Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason huffed to himself as he stalked towards Crime Alley. A week back in Gotham and he was only now returning to his roots, having spent the last week stalking the Bats to see what they were up to. And frankly, he found himself disappointed. 

Dickiebird was constantly switching between Bludhaven and Gotham, never properly giving either city the amount of time they needed the vigilante for. He’d moved on from the Teen Titans, allowing newer, younger members to fill the holes he’d left behind. And even more irritating, was that the rest of the Titans allowed it despite the fact that they’d treated Jason like he was an invasive species when Dick had first introduced him to them. 

Bruce was still Bruce, still putting murderers and psychopaths back in cells that he knew wouldn’t hold them no matter how much money he poured into the facilities. Joker got out fucking monthly and killed dozens, even hundreds each time he escaped, yet Batman still refused to kill the clown. Dozens of villains, each with a rap sheet as long as Jason was tall at the minimum and Bruce still couldn’t bring himself to save lives by ending theirs. Even worse, as if letting the Rogues (and specifically the Joker) run free, he also allowed and encouraged a new kid to take up the Robin costume. The same uniform that Jason had fucking died in. He could still remember the moment of terrified, hopeless acceptance when he shut his eyes after watching the timer on the bomb tick down. Jason, Bruce’s son, had died in the uniform and Bruce had still given it to another kid as though Jason meant nothing. 

And of course, that brought him to the Replacement. 

To itty bitty Timmy Drake, whose parents were both alive and well, who would inherit a multi million dollar company with or without Bruce’s presence in his life, and the one who got the Robin title after Jason’s death. The one who replaced Jason as though his life and his death had meant absolutely nothing. 

Jason could barely think of the kid without feeling a swell of green filling his mind with rage and hate and pain. But that didn’t matter. He’d get his revenge on the brat for stealing his position (in the uniform AND in the family) but he needed to be quiet at first. He needed to establish himself as a threat and the Red Hood name would be perfect for that. He’d wait until Batman was worried about him, wait until Batman was hunting for him before going to hurt the kid. To make sure that Batman was really paying attention this time. He’d get Bruce to send the boy away, just like he always did. Hoping that if he hid them somewhere else they’d be safe, but oh no, Jason would lock down Titan’s Tower and beat his Replacement until he WISHED he’d died-

So. 

Suffice it to say that Jason had a plan. 

Once Bruce was hunting him, Jason would take the clown and force Bruce to choose. To finally make the decision between his own family and the fucking Rogues he fought against on a near fucking daily schedule. Would Jason prefer to kill the clown himself?

Sure.

Yeah. 

Just a bit.

Of fucking course, he would! The clown had fucking killed him! That laugh and question haunted Jason’s dreams, making it damn near impossible to sleep at night for fear of coming back to consciousness with a crowbar bashing down on him. Of realizing that everything he was going through was just a dream he’d made up while blacking out between strikes. 

Which hurts more, forehand? Or backhand?

The Joker’s cruel, gleaming eyes hunted him from the corners of his room on worse nights, when Jason woke up screaming or when he simply couldn’t settle down to sleep. It was the clown’s fault that Jason had woken up in his fucking coffin. That he’d been trapped in that velvet prison (padded walls that he could scratch at and scream against all he wanted, but the only one who’d get hurt was him) and was going to repeat it the whole time, realizing that he’d just passed out from lack of oxygen. 

So yes, Jason wanted to kill the Joker himself. 

(But there was still a small, glowing piece of him that begged, whispered for his Dad to save him. Please, B, please! Help me-)

So. Jason would give B a chance. One last chance to fix what he hadn’t for the past four years where Jason had been dead or with the League. Perhaps, with his resurrected son standing in front of him with the Joker present and unable to fight back, Bruce would finally kill the clown. Jason would give him that chance. 

But the entire plan hinged on him making a name for himself in the underworld. On him being a dangerous individual, enough that Batman actively took notice and made moves to bring him in. 

Which meant that Jason first needed to find someplace safe to stay. 

And where better than Crime Alley, the one part of the city that all the Bats (save Robin for some fucking reason) avoided like the plague?

Except Jason turned the corner of the street, right about to enter what was considered the main entrance to the Alley, when his feet stumbled to a stop. He blinked, jaw slack at the sight of what was sitting right fucking smack dab in the middle of the street. 

Metal gleamed, polished to a brilliant shine. Golden fingers stretched down as though offering to help someone up after they’d fallen to their feet, the metal gleaming in a way that Jason easily recognized as a sign of frequently being touched or grabbed. The uniform was distinctive. Rain boots covering his feet, shorts giving him more modesty than stupid Dickiebird, thick gloves protecting his hands from any blades, fire, or other threats he might have to handle. His cape flowed in a nonexistent breeze, hair artfully frozen in metallic motion. The domino mask obscured his identity, but despite the strange outfit and mask his smile was bright and warm. A smile that reassured whoever stood before him, whoever he was lifting up. Jason let his eyes fall to the base of the statue, tilting his head to read the words inscribed. 

IN MEMORIA, AETERNUS ES.

“First time seeing it?” Jason turned, sharply glancing over at the man who was leaning out of his unbarred and open window. Jason rested his hand over where one of his guns were, earning a snort from the older man. “Relax, kid, I ain’t gonna hurt you. Not in front of the Robin statue, at least.”

Jason turned around, staring in blank shock as he realized that no, he was seeing that right. There was a fucking statue. Of him. Of him as Robin in the entrance to Crime Alley. A statue of him that was proud, clean, and shiny, despite the fact that Crime Alley was notorious for being messy, dirty, covered in graffiti or blood or some mixture of other assorted fluids. A statue of him that practically glowed.

“Who-” Jason coughed sharply- “Who was behind…this??” 

The old man raised an eyebrow at Jason before turning to look back at the statue with a small frown on his face. If Jason didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked sad. Or maybe worried. But what Crime Alley resident would be worried or sad for someone who could build a fucking statue??

“Robin was. The newer one.”

Jason mentally blue screened for a few moments. 

REPLACEMENT was the one behind the statue? Behind creating a memorial for Robin? When he was the one who dared to put on the colors after Jason died in them??

Green clouded his vision with seething rage and hatred. Did the Replacement think that he was forgiven because he made a single statue of Jason? That he was forgiven while he ran around in Jason’s colors? It was becoming increasingly hard to focus with the green hissing poisonous words in his ears, but Jason forced himself to snap back into control as the man continued speaking, still looking at the statue. 

“We didn’t want him here, when he first showed up. He’d interrupt muggings and all parties would turn around to shoot at him and try to keep him away. He wasn’t our Robin, but he was wearing the colors regardless. And everyone knew. Y’know? What happened to Robin. Joker was so fucking proud of himself, bragging to anyone with functioning ears that he’d ‘shot the birdie out of the sky’ and ‘clipped Robin’s wings for good’.”

The old man huffed and paused for a moment, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, taking a drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. Jason watched him for a moment, waiting for the man to continue speaking. The old man swallowed and sighed.

“None of us here wanted a Robin that wasn’t ours. We didn’t want a new Robin, not when- not when he’d been one of us. Oh, people argued and claimed that he couldn’t be a street rat, but he knew the way things were too well. He knew how desperate people got, he knew what it was like to be hungry or scared or cold. He was ours. And we didn’t- we didn’t even have anything to mourn him with.”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked curiously. The man snorted. 

“Batman never revealed Robin’s body, though that’s not really a surprise. But there was nothing else said about the Boy Wonder. And then Batman became violent, more aggressive. Shoplifting from a fucking grocery store could get you beaten bad enough that you were sent to the hospital and left with a permanent injury. Assuming the hospital even took the guys from around here,” the man said with a sneer. Jason went cold. 

He’d-

Bruce-

Bruce had what? 

Bruce had been beating people within an inch of their life or leaving them with permanent injuries for minor felonies? The sort of treatment the old man was describing was what Bruce typically reserved for the Rogues. For people like Bane, Professor Pyg, fucking Scarecrow. Not-

Not shoplifters.

Especially not if they were from Crime Alley shoplifting from a grocery store.

B knew those people only did it because they were desperate. Because they were starving, or their kids were starving, and they didn’t have the money to help. Didn’t have the money to get things properly. 

And yet he’d hurt them that badly?

“Then Robin showed up. And Batman started slowing down, calming down. Fewer people sent to the hospital. Fewer people looking over their shoulders at night, terrified that the Bat would catch them doing so much as fucking jaywalking. The city relaxed a bit, with the new Robin. But even if he was helping, just by being there…we didn’t want him here. Not here, where our Robin had come from. Where our Robin couldn’t even properly be remembered. There were some attempts to make a mural of Robin, our Robin, but the Rogues…the Rogues didn’t take kindly to that. They destroyed them every time. Whether it was Bane busting the wall down or fucking Joker painting his own face overtop, eventually…we gave up. We gave up on giving him any kind of real memorial.” He took another drag from his cigarette and blew it out, eyes pained and guilty in a way that made Jason uncomfortable meeting his eyes. 

“So how’d that lead to…this?” Jason asked, gesturing at the statue. At the beautiful silver shining metal statue that practically glowed in the dim lights of the alley. It looked fucking ethereal and beautiful and Jason hated it.

(Lies, lies, thank you, thank you, for REMEMBERING me. For not forgetting me for not leaving me behind, thank you!)

“About a month after his first appearance in Gotham, the kid showed up here. Had Superboy carry a massive fucking block of granite into the Alley and set it in the middle of the walkway. Once the kid was satisfied with where it was, he settled down and started carving it. It took weeks of him slipping away from Batman and Nightwing before we realized what he was making. What those little papers he kept glancing down at as he worked were. He brought photos. Pictures of our Robin. Once we realized what he was doing, most people round here wanted to get involved. Wanted to help. And Robin welcomed it. Gave us pictures that he’d been using for reference of what Robin, the old one, looked like.” The man reached down, out of Jason’s sight. Jason tensed for a moment before relaxing as the old man brought his wallet into view, flipping it open and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He held it out towards Jason, who accepted the paper and unfolded it. 

Jason froze, eyes wide as he took in the picture. It was him, as Robin, balancing on a roof edge with a brilliant, wide grin on his face. Batman was almost completely cropped out of the picture, but despite that Jason could just barely make out an ever so faint, blink and you’ll miss it smile lighting up B’s face. Robin was lit by the city lights below, appearing to glow in the photo as he extended one arm towards Batman with a bright smile as an invitation. 

Jason didn’t remember this. He- why didn’t he REMEMBER this?

“Then- then what happened to the granite?” Jason forced himself to choke out, folding up the picture and handing it (gently, carefully, like it was a baby bird being returned to the nest) back to the old man. His eyes darkened and his lip curled with fury. 

“Fucking Black Mask showed up and blew it up. It was only halfway finished, and he bragged about it for weeks before Robin showed up at his hideout and beat him bad enough he had to go to the hospital before being transferred to Black Gate. I’ll be honest, that was the tipping point for the alley residents. We still didn’t like Robin, not when he’d replaced our boy, but…we could respect him. We could acknowledge that he respected our Robin the same as we did. And then? Robin showed up and started cleaning up the rubble, cleaning up the granite. We helped, giving him our condolences. Kid had put a shit ton of effort into the statue, and it all went away with a single explosion. Honestly, that seemed to be what pissed him off the most about its destruction. Not that it was destroyed, not that Black Mask was the one who did it, no, he was most upset that it had been blown up.” 

Jason paused, pushing back the green at the realization that popped into his head. Oh. He knew that it would be targeted sooner or later. He knew. But he was upset because it had been BLOWN UP, the same way Joker blew up the warehouse Jason was trapped in.

The green flickered and some of the whispers disappeared at that revelation. 

Jason’s attention was soon grabbed by the man continuing to speak. “But then, once the granite was all cleared out, he called in Superboy again. This time it was a giant block of marble. Pure fucking white marble with beautiful black and gold lines webbing through it. Everyone knew that shit had to be expensive. But the kid just picked up his chisel and hammer, and started working again. We were…a lot more hesitant to help this time. Marble ain’t really a stone we’d gotten to work with before that, but Robin just told us there was no time like the present to learn and kept working. Some of the residents have even managed to make artwork that’s gone to museums because they had a chance to work with him.”

“Someone destroyed it again?” Jason asked, glancing back at the statue. The very clearly metal and not marble statue. The old man nodded. He took another drag of his cigarette before flicking the ash off the end. A dark look grew on the man’s face as he glared at the ground. 

“Joker did. He didn’t take kindly to a statue of the kid he killed gettin’ put up, even if it was in the worst part of town. He came while Nightwing was in Bludhaven and Batman was out on some Justice League mission in space. Took a crowbar to the statue, cackling about how it was ‘just as much fun the second time’.” Jason swallowed down the nausea at the image. It was easy to picture Joker happily smashing a crowbar against the statue and pretending it was Jason he was hitting all over again. 

The insane clown probably asked the statue the same questions too.

“Then the kid showed up. Everyone knew Robin wasn’t supposed to engage with the A list Rogues without Batman to help him. There’d been a massive fight about it a while back after the kid took on the Riddler by himself. Robin attacked Joker with a fury we’ve never seen before, not from him. The thing is, all the Robins are different. The first Robin was flippy, quick, and as hard to hit as a fucking jumping spider. The second Robin was strong, hit hard, and wasn’t afraid to take dirty shots at whoever he was fighting. But this Robin? The current Robin isn’t as strong as the second, he’s not as quick as the first. And against Joker, Harley Quinn, and a dozen of Joker’s goons? Kid went down hard, but at least he went down fighting.” Jason stiffened, whirling to face the man properly. 

“He died?? Joker killed another Robin??” he whispered, horrified. The green was nothing more than an echo in his head now, before swelling into an incandescent FURY at the idea that Bruce let the Joker kill another Robin after Jason. But the old man simply shook his head slowly. 

“No. Joker said he wanted a new toy to play with, so they took the kid. Alive. Robin…Robin disappeared.” Jason stared at the man in horror. 

“No one- did Nightwing not…”

“Batman came back from space three days later. Nightwing was seen in the city four days after. And despite that, it still took them three weeks after the attack on the statue before Joker was put back in Arkham. Even then, Robin didn’t show up for another two months. He was shaky and jumpy when he did, with Nightwing and Batman practically hovering over him and yanking him away from most fights. It took another month before he finally managed to slip away and come back to the alley.”

Jason swallowed thickly. He knew exactly how overbearing and irritating Bruce could be when he benched Robin or when he insisted that Robin couldn’t join fights. It was frustrating, humiliating, and left Jason feeling like a disappointment every time it had happened, especially after he’d been sent to his room for arguing with Bruce about it. He could only imagine how frustrating those two months would have been for his Replacement only to immediately get dragged away at the sign of any real fights. 

“What happened?” Jason asked. 

“The kid told us to keep the marble. That we could do whatever we wanted with it. Most of us…we thought he was giving up. That he’d finally realized that you couldn’t make a statue for someone the Rogues hated. There’s a reason we don’t have statues of Batman or Nightwing in the city, after all. We all took pieces. Just…something to remember the attempt by. Tainted, broken, and destroyed as it was, it was still something for us to remember our Robin by.” The old man dropped his cigarette on the ground, staring at it despondently for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “And then? Then one day a fucking spaceship came flying overhead and lowered that statue to the ground. Superboy, Wonder Girl, Impulse, and Robin, all working together to get it perfectly into position. We couldn’t believe it. The kid had apparently decided that stone wasn’t durable enough, so he went and made a fully metal statue instead. And whatever that thing’s made of? It ain’t normal metal. There have been over fifty fucking Rogue attacks on the statue and there’s not a scratch left from any of them. Hell, I watched as Bane tried to deck the statue while pumped on Venom. You know what happened? He shattered his hand and arm. Most of the bones in his hand had to be completely replaced.”

Jason’s jaw dropped and he turned to look at the statue again, searching for any sign that the man was telling the truth. Sure, there were substances that Bane couldn’t punch through even when he was on Venom, but they were few and far between. More than that, something as thin and delicate looking as the statue should’ve at least been dented.

Yet sure enough, there wasn’t even a scratch on the thing. 

“It’s not hollow either. Joker tried to bring in a crane and a wrecking ball to move it. The wrecking ball split in half when it crashed into the thing and didn’t even dent it. The crane snapped and collapsed after trying to pick it up. Robin admitted to us that he’d wanted the stone statues because they were something that we, the residents of Crime Alley, could assist in. He’d seen the attempts we’d made at giving Robin a memorial. Showed us pictures of some of the attempts from before they’d been destroyed. He’d wanted to give us something we could all chip in on, that we could all work on together to remember our Robin. Something to rally behind, y’know? But after the Joker’s attack, he took it personally and decided to make a fucking invincible statue of Robin. It’s the only statue of any of the Bats in all of Gotham,” the old man said proudly. Jason swallowed thickly before turning to look back at the statue. At the eight foot tall statue of him. 

Him when he was so much brighter, happier, more free. Childish, innocent despite all he’d gone through, and determined to keep going higher. 

(Back when Robin still gave him magic.)

“Wait, that’s only about maybe a two-year period covered. And there have only been fifty Rogue attacks?” he asked curiously, turning to look at the old man. The man grinned dangerously, teeth flashing in the light. 

“Well, with the statue finished, Robin completed his job. The residents around here had something to rally behind, just like he wanted. And hey, if the Rogues come to our homes with bombs and guns and threats, then it is our legal right to defend ourselves and our property with lethal force. Batman can’t get on a civilian’s case when they kill a Rogue in self defense, right?” Jason chuckled. 

“No, I suppose he can’t,” he said thoughtfully. “How’d the Bats react? I mean…they had to have had some reaction, right?”

“Robin stops by on a biweekly basis. Always brings a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, daffodils, and white roses. He leaves the bouquet at the feet of the statue before reading a few novels aloud for about an hour or so. Lots of kids in the Alley have started quoting Shakespeare and Jane Austen because of him. It’s weird, but somehow it feels right.” Jason’s eyes widened and he fought back a blush at the thought of Timothy reading Jason’s favorite novels to his statue and the Alley kids. He certainly wasn’t about to think about how apparently the Alley kids enjoyed it enough to quote those books too.

“What about the others? Nightwing? Batman?” Jason asked, the green in the back of his mind perking up at the mention of the two. The old man’s smile faded slightly from his face. 

“Nightwing ended up following Robin here one night. Showed up saying he was there to pick Robin up only to freeze at the sight of the statue. Looked like he’d seen a ghost. He took off and left Robin behind, vanishing into the night. He came back a few weeks later, when Robin and Batman were busy somewhere else before apologizing to the statue. Kept talking about how he should’ve been there and that he should’ve been a better brother and taken care of you, Little Wing.” Jason stiffened at the nickname, eyes widening. The old man sighed. “Nightwing hasn’t been back since then, at least not very close. He shows up sometimes to watch over Robin and the kids during their readings, but otherwise he avoids the statue entirely.”

“...and Batman?” Jason whispered, the green having gone silent at the mental image of Nightwing kneeling with his face to the pavement in front of the statue, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Batman…he drops by once a year. Same day, same time. Sticks around for about an hour before leaving. Doesn’t bring anything, doesn’t say anything, just stands and stares. There were a few times when it was still fairly new that Robin or Nightwing had to pull him away to keep him from standing there all night. Best the residents can figure? We think he shows up on the day Robin died. Visits his memorial instead of his grave, you know?” Jason swallowed thickly, eyes widening and the green desperately thrashing in the back of his head, trying to force Jason to remember that he’d been forgotten. That he’d been replaced.

And yet despite that, he was standing in front of physical evidence that it wasn’t true. That Talia had lied to him. That Bruce and Dick hadn’t forgotten him, hadn’t replaced him. 

Slowly the green faded and Jason turned to look at the old man properly. 

“When is Robin supposed to visit next?” he asked quietly. The man studied him for a moment before smiling softly at Jason. 

“Nine days from now. You want a private chat with him or just to see for yourself?” Jason swallowed thickly. 

“A private chat would be appreciated, thank you.”

...

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

Robin landed with a soft thump and the hissing whirr of a grappling line to announce his presence. The area around the statue was silent and suspiciously empty, but he approached the foot of the statue regardless and laid the bouquet carried delicately in his arms on the statue’s feet. As Robin reached to pull something out from beneath his cape, Jason cleared his throat behind the vigilante. 

In the blink of an eye, Robin had whirled around to face Jason, though he surprisingly hadn’t drawn his bo staff or a batarang. He eyed Jason warily and inclined his head in greeting when Jason raised his hands in a gesture of peace. 

“I ain’t here to fight, Robin. Just…just wanted to talk,” he murmured gently. Robin studied him for a moment longer before relaxing his stance, though the tension never left his body. 

“What about?” Robin asked cautiously. Jason gestured to the statue behind Robin, standing tall and proud over the Alley. 

“That.” Robin raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve already answered almost every question you could pose to me about it to each of the residents around here. Why not talk to them? Why specifically arrange a private meeting with me?” Robin asked carefully. Jason swallowed thickly, gathering his thoughts for a moment before speaking. 

“Because it’s not the same…getting answers second hand. Between paraphrasing, unconscious biases influencing the retellings…it’s better to ask personally,” Jason responded slowly, easily ignoring the hissing green in the back of his head. 

Over the last nine days Jason had slowly come to realize that just being in the presence of the statue, of knowing exactly where it was relative to his body whether he could see it or not helped keep the green sedated and quiet in the back of his mind. He’d found himself spending a decent amount of time at the foot of the statue just to let himself think properly. 

And he honestly hadn’t liked some of the conclusions he came to. 

“What do you want to know?” Robin asked carefully. Jason swallowed for a moment, taking a deep breath before gesturing to the statue. 

“The inscription. What- what does it say? And why that?” Jason choked out. Robin raised an unimpressed eyebrow, which Jason had to admit was fair. Asking about what the inscription said when that was a question the alley residents could easily answer with their eyes closed? Not his best starter. 

“‘In memoria, aeternus es’. In Latin it translates to ‘In memory, you are eternal’...roughly, anyway. I don’t-I don’t exactly speak Latin, but that was the closest translation.” Robin seemed almost sheepish and embarrassed about the translation. 

“Why-why that?” Jason forced himself to ask. Robin looked up at the statue and for the first time, Jason saw him almost relax. His shoulders slumped and his expression went wistful as he stared at the statue. 

“He was…an inspiration. To the alley residents, to the city, to me. He-he deserved to be remembered for what he had done. Not for what the Joker had done to him, but as the kind, helpful person he was. The bright light who inspired so many. I try-I try to do right by him. As Robin, I mean, even if I can never live up to him. Even if he deserves someone better than me as the person to honor his memory and legacy, but I still try. And that’s…that’s one of the things he used to say a lot. That sometimes-”

“All you can do is try,” Jason finished slowly, almost tasting the words as he said them. Because that? That was familiar. It was nostalgic in a way he didn’t remember. Until Robin had started saying the line, he couldn’t remember it, but then as he’d spoken memories had spilled into the forefront of Jason’s mind, like the Pit Madness had just been trying to hold them down under the green waters it came from. Dozens of interactions, with the street kids, the goons he beat down, the working girls on street corners, he’d told almost everyone he’d encountered that statement. 

And Batman patted his shoulder with this proud sort of smile barely visible on his lips whenever he did. Because it was the same thing that Batman himself fought for. That he fought, and tried for a better Gotham. A Gotham where people could and did choose to be better. But people tended to take the advice better when it was coming from a child than from Batman, oddly enough. 

“Yeah. All you can do is try,” Robin murmured, looking up at the statue. They were silent for a moment before Jason took a deep breath and changed the topic of conversation. 

“What happened to you?” Robin glanced at him and tilted his head in confusion, seemingly lost by the sudden change in the conversation’s direction. Jason gestured to the statue weakly. “When…when the second one was destroyed? What…what did the Joker do?”

Robin stiffened, lips pursing into a thin line as he turned away. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Jason asked. 

“Because it’s private and it doesn’t matter.” Jason growled at the statement, causing Robin to tense and glare at him when Jason stepped forward a bit. 

“It does matter that the Joker got his hands on a second fucking Robin! It does matter that you were a kid that was missing with the Joker for three weeks! Fucking Harley Quinn took barely five days before she broke after being tortured into insanity by the Joker! So excuse me for being worried about Joker getting his hands on another kid!” He snarled, green tinting his vision slightly. Robin swallowed nervously, hand reaching slowly for something on his belt, causing Jason to snap out of his rage induced haze. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck!”

Seeing that he wasn’t making any move to come closer, Robin relaxed slightly. His hand lowered from his belt and he watched Jason as he stood there, breathing heavily as he forced himself to calm down. 

“Sorry…that-maybe I shouldn’t have asked that,” Jason ground out, forcing the green back from his thoughts where it had tried to creep back in like a thin green mist to infect his thoughts, layering over everything like dew drops. 

“It’s…I’ve recovered. It certainly wasn’t…pleasant, but it- I’ve recovered from it. And I don’t like to dwell on it. It only brings up bad memories,” Robin murmured. Jason swallowed.

“Yeah, lets- let’s pretend I didn’t ask that,” he sighed. Robin nodded slowly and they stood in silence for a moment before Robin slowly tilted his head to the side again. 

“Do you…have something else to ask?” Jason glanced at the statue and although he wanted to question what it was made of, a glimpse of white, blue, and yellow caught his eye. He gestured at the bouquet still resting on the statue’s feet. 

“What’s with the bouquet? Do…do the flowers mean something?” he asked. “The residents said you never changed them…so…” Robin glanced back at the bouquet, face softening just a tiny bit. 

“White roses symbolize purity and innocence, primarily. But they can also mean reverence, remembrance, and respect. I kept them in the bouquet both because in a way they represent Robin, as the innocent and pure hero he was, and because they represent my emotions towards him. Forget-me-nots are small flowers but carry big meanings. Remembrance and connection are the big two, a display that he isn’t forgotten and he’s still connected to things now, still impacting people even when he’s gone, but they also stand for loyalty and resilience. Two things Robin was known for. Lastly daffodils represent renewal and hope. He brought hope, wherever he went. He inspired people to hope for a better future and I hope that with the statue here it’ll renew that hope every time they see it. That they’ll remember him as he was and take his words and encouragement to heart. I thought about changing the bouquet a few times before…but it never seemed right.”

Jason felt mildly like someone had just kicked him in the gut and sent him flying into the wall. His head was fuzzy in a way he typically associated with a concussion and it was hard to breathe, especially after such a…Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell he was supposed to say in response to Robin’s explanation. 

Like fuck, warn a guy before going into an emotional deep dive over a fucking bouquet of flowers. Flowers that he laid at the closest thing Jason-as-Robin had to a fucking grave. 

(Unless one counted the fucking display case in the Batcave, which Jason fucking DID NOT.)

Admittedly, Jason had asked for it. 

“Did…did you know him? The Robin before you?” Jason asked slowly. Had Tim Drake, Robin, known Jason during that time? Jason didn’t remember him, but it was possible the pit madness was just keeping the memory from him. However, to Jason’s slight disappointment, Robin shook his head. 

“Not personally. I…watched from afar. And it wasn’t hard to see how much hope and kindness Robin held in his heart. He was rough on the outside, never scared to throw the first punch with guys twice his size, but he genuinely wanted to help everyone. I…I wish I had gotten the chance to know him personally, but I never got the chance before…before the Joker.” Jason swallowed at the reminder. 

“What would…what would you say to Robin? If he were- if he came back to life somehow?” Robin stiffened and turned to look more closely at Jason, eyes narrowing suspiciously before widening in shock as Jason stood there awkwardly. Robin slowly stalked forward, eyes still wide as he cautiously approached Jason. He came to a stop right in front of the older boy and slowly reached up, carefully tugging at the domino mask hiding Jason’s face. 

Jason held still as Tim took his mask off, getting a good look at his face. 

“Jason?”

“Yeah, Baby Bird?” Jason choked out. Tim stared at him in shock even as Jason carefully laid his mask back down over his eyes, concealing his identity again. 

“Is this real?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is, Baby Bird.”

Tim stared at him with an expression Jason could only describe as sheer awe or maybe adoration. It was mildly uncomfortable, so Jason shifted in place and spoke up again. 

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Robin blinked a few times, taking a step back before hesitantly opening his mouth and speaking. 

“I…I would tell him that- that I’m sorry. For stealing his suit. I never wanted to be Robin, but-but with how Batman was spiraling and Nightwing wouldn’t help- I couldn’t let that happen. Robin fought for this city, fought to make it better. And I couldn’t have Batman undoing that. So…I’d tell him I’m sorry. And then…”

He trailed off, shifting nervously in front of Jason. The older boy raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“And then?”

“And then I’d say: Welcome home.”

Arms wrapped around Jason’s waist and he froze, realizing that Robin-Tim-Baby Bird was giving him a hug. That he was shaking and fucking crying as he held onto Jason like if he didn’t then Jason would disappear. 

“Welcome home, Jason.”

He could barely hear the mumbled words, but Jason moved, slowly wrapping his arms around the boy and leaning forward. Tears finally spilled from Jason’s eyes as he allowed himself to be honest with the boy. 

“Thank you. Thank you, Tim. For not forgetting me,” Jason whispered. Tim shook his head against Jason’s chest. 

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget you. You were so kind and good and you genuinely cared about everyone! No one- no one’s been able to forget you! Agent A still cleans your room and keeps the library exactly as you left it. Batman- Batman sees you every time he’s exposed to fear gas and has actually begged me to not give him the antidote because at least for the duration of the gas you're there. He still has you with him, when he’s affected by it. And Nightwing- Nightwing hallucinates you whenever he gets too tired. And he-he actively keeps himself exhausted. Works himself to the bone to ensure he’ll see you. I’ve caught him having full conversations with his hallucination of you both in Bludhaven and at the Manor. We couldn’t forget you even if we tried,” Tim murmured, and Jason felt his heart shatter as the last of Talia’s lies splintered into oblivion. 

When he’d see his suit in the Batcave, Jason had thought there was definitely some truth to her statements. That he’d never really been Bruce’s son, just a convenient tool. After all, his memorial was labelled ‘Jason Todd, a Good Soldier’ how could he not assume that she’d been right. 

But this?

Bruce tried to stay on fear gas despite the inherent dangers because he hallucinated Jason and didn’t want to lose him again?

Nightwing regularly had full blown conversations with a hallucination of Jason after exhausting himself over and over to make sure he saw Jason?

The only normal one was Alfred, and even then, Jason wasn’t certain that Alfred’s behavior was healthy. 

It was confirmation that Talia was lying. And with it, a chain Jason hadn’t even realized was tying him down snapped like a dry spaghetti noodle bent too far. 

“Please…Jason…come home.”

Jason stared down at the tiny figure clinging to him, begging him to go home. Back to the place he’d thought he’d never actually been wanted. Back to a place that had been filled with just as much suspicion and anger as love and care. And all he could do was sigh and pat Tim on the back. 

“Alright, Baby Bird. Let’s go home. Together.”