Fic: Rip in Soul 3

[aiyokusama]

Title: Rip in Soul -- Part Three
Author: AiyokuSama
Fandom: Batamn, comics/DCAU crossover
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth.
Warnings: References to RotJ and torture.  Mention of past character death.  Lots of swearing.
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 5594
Summery: The broken Robins meet for a first time.
Author's Notes: This is the second in the series.  You can find the first part HERE and the second is HERE.  Thank you dragonbat2006 for putting up with me and being such a wonderful beta!

Jason doesn't miss the fact that Alfred is keeping an eye on him. The man hasn't said a word, but that's because he doesn't have to. If Jason does anything to threaten Timmy, the butler will have something to say no doubt. Possibly with the business end of a shotgun. Good thing Jason isn't planning on doing anything of the sort.


He munches his fourth cookie and regards the boy who hasn't said anything more than a mumbled “thank you” for his snack. There has to be some way to get a reaction from the kid, something that’ll give him a peek inside his head. A light bulb goes on and Jason gives a little smirk. When he finishes his own cookie (Al baking peanut butter cookies has seriously made his day), he surreptitiously reaches for the kid's plate…

…And has a fork (where the hell had the kid gotten that?! Neither of them have been given cutlery) planted in the table top, so close to the offending hand that it presses again his skin. Jason raises an eyebrow at the darkly-glaring boy. It's a stare-off. Not that Jason minds, but this isn't helping either. “Ah, come on. Your Dick must have taught you the value of sharing.”

The look gets even more malevolent, if that's possible. Wow, that's actually kind of impressive. “You don't like the guy?” Jason asks. It's not really something he cares about but, at this point, anything that gets the boy talking is fine.

But the kid still isn't talking. He just looks down at the fork in the table and gets a broody expression on his face. Jason still doesn’t move his hand, but he looks to Alfred for help. The man gives a sigh of his own, but says nothing. Apparently, the butler still doesn’t trust him, which is smart, reasonable, and so not helpful.

“Oh, for crying out loud. I know this family's f-” He glances at Alfred and notices the implicit threat in that stare. Jason doesn't exactly blush, but it's close. “…Has communication issues, but this is beyond typical. I mean, way beyond,” he emphasizes the point, as the boy gives him a blank look. “Damn it, I never thought I'd actually WANT a Dick Grayson snuggle attack,” he mutters under his breath.

Jason is more than a little surprised when the boy's blank look becomes a mixture of skepticism and cautious curiosity. Huh, what has he-? “You've never heard of the Dick Grayson snuggle attack?” The boy shakes his head once. Well that's, uh...

“You know, where the freak gives you a full body hug and won't let go.” The skeptical part is winning out over the curious. And maybe he’s throwing in some time-for-Jason-to-visit-Arkham for good measure. Yeah, the kid definitely is looking at him like some tranqs would be in order. “Uhm....” He tries again. “Your Dick hugs, right?”

Another head shake from the boy. Alfred comes to the rescue. “Master Richard is not prone to displays of physical affection,” he informs them, as he puts another three cookies apiece on their respective plates. Jason takes one (from his own plate) and munches it absently, as he tries to digest this information.

“That's just bizarre,” he huffs after a moment’s thought. The puzzled glance that passes between the elderly man and the boy has Jason snickering and shaking his head. “Don't worry, it's a world-hopping thing.”

The boy seems to accept that. But as he goes back to munching his cookies, he's favouring Jason with a speculative look. The displaced man decides to return the favour. The boy raises an eyebrow at him. Jason raises one back. He then gives an exaggerated glower and sticks his tongue out while crossing his eyes. It's so impossibly juvenile, but it’s also totally worth it when the kid actually snorts.

“So you're not a mute,” Jason declares triumphantly. And gets a scowl for it. “Anyhow, what's up with B?” he asks. If he just keeps moving from subject to subject, maybe something will get the kid to give it up and actually talk to him. No, he's NOT thinking about why he wants Tim Drake (even if it's a different Tim Drake) to talk to him.

When there is no answer, he continues. “Was he pissed that you weren't doing your homework or some sh-” Jason clamps his mouth shut as he feels Alfred loom behind him.

A blink. Then he can see the wall go up, as the kid closes off and practically falls in on himself. That was so not the reaction that he wanted, fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck! And fuck some more, because, fucking hell, this kid has issues. Or something. Jason is now even more determined to figure it out. Wait.

“Did he fire you?” Yeah, going by the haunted look in the kid’s eyes, that’s a score. Tim only glances at him for a moment but it's enough. “That fucker!” Jason pushes his chair back abruptly and stands, almost upsetting the very solid kitchen table.

“Where on Earth do you think you're going, young man?” Alfred demands, as he hovers close to Timothy.

“To stove the asshole's face in!” Jason turns on his heel and storms off toward the study. It's possible that this manor also has an entrance in the pantry, but it's not worth being wrong. And besides, he's fuming, thinking is not really in the cards.

Okay, so he doesn't know the situation, but it's pretty much a given that Bruce is fucking it up because he's fucking Bruce, who has the sensitivity of an amoeba when it comes to the emotional well-being of his fucking family! Jason remembers what kind of a mess Dick had been that first time he'd come to the Cave. The acrobat had worked hard to hide all that hurt when he was trying to be Jason's friend and big brother, but it hadn't worked perfectly.

Of course Dick is Dick, warm and forgiving and so full of optimism. He's practically built to deal with-and recover from-Bruce's stupidity. However he doesn't see ANY of that in Tim. The kid is clearly in a bad way, and Bruce IS going to grab a fucking clue, even if Jason has to shove it up his ass sideways.

He's taking the stairs down, three at a time, as he charges into the area. Bruce is swivelling the computer chair, as Jason closes in. “What the fuck did you do to that kid?” he demands, stalking over and clenching his fists.

Whatever Bruce sees in him is enough to get the man on his feet, braced in a relaxed ready position. “Nothing,” comes the gravely response, as the fucker uses the Voice on him. Yeah, not a good idea. There was a time when the Voice would have given him pause, but now, it just pisses him off. Especially in light of absolutely everything else that's going on.

If the bastard isn't going to talk, then Jason has no problem making him. There is anger boiling over in him, and some of it even has to do with the issues in this world. A lot of his own unresolved issues are rearing their ugly heads, too, adding themselves to his need to understand what's going on with Timothy. To do something about it. A part of Jason knows he's not thinking clearly, but it's a very small part, and it’s getting smaller all the time. He doesn't remember throwing the punch or even if it’s his first. It's certainly not his last. He's going after him at full speed, and Bruce is just blocking him. Hard blocks that are going to leave the billionaire with bruises.

Jason pulls back, his eyes blazing. This isn't enough. Except for how it is. Or it should be. B probably deserves worse, but Jason is not the fucked-up psycho he used to be. Still a bit psycho, but that comes with the whole vigilante bit. Among other things. He forces his hands down (though he's still ready to use them), and takes a deep breath. “You fired him, and it's fucked him over. So start talking, old man!” There, he's using his words instead of his fists; that's definitely an improvement.

The steely blue eyes that look at him are cold and closed. The only thing he can see in the man’s expression is unwavering resolve. To do what? They stand glaring at each other. Just when Jason is starting to wonder if hitting the fucker again is called for, Bruce opens his mouth.

“It's his story to tell.” And that's it. Bruce says nothing more, but he's looking at something behind Jason. The former Robin turns and at first, all he can see is darkness. He looks a little harder. There, by the wall, not far from the racks of practice weapons. Of course, Timmy is there, watching them. Once again, the multiverse proves that some things just fucking ARE.

Jason takes another deep breath and stands up straight. Nodding to himself, he makes a decision. “I'm going for a ride.” He looks pointedly at Timmy's bit of shadow. “Coming?”

He doesn't miss that the boy looks to Bruce. Nor does he miss Bruce's frown. As the man opens his mouth to give the predictable refusal, Jason speaks over him. “Not your fucking call, B. You gave up that right when you fired him.”

He turns, giving the billionaire his back, and walks over to the kid. “The only one deciding is you. I need to get out of here before I make him bleed. You can come with, if you want.” Tim gazes up at him uncertainly; Jason knows he's being weighed and measured. Judged. He allows it, waiting, because fuck if the kid doesn't have plenty of reasons to mistrust him.

~~~

When this Jason person comes downstairs, a blind man can see that he is upset about something. It's strange. Bruce is used to Dick's anger and rage, which burn so hot, matching the young man's passion for life. This one is different. Angry, yes, but not even close to the same rage.

It doesn't help that the man seems to be drawing on his knowledge of his own Bruce… his own world. There seems to be an instability there, or perhaps he just wants there to be. Then he'd have an excuse for. Something. A reason not to help him? Can he risk exposing them all to a world with something worse than the Justice Lords?

He’ll have to think about it later because Jason is yelling. Accusing. Then attacking. That this Jason seems so concerned with Bruce's ward is disconcerting. The man can't possibly know what happened, what was done to the boy for weeks. Yet, at the same time, he can't really fault the stranger for it. If anything, it speaks well of him that he cares. But, why does he care?

The detective’s mind is trying to piece it together even as he blocks Jason's strikes. They aren't quite lethal attacks-and is that a training issue or a conscious choice?-but damage will occur if they reach their target. Damage is occurring even with his blocks. Bruce chooses to let the man expend himself in his efforts and watches Jason take a step back and try to calm himself. To regain control. It's a fascinating process.

“You fired him, and it's fucked him over. So, start talking, old man!”

Bruce blinks. What on earth...? No, the issue is clear enough. And yes, he knows that Tim has reacted badly to being told he's no longer Robin, but there is nothing else for it. The boy needs to put all his time and energy into recovering, into healing from his ordeal. Mentally even more so then physically.

The faintest hint of movement catches his attention. While he wouldn't have told the boy's story to Jason, it became all the more important that he make that point plain. “It's his story to tell,” the billionaire informs him. Tim as well as Jason.

He knows that Tim is angry at him, and it is understandable. Bruce just hopes that at some point, the child will come to realize it is for the best. That Bruce is trying to give Tim the life that was stolen from him.

It feels like that's getting less and less plausible, but Bruce won't allow himself to waver in his resolve. Tim's well-being depends on him being the strong one. Except, it seems that Jason is intent on taking on that role himself. And that is disconcerting, if for no other reason than because Jason is an unknown quantity.

When Jason announces that he's going for a “ride,” the uneasy feeling becomes clanging alarm bells. Deafening, especially when he invites Tim to come along. Bruce, of course, means to say that such a thing is out of the question. He doesn't get the words out, as Jason informs him that he doesn't get a say in the matter.

Bruce frowns deeply as he sees the faintest nod from Tim. He's losing control of the situation. No, that's wrong. He's lost control. Bruce means to say something, but the glance Tim gives him silences him. His desire to see the boy happy wars with his need to keep him safe. And this Jason person is definitely not in the “safe” category. While the man honestly seems interested in Tim and his welfare, it could just be wishful thinking on Bruce's part.

Before he can decide how to handle this situation, Jason is speaking again and Tim is moving off toward the vehicles. Jason favours the billionaire with a withering look, before he moves to follow the boy's lead.

He was wrong. It's not that he's lost control of the situation. It's that he never had any to begin with. First the Joker took the boy, but then ever since he and Barbara found him, Tim himself has refused to allow anyone in. It's understandable, but so very frustrating. And now, there is Jason as well. That Tim seems inclined to at least spend time with the man is... something. Possibly a good thing, probably not.

Bruce is left to his thoughts as he watches the pair abscond with one of the bikes that had been meant for Nightwing, but which has never left the cave, or been seen by the man. So many thoughts. So many mistakes. He doesn't know how start repairing any of them.

~~~

When Jason announces his intent to go do something to Bruce (Tim doesn't actually believe he'll be able to land anything on Batman) he just has to go and see for himself. Covertly of course.

Tim has already experienced Jason's skill, so that isn’t really what he’s watching. Instead he looks at the body language. Jason is openly angry, every movement glaringly honest. Tim watches as he backs Bruce around, while Bruce just blocks attacks.

Watching them takes Tim out of himself. He doesn't have to think about anything, he can just observe. It's just... Jason is angry on his behalf and that doesn't make any sense. The man isn't from this world. He doesn't know him. Why would he care?

If he knew what had happened. If he knew how damaged Tim is...

The darkness begins to roll in. He can feel it trying to suffocate him. No, that's the laughter that still sits silent in his chest. Breathe, he has to breathe. Hold it together. Hold--

Jason is shouting again. Talking about things the guy doesn't understand. Or… Or something. Does he understand? Can he possibly, since no one has explained what happened? But it gives Tim something to focus on. Fired. He was fired. And Bruce thinks it's the right thing. Jason doesn't agree. Why doesn't he agree?

It's not all about him. It can't be all about him. Trying to puzzle it out, he almost misses both men are looking at him in his shadowed vantage point. Tim frowns, which is infinitely better then laughing. No, don't think about that.

He doesn't have to think about anything but Jason's question. “Coming?” Coming, where? Oh, he's said something about going for a ride. Jason is asking if Tim wants to come along. Getting out of the Cave and away from Bruce sounds like a very good idea. Even better when Jason indicates that he should pick the vehicle. Of course he goes for one of the Nightwing bikes. He's not sure why Bruce made them, since Dick doesn't even know they exist.

The massive bike is far too big for someone of Tim's stature, but he's always wanted to ride it, just the same. For one brief moment, he's just a boy looking at a sweet bike and thinking about feeling its power as the wind rushes by.

Except that he doesn't have to think about it. Jason is behind him, nodding approval at his choice. Looking at the sweet crotch rocket, no one would think it anything other than a very high-end bike, but this one has some optional extras that make it suitable for a night’s patrol. But they aren't going on patrol. It's not even night time.

Breathe. He needs to breathe. He needs to calm down. So many triggers, so much pain. And the laughter… His lips pull back and he can feel his eyes going wild. But Jason is on the bike, looking at him, and waiting. He's supposed to get on the bike. He can do that. He can do more than that. He can put on his helmet, which seems to be a signal for Jason to do the same. Dark blue helmets that will blend into the night...

Tim slides on behind Jason and grips the bar behind the seat. “Got a good hold?” Jason asks, as he revs the bike to life.

He can breathe. And nod. Thankfully the nod is enough. It's a very good thing his grip is solid, because Jason practically launches the bike from the Cave. They are out and through the hologram within a heartbeat, then speeding through the back roads of Bristol, apparently heading for town. Tim has no idea where Jason is taking them, and maybe Jason doesn't know himself. The route seems completely random, though that could have to do with this not being his Gotham. How different is the city in his world?

One thing is for sure, Jason is putting the bike through its paces. They are racing toward a drawbridge. The signal is blaring, the lights are flashing and the gate is coming down to block off traffic. The bridge is just starting to go up. Jason accelerates the bike faster. They both duck, as they speed under the gate, and then they are headed up. When they hit the gap, it's like flying. For a moment he's breathless, smiling. Remembering.

The darkness doesn't have the chance to seize him. He's too busy bracing for the landing, keeping himself ready to move with the bike. The jump is exhilarating, but he doesn't want a case of road rash as they quasi-slide down the other side.

Jason skids the bike to a halt when they are on solid groundand looks back, watching as the bridge continues to rise. He can't see Tim's smile under the tinted face shield, nor can Tim see Jason's expression. Just the same, he gets the feeling the man is smirking at him.

Jason seems to like smirks. Not smiles. There is something dark and hidden in his expressions, maybe even contemptuous. He's not sure, he just knows that it's not bad, or at least that the bad part isn't directed at him.

Then Jason barks an order through the comms in the helmets for him to hold on and they are off again at speed. It's mid-afternoon. There is no rush hour traffic yet, but even so, it's congested. Zooming in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds is bound to get some attention. So he's not that surprised when he hears the sirens. A glance back confirms that they are sounding for them.

Jason is laughing, a sound as dark as it is pleased. They go faster. There are all kinds of places a bike can go that a patrol car can't. They manage to lose their colourful friends two blocks later. But the car, no doubt, called it in. .

They should get themselves elsewhere. Perhaps Jason is thinking the same thing, because they are now heading back to Bristol. No, he doesn't want to go home. Home. It's not his home. Not anymore, no. Tim grits his teeth as he desperately pleads with his mind to just stay sane a little longer. Just a bit more. If he starts laughing, will he remember to hold on?

They are moving through Bristol, yes, but this isn't the right road to go back. It's. It's the one that will take them away from the manor and toward the county line. Where are they going?

The well-maintained roads of Gotham's well-to-do suburb gives way to the pebbled concrete of the country. It's strange. He's never been out here. But at the speed they are going, there isn't much to see. There is something comforting about the speed. Maybe, if they go fast enough, all the pain will be left behind.

The rough surface of the road becomes worse, and they start swerving around pot holes. Jason does slow down a bit, and Tim takes the opportunity to look around. He's in the country, alright. It's mostly trees here, with the occasional glimpse of grassy hills. It's... peaceful.

There's no reason why he should, but Jason turns off onto what is little more than a dirt track. It doesn't even deserve to be called a road. Clearly, no one but the wildlife has been this way in a very long time. More than a couple of branches seem to be trying to brush the boy off, as they continue on their way. Where are they going?

The trail starts heading up, and in some spots it really puts the bike's suspension to the test. Tim is hanging on white-knuckled by the time Jason finally decides to pull off at a barren outcropping. Jason shuts down the bike, but makes no move to get off. His strong legs support both the bike and its added weight.

The man sits, looking out over the forest, which Tim admits is kind of pretty with all its many shades of green. It's so completely different from everything else, from... before. From the life he no longer has. Idly, he wonders if he could just move to a cabin somewhere and be a hermit. The idea has some appeal.

“I was the second Robin in my world,” Jason states in a distracted fashion. Does he mean to speak aloud? Is he aware that the electronics are carrying his words to Tim? “It was both the best time of my life and the worst. I was a street kid. A cocky little fucker, which was mostly me trying to fake it till I could make it, ya know?”

The comm carries the words easily, but somehow it feels wrong. The thought of taking it off makes him feel naked, but also free in an odd away. He holds the helmet easily against his belly, as Jason continues.

Maybe he's taking a cue from Tim. Whatever the reason, Jason takes off his helmet and looks back at him with a lopsided little not-smile. “Then one day, I saw this sweet-assed ride in a back alley. The Batmobile. Just sitting there. And I decided to boost the tires. Managed to get two of them off and back to my temporary residence of the week. When I went back for the third one, HE was there. And he totally did the looming thing.”

The man shakes his head, still with that odd little expression. Tim wonders what he's thinking. This guy obviously has more than a few issues with Bruce, to say the least. Some of the things Jason said make it pretty clear he doesn't like the man very much. Maybe it didn't start out that way?

“Not only did he make me get the tires and put them back on while he glowered at me, he fucking tied me up, stuffed me in the car, and took me back to the Cave. Not that I knew where he'd taken me. Al kind of freaked out when he saw me. Then he came back with sandwiches. Course, it's not very easy to eat when you're tied up in the computer chair.”

He's looking at Tim. Probably watching for a reaction. Jason seems to want something from him, but Tim isn't quite sure what. Words, definitely. However, verbal communication isn’t something he's ready for, not yet. So Tim just watches him, listening.

“Anyhow, turned out he kind of liked the spunky kid that was talking smack to him. And, after a few days, he decided to train me. He also adopted me. THAT was a serious head trip on a lot of levels, and I tried not to think too hard on it. I focused on this weird guy wanting to make me hardcore so that I could go and fight crime on the streets with him.

“And that was awesome… when he wasn't comparing me to Dick. But it wasn't easy. All those issues I ignored kept coming up. We fought-even though we made a really good team. Then things happened and he seemed to lose his trust in me, not that the fucker would ever just TELL me. The only thing he ever said was that he thought my head wasn't in the game. And he benched me. Sometimes, I wonder how different things would have been if he hadn't.”

He turns away from Tim and looks back out at the forest below them. The man has a faraway look in his eyes. He even looks a little lost. It's a feeling to which Tim can relate all too well. He says nothing to break the silence. He has no idea what to say. Whatever story Jason is telling, he'll just have to wait for him to continue. If he continues.

After several minutes, Jason takes a steadying breath and pulls himself together. “A lot of things happened. The Cliff Notes version is that I went looking for my biological mom and she handed me over to the guy she was working with. The Joker. Bruce was off trying to save lives, while the Joker was beating me. Then the psycho left a bomb that blew up the building Mom and I were in.”

Tim only barely hears anything after the Joker is mentioned. He takes a hitching breath and starts to panic as he feels his face trying to pull into the all-too-familiar rictus. Breathe. He can breathe. If he just focuses on that...

Maybe Jason feels the change in him, because the man turns to look at him. There is a moment where Jason's manner turns from pensive and distant to openly concerned. The guy really doesn't seem to have much of a poker face, some part of him muses.

“Hey, kid. Easy. Come on.”

Jason has a hand on his shoulder. Firm, trying to get his attention, get him to focus. He can focus. It's Jason's story. It's what happened to Jason. Over on a different world, so it doesn't matter. At least, that’s what Tim tries to tell himself. It's not working. He shakes himself hard and the hand is gone. Oh, he hadn't meant for Jason to stop touching him.

Why does he like Jason touching him? Bruce doesn't touch. Or Dick. The only one that touched him was... was... no, don't think about it. Don't.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Jason asks, as he watches the boy struggle for control. Tim nods. He needs something, anything outside of himself to focus on. And he really can't do more than nod. He needs something. Desperately. But he can't say what. No, he can, maybe. He needs not to laugh.

~~~

He's not sure why he’s started telling the kid his story. But it feels like a good thing. Especially since the kid actually seems to be listening to him. That’s a great start, even if the kid won't talk to him. When Tim indicates that Jason should continue, he nods back. Even so, it takes him a moment to get back into the story. This is the part that he really hates.

“Dying sucks ass, but coming back is ten times worse.” He's not looking at Tim, not really, for all that he's still turned toward the kid. Still, he catches Tim's raised eyebrow. “I woke up IN my coffin, shorty.” That gets Tim's eyes to widen. “Yeah, like that. I'm not all that fond of small places anymore,” Jason says, trying to make light of it.

The sky-blue eyes are watching him. Expecting something, maybe. “I don't actually remember a lot of the first two years after that. I was in a coma for a year, and then, I spent some time on the Gotham streets. Or so I've been told. Someone, not Batman, recognized me and told Talia al Ghul. She came and got me, which wasn't hard, seeing as I was pretty much a mindless zombie at that point. She apparently spent almost a year trying to reach me. Get me dezombified Finally, she threw me in the Lazarus Pit with dear old dad.” He shudders and tries to smile, but given Tim's reaction, his expression is probably scarier than he means for it to be. “I really don't recommend that either.”

He sighs and looks out at the trees again. He's not sure he can keep going. There's just so much shit, and a lot of it was his fault; he can admit that, now. But a lot of it was also the fucking head games of others. Talia. Bruce too, though with him it's just his fucking stupidity. Dick has tried to reach out to him, but Jason hasn't been ready, yet.

“Dunno if your B told you, but Lazarus Pits do a serious number on your sanity. And Talia played on that. She wanted to use me to hurt Bruce. And I had my own reasons for wanting to hurt Bruce. Some of them were even justified. The end result was a fucking mess, a lot of which I regret, mostly cuz I wasted so much time and energy on stupid shit. Other things, I don't regret at all.” He sighs, trying to regroup a little. Jason knows he's glossing over all kinds of shit, and from the look on Tim's face, so does the kid. Oh well, it's the best he can do at the moment.

“One thing I don't regret is that when I came back, I ditched the Old Man's 'no kill' rule. Because, honestly, a lot of the fucking psychos in Arkham need to be put down like the rabid dogs they are. You can't reason with them and they aren't ever going to change. They just keep getting out and more innocents die. So when I came back, I made good on that, trying to do something about the Gotham gangs. The Old Man didn't like it. He liked it even less when he figured out who I was.”

Does he tell the kid the shit Bruce said? The stupidity the fucker pulled, because he couldn't fucking deal with reality? No, not right now. Maybe later. Maybe.

Jason blows out a breath and glares at the trees. “Anyhow, we clash lots. Same with Dick, since he's the golden boy and follows Daddy Bat's lead. Hell, I clash with our version of you. Of late, Tim and I have been doing better. I suppose, one out three isn't bad,” he says with a shrug.

Turning around he looks at Tim, who is still just watching him. Not a word but, well, fuck it. The kid will talk to him when he's ready.

They've been out here a while, judging by the shadows settling in. That dirt track they came up probably wouldn't be a whole lot of fun in the dark. “Ready to go back?” Jason asks, looking back at the boy. The question gets a noncommittal shrug. Jason gives a little grin. “Think of it as going back to Al; he's the one we don't want to worry, yeah?” This time, there is a considering nod. Then a firmer nod. “Kay, helmet on, shorty.”

Jason puts on his own, and kicks the bike to life. He revs it for a few moments, both to give Tim time to get himself straightened out and to enjoy the power of the bike. He likes the forest but, ultimately, Jason is a city boy, and the rumble of the engine is a comforting thing. A quick glance behind shows that Tim is set, and Jason takes off. By the time they get back, there should be a late dinner waiting-and, probably, a lecture or two.

End... of this part