kill me, at least he won’t end up hating two of his sons instead of just one.”
Jason barked a laugh, incredulous. “You’re so depressed that you want to end your life, and you’re still trying to make things better for your ‘family’?” The last word came out in a snarl as Jason shook the little bird, wanting to wring his neck, and knowing he wouldn’t. If the kid could actually think things through that much when he was falling apart inside…maybe Tim was a better Robin than Jason had even been.
Better than Dick, too, considering what his older brother had been up to when last they’d met.
Tim blinked and looked at him. There was a spark of life left, but whether the embers could be fanned into anything resembling a flame, Jason had no idea. “All I have left is duty.”
Duty. That’s what Jason had had, once upon a time. Duty to his mom, and then she’d died. Duty to himself, and then Bruce had come along and given him something better. Duty to Gotham, only she was a harsh mistress and Bruce was too controlling. So was Talia, but at least she wasn’t a hypocrite.
Gotham was his, too, maybe even more than Bruce’s since he lived Gotham instead of owned her. When he’d come back, Jason had decided to do things his own way.
“And you think your duty is to give up and die?” Jason demanded, words sharp and cutting as the five knives he had scattered around his person.
Tim shrugged; only one shoulder, as if he couldn’t spare the energy for both. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked.
Jason gave him a look filled with ‘Are you even more nuts than Bats thinks I am?’
“When you attacked me at Titans Tower,” the other clarified, reading his silent cues like a good little Robin. “Didn’t you want to kill me?”
Jason had wanted to hurt him, make him pay for replacing him so thoroughly that no one remembered he’d been Robin, that no one had been there when he’d come back except Bruce’s bad girl ex. He’d wanted to make the kid bleed and hurt like he’d been hurting, punish Tim in lieu of himself, because Jason had already been punished and it hadn’t fixed anything.
“No,” Jason said simply, and folded his arms over his chest.
Another shrug, this time from the other shoulder. “So does this mean you’re not going to help me?” Tim asked dully. It was only the barest bit of emotion, but finally the kid was showing some life, even if it was half-dead.
And Jason was evil now, or so they say. But he did what he did, killed who he killed, because it needed to be done.
Maybe, just maybe, he also did it to get Batman’s attention. Not like that worked; not like anything in their fucked up family ever worked.
“Not the way you think you want.” With that, Jason gassed the kid, catching his too-light form as he dropped unconscious. For a Robin, the formula for knockout gas he used should have taken an entire minute to drop him.
With as wiped and out of it as Tim had been, it hadn’t even taken ten seconds.
Sighing, Jason bent down and hauled Tim up into his arms. “You better be worth this, kid,” Jason muttered under his breath as he carted the much-too-light form of his replacement into the bedroom. He’d watch the kid for a few days, get some food into him, try and talk him out of his suicidal mindset. If that didn’t work, he’d drag Tim down to Leslie’s and get her to recommend a shrink.
Jason told himself he didn’t know why he cared, but he did. Tim was a Robin, which made him family. And even if Jason was currently on the outs with Big Daddy Bat, and Big Wing, and…well, everyone…he did still have some duties to fulfill.
And while his loyalty to the biggest rule of the Mission might have dissipated, his loyalty to his family never had, no matter what Bruce thought.