#because i will immediately be tempted to buy the whole series or the author’s entire bibliography

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [3/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #incubus (sort of) #paranormal investigator 

Canon-Compliance: Alternate Universe; Jason still died but was not found by Talia when he was resurrected. All other events mostly follow the same chronology as New Earth continuity, with mentions made to events in New 52

First Chapter

Author's Note(s): Bit of a shorter chapter today because I have stuff to do later so I'm updating early.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

It’s another two hours before Jason returns to the East End. It had taken all of his concentration to keep Cole’s ghost focussed on him and his stories, instead of whatever unnamed force might tempt him back to gravesite. After the boy vanishes in the gradual, whispering way spirits do when their unfinished business if met, Jason doubled over at the sudden migraine.

He much prefers when unfinished business can be completed in one place instead of having to carry a phantom passenger with him.

Being tired—and now that he thinks about it, hungry—does not help his bad mood.

Another kid. Another victim of the fucking Joker.

Just how many more kids was the nutcase going to take out? How many more Robins? Because Jason’s seen pictures of the new kid—blurry and imprecise as anything to be found in a Gotham tabloid, but enough for someone with an eye for it to judge some facts—and he’s fucking tiny. It doesn’t matter that the girls in the Bowery where Jason lives say he’s meaner and more dangerous than any of the others. He’s smaller than Jason’s replacement—smaller than that girl even. What the hell is Bruce thinking?

Again, the temptation rises within him to hightail it over to the manor without warning and rip Bruce a series of new ones while he’s too busy gaping in shock to defend himself.

He doesn’t, though.

Knowing Bruce, he’d think it was a trick and beat the snot out of Jason, then stick him in a cell somewhere until he could confirm his identity. Jason’s been behind the door of enough cells to last him a lifetime, and that alone holds him back.

And who’s to say he doesn’t blame me for getting myself killed in the first place?

He knows that’s not likely, somewhere deeply buried inside, but it’s hard to shake the idea. Old insecurities return in full, memories of pity and concern and frustration, and his final moment waiting for his dad to save him and being disappointed.

And then being disappointed again when his wits returned to him and he discovered the Joker was still breathing. That Bruce didn’t deal with it—didn’t kill the fucker that killed Jason and shot Barbara.

He remembers that horrible week, wondering if she was going to live or die, and then being told she’d never walk again. Vibrant, ass-kicking and beautiful Batgirl with her wings forever clipped. In a way, he thinks he’s angrier about Barbara than himself. As Robin, he was always going to be a direct target of the Joker; Barbara wasn’t shot and tortured because she was Batgirl—she was shot and tortured because she was Commissioner Gordon’s daughter.

And after all that, Bruce just put the bastard back in Arkham, where he could have a taxpayer-paid vacation then break himself out again whenever he felt like it.

Something needs to be done about him, and B’s sure as fuck not going to do it.

With every step, Jason finds himself getting a little angrier. It’s a cool rage, different from the volatile mess of hormones and emotions he was as a kid, but it’s still there. Say what you want for the brain damage, but he was so out of it that it’s probably why John’s meditation techniques took when Bruce’s didn’t, tempering him.

He’s still prone to rash action, of course, but for something like this—something as serious as the Joker—he’s going to have to think it through. Somehow, he doubts it’s just going to be as easy as walking into the asylum and shivving the guy. And Jason’s not exactly keen on getting arrested, not after he worked his ass off to set himself up with an identity and a job and everything here in Gotham.

It bears thinking about, and he can’t do anything immediate about it now, so he’ll sleep on it. Something will come to him.

Jason turns the corner, intending to do just that as he heads for his apartment.

Well, it’s not really an apartment. It’s more office space over a bar on the border of Crime Alley and the Bowery. It’s just cheaper to rent an office than an apartment these days; with housing costs soaring, even property in the worst parts of Gotham are wildly out of his price range.

(He’s not a billionaire’s son anymore.)

Might stay out of my price range for a while. PIs don’t make much, to begin with, and my niche is kind of…specific.

Mediumship isn’t exactly a lucrative business, nor is paranormal investigation. Both jobs attract the crazies, but he knows from experience the ones who are legit will pay good money for his services.

Still, the whole set-up isn’t so bad.

He’s been getting his food from the local bodegas and the bar downstairs, and he’s sure after a bit of saving he’ll even be able to go out to the occasional sit-down restaurant when he gets a craving for something gourmet-ish (He doesn’t think about how Alfred could whip up a do that would put the cordon bleu to shame).

Jason sprung for a decent quality sleeper sofa, so it’s not like he’s kipping on the floor and the office even has a bathroom with a shower, which was a big plus when his landlady, Trista, showed it to him. The ambulance chaser who occupied the space before him said he used to work a lot and needed to be able to shower between jobs. He’d also said if he hadn’t been so keyed into his job, he’d have noticed his life falling apart around him and not shot himself three months ago.

Yeah, that was a fun one…

Since helping the previous owner move on and then taking up residence in the cramped office space, Jason’s made a point of warding the entire office against any other wandering spirits.

I happen to have very strict office hours, ta very much.

He pauses on the street leading to his place, his stomach growling again, and decides he’ll head into the bar for a pick-me-up beforehand. Trista, who also owns that place, doesn’t offer a lot in the way of food, but what she does is pretty good. Hers is the only place he’s been so far that can make decent fish and chips.

As he heads in that direction, he notices a familiar face standing on the corner across the street. He decides to make a quick detour.

“Rhonda,” he says with a grin, “you’re lookin’ especially gorgeous tonight.”

“Boy, I don’t need you to tell me shit I already know,” the woman tells him with a sniff. “And if you’re cruisin’ for a lay, I’ll tell you what I always tell you—you too young.”

“You’ve been tellin’ me that since I was twelve,” he grins.

Rhonda is the only person here in Gotham that knows he’s back, and that’s only because recognized him one night while he was heading back from a job. When he first landed himself on the streets as a kid, Rhonda was one of the girls who looked out for him and whatever other orphan was wandering around here at the time. After he was adopted by Bruce, he made a point of checking up on her as Robin, chasing off johns that tried to get over her time (even though she was already pretty good at managing that herself) and buying her food whenever he could. He never expected her to still be here when he got back, but she’d taken one look at him and cursed.

“I knew that story about you bein’ dead was bullshit,” she informed him as she took a drag of a cigarette. “What you do, run off on the rich man or some shit? He been tellin’ everyone you’re dead for years now.”

“To him, I am dead,” he’d replied, not wanting to go into it. “And everyone else better keep thinkin’ that too.”

“Ain’t gonna hear it from me,” she’d shrugged. “But why the fuck did you come back to this shithole?”

“Home’s home,” he had shrugged, and she’d nodded because she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Now, she sizes him up and considers his face. “Rough night, it looks like. You gettin’ in trouble again?”

“Nah, just exorcisin’ some…personal demons. Quiet night for you?”

“Mostly. There was a cape around couple minutes ago, though, so keep an eye out.”

She knows he tends to avoid them.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Christ, I hope it wasn’t Batman or Robin. Don’t think I could take seeing either of them tonight.

“It was Red. Came through to ask some questions.”

It takes him a moment to connect the name to the roster of vigilante’s he made himself memorize before coming back here. Red Robin is the one he suspects used to be his replacement, probably got graduated or replaced himself when the newest brat was put in the boots.

“He came here?” Jason asks. “Why?”

“Usual mask thing, comin’ down here to talk to the little people who might’ve seen somethin’.”

Jason makes a thoughtful noise, a bit impressed. He was always the only one who bothered coming down here; even Bruce avoided the minor crooks of the Alley after he started getting more invested in Gotham’s rogues.

“Red’s good people,” Rhonda says then, looking like she’s considering something. “He’s the only one that tries with us. Pays good money, buys food—sorta like Robin used to. And you know he’s doin’ it on purpose, ‘cause when he’s around the city, he usually sticks to Chinatown or Tricorner. That’s what the news say, anyway.”

Jason is again surprised. “Definitely goin’ out of his way then.”  

“Hm.”

He thinks about it a further minute and then shrugs. “Anything else interesting happening tonight? You need anything?”

“Yeah, for you to get off my corner so I can get to work,” Rhonda retorts. “Unlike you, I don’t like livin’ off bar food. Gotta be careful what you put in the temple, you know?”

“I dunno, give me a chili dog any day…”

Jason chuckles as she shoes him away, and then continues on his way to the bar. Maybe he’ll pick up something to go—

Just as he’s about to step into Trista’s bar, the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he feels a minor flicker of vertigo.

Something’s off.

Turning back to the street, he casts his eyes about, looking for anything out of ordinary to explain the sudden unease. Something nags at him, something that feels…hungry almost.

Since his senses are only attuned to the spirit of the dead, a hungry presence is never a good sign. Ghosts can sometimes become so enraged over their deaths, so tied to the mortal realm, that they become psychic vampires, attaching themselves to the living and feeding off of them like a parasite until they drop from exhaustion.

Fuck. Can’t leave one of those wandering around, if that’s what this is.

He gives an irritated groan and walks away from the bar, turning his focus on tracking the sensation. It’s not exactly calling out to him personally, but it’s still present enough for him to notice.

Jason digs into his pocket, winding his prayer beads around his wrist and checking if he’s still got any iron on him. Nothing big enough to make much difference, but for distraction if it comes to it.

As he reaches the end of the block, Jason catches sight of the cape first.

Damn, I don’t miss the days of having to wear gear like that.

Because that cowl thing the vigilante is sporting is almost as much a tragedy as the green leotard Jason used to sport (they weren’t panties, fuck you very much, they just looked that way—as if Alfred would allow someone to go outside the house in just their underwear). And the cape is so thick it gives him no idea as to the stature or body behind it.

At least this Red Robin guy is smart enough to have a full body-armor suit instead of pixie-boots and a t-shirt.

Might be the only thing he’s smart about, judging by his company.

The too-perfect-looking young man that beckons the vigilante to follow him into the alleyway is all cold blue eyes, sharp smile, and sleek movement. And even if Jason couldn’t read the malevolent aura emanating from the direction of the two men (and that’s a doozy, especially if it’s coming from only one individual), he’s seen that look before in eyes just as cold.

He knows the tactics of an incubus seeking its next meal, and this one seems to have decided it has a taste for vigilante tonight.  

This isn’t really Jason’s thing—incubi are low-level demons, more John’s area of expertise than his. Getting involved would mean willingly crossing paths with one of Gotham’s masks, which he’s been taking pains not to do since returning.

But he’s also not allowing any kind of unrestrained feeding and killing to happen on his turf. And these darkest, dingiest parts of Gotham have always been his. Even when he was trailing after the big Bat.

Plus, this guy is Red Robin.

Jason hasn’t had any particular interest in the growing number of masks cropping up in Gotham over the years, but this guy’s obviously a bird. Which means Jason has a kind of personal connection to him. Call it brothers-in-arms or something poetic like that, even if they’ve never met.

Also, the way incubi feed…no one deserves to have that happen to them, especially in a filthy alley like this one. Jason’s always had concern over consent issues, and with incubi, the way they get that consent literally straddles the line far too closely for his taste. This Red Robin might be Bat-trained, but unless he’s taken a master class in the occult (doubtful, considering Bruce’s distrust of anything resembling magic), he’s being led away like a lamb to the slaughter.

Probably he’s already been ensnared by the thing’s powers and doesn’t even realize it. Like a baby bird in front of a snake.

Jason sighs in defeat and rolls his shoulders in preparation for what he knows is going to be an unpleasant interlude.

“Time to be a hero,” he mutters to himself and stalks toward the shadowy alley where the two figures have disappeared.

⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytimbingo2019 #JayTim #fanfic #jaytim fic #jason todd #tim drake #original characters #prompt: supernatural #drama #mystery #angst #incubus #paranormal investigator

[believerindaydreams]

listing to port

did anyone want an author’s commentary for my fic “The List”?

well, here’s one anyway. MacGyver and FL comments below.

(notes short enough to be readable. I did try keeping notes for Fulgent Engineering, but those are scarily long now.) 

The thought process was simple enough: I'd already written "A little honest extortion", where Jack figures out he's heading for the Neath, and I'd done the introduction to "Vertere", where he meets up with MacGyver. All I had to do here was get from one to the other.

I've always been very fond of "Brian's Return," and Jack is a materialist; the concept meshed very nicely with his character. He doesn't know much about the Neath, isn't specifically aware that he's going to be trapped in a whole different century, but he does know that what he brings along might be the last he'll ever see of Surface culture. With the additional complication of making purchases for a friend/fellow spy/something-or-other who he rightly suspects to have left his old life behind with nothing more than a couple of good knives and an extra shirt.

(I have not yet settled on a Correspondence shorthand for "Fulgent Engineering", but a sigil for "the understood loss; and a price beyond" is a strong candidate. The state of the Tireless Mechanic's Surface jacket in "Alike in Dignity" was a precisely considered detail.)

SAKs

Well, yeah. The folks on MacGyver Online, anti-slash though they may be, have done a terrific job of cataloguing minor details in the series; I'd have had to find another and less specific way of writing this scene if they hadn't listed all the SAK statistics for the Informed Clerk to spout off.

Jack's got the gant-coloured knife. Which is initially mistaken for a Spartan (because that's what they used while shooting "Serenity"), but as per the Parabola sequences in "Fulgent Engineering", is actually a genuine 19th century article. Or a dreamed-up version of the real thing, at least. Wonder what happens when Mac- or his Reflection- gets it back.

When Jack started thinking of people in Adjective-Noun formation...I don't know. I suspect, though, that it's a little more common in the Fallen London universe than just in the Neath.

Camping Gear

It just tickled me to suggest that Jack's reaction to safety gear is to say "Safety? Who needs safety?" I'm tempted to write the Doomed Camping Trip in which all of Mac's improvisations happen entirely because Jack's a cheapskate and everything he buys is broken.

Guitar

Over in Tanista's Neath stories, Penny Parker is playing Lois Lane on "The New Adventures of Lois and Clark". This is a sound suggestion and I went with it.

Jack's taste in bad newspapers, aside from setting up the later punchline, is probably something that'll be relevant either in "Deep Romantic" or "Vertere" in good time. Even if it's only as a joke.

Watches

Pete doesn't know nearly as much as he could about the Neath (and almost none of what he does know made it to MacGyver; Pete, much to his regret, was hoping it'd be a case of 'least said, soonest mended'). But he is, at minimum, aware that there's an Underzee.

Which is more that Jack did, but he can take a hint.

Tape deck

Heh. I went to a lot of trouble chewing over which one would be best.

Jack is being an optimistic idiot, of course; you can't recharge the Sony WM-F107 without several hours of sunlight. Of course, you can also carry sunlight in a box in the Neath, so he's lucked out there. (It also has a battery hookup, which Mac will no doubt be able to sort out.)

Making Jack a draft dodger seemed an obvious opposition, once I'd had the idea to bring in Toberman (he's from the MacGyver episode "The Spoilers": seemed the most likely candidate among Mac's friends to give a crafting hobby to.) And it seems to work pretty well for his character anyway.

Cassettes

And the Grateful Dead backstory let me set up Jack as someone who's been involved in bootlegs for ages (the tales of bootlegger Grateful Dead fans are something epic).

I've listened to all of these musicians at one point or another while writing "Ecstasy". Helps me get into the mood for writing these two. The epic-length "Brothers in Arms" tape will be immediately understandable to anyone who has ever seen that episode of Miami Vice with Bruce in it.

Clothing

More borrows from the official forums again. Plus a chance to follow up on Cynthia (several stories). I like Cynthia.

Another fic concept for some later date, Mac going on the run. I know I already did that a bit with my non-Ecstasy story "here is a memory", but that was more an exercise in how far it's possible to push my protagonist before he ceases to be recognisable.

Come to think of it, perhaps I could combine it with the Camping Trip From Hell as per above.

Guitar redux

Penny writes herself. I just put it to keyboard.

Books

So. Desert Island Discs stipulation: no one gets to pick the Bible or Shakespeare for their one book, because that'd be dull.

Plus my awareness of Tolstoy's opinion of the Bard (as mentioned in a very entertaining essay by Orwell), plus the idea of Murdoc implementing a plan that would have terrified Mac but hardly fazes Jack...the chain of thought here was pretty smooth.

Chow

For the record: I am completely unable to imagine Jack as a Seeker in any way, shape, or form. Besides, the rhythm of the fic worked better when I underplayed something.

Also, there's some character development happening. Not that Jack's exactly pleased about this.

Gemstones

Nikki Carpenter's adventure as a gemstone expert was from her first story, "Fire and Ice". Easy thought process. And she gets to point out all the practical concerns Jack ought to be considering, which I'm not on the grounds of being too dull to include. Writing is also about knowing what *not* to write.

Plane

Jack Dalton flies planes. This is as integral to the character as engineering for the Innocent Spy. Therefore: ouch.

He has an...unusual relationship with Kate (see "Rock the Cradle" for the details on this- even if you're a Failbetter fan and ignoring all these MacGyver continuity comments, watch it anyway, because it's hilarious. Lots of banter, the Innocent Spy commits atrocities with duck tape. And despite the plot hinging on Jack's heterosexual shagging, it also manages to be very gay.

Like, very gay.)

Duck tape

Natural bookend, if you're starting with the SAKs.

Another scene inspired by the "Deep Romantic" plotting with Tanista; Jack has a mum, we had to dispose of the mum to get him down to the Neath, how shall we get rid of her? Witness protection! (Consistent with the MacGyver episode that she was in: "Ma Dalton," funnily enough). 

I think this scene was about the right note of sentiment and a mutual acknowledgement that, deep down, both of them are pretty selfish so-and-sos who just aren't interested in the other's life. Like mother, like son. Also, Nikki's pretty smart.

Spent ages agonising over the ending. I may yet rewrite it. But the quiet shift of emphasis, from the stuff he's been accumulating all story to who he's expecting to find?

I confess, I am rather proud of that part...

#macgyver #fallen london #fic

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who, not either of our boys!), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro.

Author’s Note: In which Jason is this close to being DONE. And Tim’s a little shit.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Jason is silent a while, obviously conflicted.

Tim and Safiya watch him get up and stand by the window of the room; his fingers twitch, then curl into fists of what Tim imagines to be frustration.

Safiya doesn’t miss the motion, and her expression grows concerned. She takes a longer look at Jason, studying him in greater depth, from the visible callouses on his knuckles to the scars at the corner of his mouth and beneath his hairline.

“You’re not…” she begins, and Jason turns to acknowledge her. “You’re not actually a mobster, are you?”

To Tim’s surprise, Jason’s mouth twitches.

“Not this year,” he says with a hint of humor.

Safiya is clearly confused, and Tim fights down a mental groan at Jason’s usually flippant attitude choosing to manifest in the most inopportune moments.

Good thing we’re all such good liars.

“Jason’s a former stuntman,” he tells her, once again grasping for the first plausible thing that comes to mind. He makes a mental note to add that to whatever false background they’ll inevitably have to create. “But he’s been working with our family for years.”

Jason smiles now, but it’s an unpleasant and edged thing. “That’s one way to put it.”

Tim ignores him, instead slips into his charming-CEO persona.

“As you can imagine, we deal with a lot of threats given the Wayne Foundation’s public funding of Batman Inc. Sometimes we require body-doubles when traveling, and Jason happens to be of similar height and weight to Bruce.”

“Right,” Jason says robotically. “Bodyguard to Bruce Wayne. It’s an experience. Guy has as many enemies as Batman does. It’s uncanny.”

Tim shoots him a dirty look, which luckily Safiya misses as she sizes Jason up again. When she turns back to Tim, she furrows her brow. “Is that not weird for you?”

“Weird?”

“With you two being together,” she clarifies. “And with him looking so much like your father.”

Jason makes a huffing noise; Tim sort of hopes he’s choking.

At some point, I’m going to have to look into why people so easily buy the story of us being ‘together’.

“Bruce isn’t my father,” Tim says with a bit of a grimace. “Neither biologically, nor legally as of last year.”

“I see,” Safiya says slowly, not looking like she entirely buys it. “Didn’t I read an article about you being engaged? To a woman?”

Tim sighs. “Vicki Vale has a lot to answer for. As I’ve said numerous times, Tam Fox is my assistant and my friend. We were never engaged—is there a reason we’re analyzing my personal life right now?”

“Why not? We’ve been analyzin' mine all night,” Jason says. “I think I like it better when it’s you, babybird.” The nickname is said with an inflection that could be teasing or mocking depending on the context. “Besides, you’ve got all that practice.”

Well, if you want to play that game.

“A good thing, too, or I’d be the one with a surprise baby,” Tim replies and is partially gratified to see Jason’s brows draw together at the dig. His smile widens and he addresses Safiya, “Clearly we’ve all found ourselves in a situation we couldn’t have possibly foreseen, so the best thing we can do is put our heads together and come up with a solution. But I think we’ve had enough to process this evening and rushing such an important decision would be unwise.”

“That might be the first sensible thing I’ve heard since I got here,” she agrees. “First of all, I want to make sure Luísa has somewhere to stay until that is sorted out. Will you be taking her home tonight?”

“No,” Jason says.

“The hospital still has to get the results of the paternity test before any custody or guardianship decisions can be discussed,” Tim elaborates. “That should be a day or two. I think the most pressing concern right now is what to do about Isabel.”

Safiya becomes somber once again. “Yes. She should not be left here longer than needed. I have a key to her apartment. I can look around and see if she had any kind of arrangements or wishes. If she did, she never mentioned them, but it’s possible.”

“That would be helpful,” Tim agrees. “Let me know if you find anything.” He digs into his pocket for a business card and a pen, scribbling his personal phone number on it. “You can reach me here. Whether you find anything helpful or not, call me. We’ll have to arrange transportation for her remains. The hospital will only hold her a week. And we’ll need to notify her doctor if she had one, and call the country coroner.”

“You’re a little bit too informed about how to do this for someone so young…”

“I lost both my parents before I was sixteen. It’s become an unfortunate routine.”

“I’m sorry,” she offers quietly.

“Thank you,” Tim acknowledges. “I understand that you might want to notify her other friends, ask them to contact others to get the word out, but would it be possible to keep this to yourself until we have a better idea of what to do for Luisa?”

“Of course. I’ll also call her work and let them know the news.”

“Also, if you could see to all the relevant paperwork for Isabel, that would be extremely helpful,” Tim continues. “As I said before, you probably have more of an idea of these things than we do.” Or at least more than we should. “As for outstanding balances, I’ll cover them—”

“No, I’ll do that,” Jason interrupts. “It should come from me.”

“It should,” Safiya agrees with a sharp nod. Probably she means it for different reasons; Tim suspects Jason just wants the least amount of Wayne money as possible involved in this. “I would also…if possible, I would like to say goodbye to her.”

“By all means,” Tim says. “If you want to do that now, I’ll let the doctor know—”

“I doubt I’ll have any trouble this time around,” she says, waving him away. “Besides, I think you have your hands full with these two.” She stands, then goes to lean over the baby once more, gently caressing her head. She says something Tim doesn’t understand, and then straightens up. She nods at Jason and Tim. “I will be in touch.”

And then she’s gone.

As soon as they’re alone, Tim rounds on Jason.

“Is there a reason you’re treating all of this as a joke?”

“Are we sure it’s not?” Jason asks with a grin that doesn’t dispel the coolness of his eyes. “I’m still waitin' for someone to jump out and yell ‘April Fools’.”

“You’re about a month late for that. And considering the fact you’re legally dead, you could be a little less cavalier with the attention-grabbing non-sequiturs.”

“What, like you? Treatin' this whole thing like it’s a business meeting? This is a person we’re talkin' about—two people.” His gaze flicks nervously to the infant. “And you’re actin' like they’re pieces on a board.”

“Because right now, they are,” Tim snaps. “And because someone has to be getting ahead of this thing. Surprise is no excuse to not have contingency plans.”

“Jesus Christ, but he did a number on you,” Jason groans. “You sound exactly like him.”

“Contrary to popular belief, that’s not always a bad thing. Or would you rather I be channeling Dick right now?”

Jason's entire body goes even tauter than it's been since Safiya burst in. "I swear to god if you hug me right now, I will punch you.”

Tim finds himself wondering if that might not be a good idea; a fight might be better for Jason than a shot of adrenaline.

Or it will land me in a different wing of this hospital. So maybe not.

He’s saved from replying when there’s a knock on the door, and the nurse comes in.

“Visiting hours will be over at nine o’clock,” she says. “If one of you wants to stay the night, I can arrange—”

“We’re not stayin',” Jason says immediately. Noticing her taken-aback expression, he adds, “There’s a bunch of stuff that needs doin'. For the, uh, baby.”

“Of course. Would you like to feed her one last time yourselves? Or we can take care of her in the nursery.”

Tim can see it on Jason’s face that he’s not keen on the exercise. Still, that same business-like set to his shoulders from earlier returns and he allows the nurse to go fetch a bottle of formula.

“Might as well know how to do this myself,” he mutters, almost defensive when he meets Tim’s gaze, and hesitantly picks up the infant on his own.

“I didn’t say anything.”

The entire tableau is so incongruous with what Tim knows of the other man that he’s half-tempted to bring his phone up and snap a few secret shots, if only as evidence. Somehow, he suspects Jason wouldn’t take kindly to it, and whatever goodwill he’s gained tonight will vanish faster than Batman after a meeting with Commissioner Gordon.

“We should go back to my place,” Tim suggests after a while. When Jason tilts his head in question, he adds, “To get the room ready. For when she’s cleared to go.”

“Right.”

“Do you want to pick up anything from where you’re staying? Or I can just order something for you online and have it shipped—”

“I can buy my own damn clothes if I need to,” Jason grouses. “I don’t need help packin’ a bag.”

“Fair. But I’m still driving you.” Jason makes a face. “Don’t give me that look. Are you seriously thinking you’re clear-headed enough to drive right now?”

“I’ve had worse. Besides, I can get a cab or take the subways.”

“You have no cash on you,” Tim reminds him. “And you’re still processing. I bet you’ll get stuck in your head and miss your stop.” He gestures out the window toward the parking lot. “Just tell me where you want to go and I’ll take you there.”

“The problem with that is you’ll know where I live.”

“It’s funny you think I don’t already.”

Jason scowls. “At some point, we’re having a conversation about you knowin' stuff about me that you shouldn’t. It’s creepy.”

“Sure. I’ll put it on the agenda under ‘stealing other people’s costumed identities’ and ‘using deadly force’. Should be fun.”

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?"

"I'm the asshole who's helping you out, so I'd watch your mouth." Tim pauses, considers, and then adds, "Actually, you should do that anyway. You're holding a baby."

"I hate you."

Next Chapter

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