metalogs | OPEN | This is his equivalent of meeting at Starbies and the mall.

Entry tags:

OPEN | This is his equivalent of meeting at Starbies and the mall.

Who: Tim Drake

mostdangerousbird and Open
What: Some vigilante has to patrol the city. Maybe you're one of them.
When: Like 2 AM January 7th.
Where: Mid-rise rooftops, D'Amicos territory
Content Warnings: Violence is likely.

2 AM Lunch break

Hey, ya gotta eat. Tim's favorite late night Chinese food place (across the Central City General Hospital) is the unofficial hospital nightshift cafeteria. He can get anything there - turnip cakes, fries, egg rolls stuffed with pizza, or tonight, an Italian sausage on a bun. It's a weird spot, with a takeout window that makes you wait in an alley, but that works for him.

He's only in the alley 10 minutes, while he waits for his order, but he's oddly approachable as he sits on a pile of pallets texting. It's like an art project, "Vigilante, Paused."

Stake(out) for Dinner
When the greasy paper bag is handed over, the hero melts back into the shadow. He's already on the roof, racing a few buildings over before unwrapping the bag to settle in to watch through telescopic lenses while he munches.

He's only checking in on a longtime problem, as it's so close to his snack. Rook wasn't expecting the mob clubhouse to have so much activity at this time of night. Before he's done his sandwich, he's counted 8 arrivals, including a plain white box truck, and only two departures (who left in 1 black sedan).

In the morning, he'll check if Jason knows what might be going down. Robin's intervened with Red Hood and his rivals once, but as Rook, he's tried to stay out of it -

At least he hasn't lit any warehouses on fire -

Two more goons come out of the building. Pause at the doors to the truck's cargo. They open the door and examine the dark interior. Too far to make out any detail, but there's movement in the truck.

He'll have to get closer. Polishing off his sandwich, Tim folds the tin foil and bag down to a neat and tiny square. Tucks it away into his belt.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You nag worse than Babs, you know that?

( he does have a belt. and a significant amount of pockets stitched into his jacket exactly where jason wanted them, thanks. more pockets now, after his kind-of trip back home spaced out his time in new amsterdam when he'd gotten used to going without his significant amount of gear from his time elsewhere. )

Leave my shit alone, I've got it just how I like it! An' mine're in my back pockets, I can't reach 'em and drive at--hold on.

( because they're approaching the alleyway, and despite the mild bitchfest going on up here, he knows tim's good to throw them like jason had asked him to. he doesn't direct tim to do the job he's already given him, instead takes a deep breath, holds it in and turns eyes to the alleyway. counts down the seconds, and as soon as jason's got visibility beyond the alley, he's scrunching up his nose, bites down on the inside of his lower lip - and turns the wheel just enough that the car starts sinking into its own shadow.

there one moment, and gone the next as it lands half on the sidewalk on the other side of the alley. jason lets out the breath he'd been holding. lets off the gas, gets off the sidewalk, and lets the truck slow down to a reasonable pace for the road they're on.

stops at the next stop sign with his blinker on, like any good driver. and makes a right turn. )

Two blocks.

( to jason's old warehouse. tim probably knows where it is. the hand he's got on the steering wheel's shaking a little, and the other's raising to press against his sternum. )

'm never doing that again.

[ He does throw them - he's still bitching at Kestrel as he does, but the timing is flawless. If you're going to mouth off, you have to still deliver.

(If there is a flaw, it's that Rook's not wasting a rebreather on this. They're a pain to fabric, and not cheap, so he's holding his cape to his face. It keeps him quiet, anyway.

And this time, Rook clocks the sensation of being teleported when it begins. But they're still in the truck.

(One of the cats sounds like its coughing up a hairball. Please be facing the back of the truck.)

But Kestrel - shit, that's not good. That's how Tim imagines he looks, when he heals too much or too many. Shaking is bad enough but touching his hand to his chest is voluntary, if subconscious, and Jay doesn't do that sort of (showing weakness) thing. ]

Do you want me to drive or heal?

[ Asking, because he knows it's important to give his brother a choice. Limited options, because he knows he'll pick the stupidest one. ]

( at least they're in the shit area of central city, where a car full of bullet holes will, hopefully, not attract too much attention. as long as no one notices the snarling and yowls coming from the back. and the coughing. jason's not looking back, he doesn't want to know what that cat's hacking up. )

I'm fine.

( a moment after it leaves his mouth he realizes exactly what tim's catching onto, and how he's going to take jason's answer as utter bullshit. )

It doesn't hurt. ( a yellow light, which jason speeds up just enough to get through before it turns red. drops the hand from his sternum. ) I'll explain it later.

( he's tired, in a way that feels like it's more than bone-deep. but he's not going to crash in the very short distance they need to go to get to the warehouse. )

[ “No” wasn’t an option, and yet he took it anyway. When they get to the warehouse, Kestrel has a minute to explain. Rook will wait.

(They’ve survived higher speed crashes than this. It’s two blocks. It will be fine.)

(Maybe.)

He’s going to avail himself of the passenger seatbelt now. ]

We need to figure out what to do with the cats. And if they’re chipped with tracking devices. Do you have ketamine?

[ Rook straightens the passenger side mirror or tries to. It breaks off in his hand from the damage it took in the alley, so he has to hold it at the correct angle check their tail.

The subject change is damning, but questions would only start the fight earlier. There’s nothing to say in response to the excuses. ]

In my jacket. I'll get it out when we stop.

( fingers tighten on the wheel, gripping it almost too hard for a moment, before they loosen again. he pulls in a breath, lets it out. they're almost there, he'll be fine.

another turn, before jason's reaching into his jacket for his phone, and navigates into an application that lets him access the warehouse's truck door. presses the button to open it as he starts backing in.

doesn't bother trying to use the side mirrors, they're fucked he knows where the door is, there's nothing big he can fuck up inside the warehouse. if they hit something, who cares.

tim suddenly changing the subject is more worrisome than accidentally running over something. )

[ Bullshit, he’s fine. Like Rook isn’t right there to see how he’s whiteknuckling the wheel. If it were any other cape, Rook would have intervened. But no. It’s Kestrel. Kid gloves. Can’t shove him out of the driver’s seat or heal him up. He’d be unbearable and they’d still have tigers to deal with.

When they’re inside the warehouse and the vehicle’s come to a stop, Rook gets out of the truck. Through the window because, surprise, the door’s dented shut.

He runs to the other side, expecting Kestrel to fall out of the car and muttering something that sure sounds like: ]

You’re as stubborn as B.

( rook goes out through the window, and kestrel takes advantage of the extra space to scoot more towards the center of the seat so he can kick his boot against the doorframe. it swings open, but not without making very displeased noises. the cats sound pissed, too, and jason can't blame them.

it was a rough ride. the door starts closing behind them, and jason figures as long as none of them caught sight of their landing through the smoke and there's no trackers in their new kitties, they should be safe here for a bit. not safe to wander, given he's damn sure they're looking for them, but.

jason doesn't fall out of the truck. partially because he's still sitting down. give him a few more minutes, and he'll be fine. )

Don't give me that. You're just as bad.

[ The “I know you are but what am I?” defense doesn’t work as well on Tim nowadays. It comes up often enough that he’s rather deft at sidestepping the blow. ]

I’m not. My choices are only self-detrimental when there’s no other logical option.

[ He’ll acknowledge he’s stubborn when he’s right, and not apologize for it. ]

You can teleport a truck, two men, and tigers, and then you’re visibly showing strain. Let me help. I’m asking.

[ Rook hates withholding aid, inaction when he thinks he can help, and ignoring the better option because of principles or whatever this is. ]

Or tell me enough about this that I feel better about letting you recuperate while we’re stuck in an unheated warehouse with tigers in a truck - and give me the gun I left on the seat. If they get out, I’m not fighting them off with a bo.

( jason does reach back for the gun. grabs onto it, but he's not handing it over immediately. instead, he's making sure there's no bullets in the chamber and unloading the magazine from the gun. pulls out a different one from inside his jacket that's marked with a bit of blue painted onto the bottom, and loads that one in. )

Non-lethal rounds. All I've got on me, so don't waste 'em.

( see how nice he is. tim asks for a gun, jason hands over the gun. )

It doesn't hurt. You got your new meta-abilities from the Confluence, right? I got mine from the godbits that yanked me into New Amsterdam.

( patting at his chest for a moment, before he's reaching up for the high neck of his suit. jason pulls it away from himself far enough that the blue glow of his sternum is visible. not his sternum itself, he's not explaining the scar there too. )

's more of an uncomfortable pull. Pain I can handle. This just feels weird.

Okay.

[ It might not be. Jason is glowing blue. Rook says it again, deciding that it’s okay if he says it is. ]

Okay. I trust you.

[ Because he does, and New Amsterdam is such a rare topic. Another land mine to avoid in an old battlefield. ]

But if you keel over, I’m never trusting you about your own physical wellbeing again.

Tim secures the gun on his belt rather than keep it in hand. The only thing a firearm does in a conversation is keep everyone on edge. ]

Don’t tell Beast Boy, but I think I’d be in favor of lethal rounds. The blanks will piss them off.

I've been fine this whole last year, haven't I? Give or take some.

( going off the calendar, he's a little off. but considering his lengthy trip back home that also felt like no time but also forever all in the same breath - close enough is close enough.

jason's not worried about it. because if he thinks too hard about it he's going to start feeling uncomfortable in his skin again and there's only so long a guy can handle that before he starts ripping himself open. again. despite knowing there's no point and he wouldn't find what he's looking for.

a hand slides against the doorframe, holding onto it as he slides out of the driver's seat. keeps his hand against it just in case, and looks to the back of the truck, but - outside of it. he's not making eye contact with a tiger, that just sounds like they're asking for a bad time. )

Think we should call in Dick? Or - one of 'em.

( there're tigers in the circus. )

Dick?

[ Old memories resurface about Dick Grayson and predators, and Tim’s grimace is visible despite the mask. No, he definitely does not want his eldest brother to know that he’s hanging out with known mankillers if it can be avoided. ]

The younger one. He’s been around animal acts more recently. It’s still fresh.

[ Less chance of that one leaping to conclusions if something goes sideways. ]

You get him for advice; I’ll warn Red Hood about what’s going on from the “political” side.

( the wince is noted. jason considers leaving it, but he instead opts to, well, )

Is it you or Grayson?

( is tim avoiding dick because he doesn't want dick to make faces at him, or is he avoiding dick because he doesn't want dick to be handling their cat problem. )

[ Tim intakes a breath to talk, checks himself for a half second, and proceeds with extreme caution. ]

I think we should leave him out of any situation involving his loved ones and apex predators unless absolutely necessary.

[ He’s trying to prop up a mental barricade against guilt (for multiple reasons), regret (also for multiple reasons), and residual anger (too many to innumerate).

(Kinda failing at it.)

Rook almost told the younger Jason once, and yet here he is, not quite disclosing to Jay. The memory never fits into a conversation. “I’m worried what happens if Dick finds Joker.” “I’d rather him not think Killer Croc ate me again.”

(“Bruce should’ve let him die and then I wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped and tortured.”)

(Focus. There are live tigers.)

He starts texting Red Hood instead of babbling. ]

( jason hates how everyone in their group of fucked up messes just - hides shit. hides everything. puts duct tape over open wounds because it's easier than talking about it or being honest, but he can also admit - he does the same thing, constantly. sometimes if he's feeling generous, he'll offer tidbits of information thrown across several months, slowly opening up to how messy everything is. he's pretty sure he still hasn't told anyone other than junior how bruce slit his throat and left him for dead when he'd first come back to gotham.

intentionally. because showing weakness is giving others an opening. but he's trying something new these days (with tim specifically, he'll work his way up to it with others later) called trust. and so, while he might throw tim a look that says he knows he's hiding something, jason - leaves it.

pulls his phone out while leaning a hip up against the truck, to reach out to dick. )

[ The look is received in the spirit that it’s meant. I know you and I know what you’re doing.

Rook feels about three inches tall in the harsh glare of understanding and respect.

(Because it is respectful. Jay knows he’s squirreling knowledge away, and he’s letting Tim get off scot free. It should feel good.)

(Feels like shit.)

He stops in the middle of a series of texts to the younger Jason Todd. Looks over but not up. ]

I-

[ Tim huffs out a breath. He's committed now that a syllable has come out. (Or should be, maybe, for thinking himself into this situation.)

That entire nightmarescape of Jokers still lives rent free in Tim's head. The Joker, in general, has lived rent free in Tim's head for over a year. He keeps coming back to this. ]

If you had to chose between honesty and potentially hurting you and Dick, what would you choose? Hypothetically.

[ Maybe Jay won't hate him over this. ]

Don't put that on me. I'd lie out my ass.

( he's being honest about it though. jason's weaponized things that he knew would hurt before, he'll likely do it again if the need comes up, but he--doesn't like it. hates it when he runs his mouth like an asshole, even if it almost always feels good in the moment, two seconds after he feels like trash. )

But I'm not you either.

( tim's close enough that jason feels just fine reaching a hand out towards him, shoving his palm on top of his head. it's almost a hair ruffle, but it's more just--physical contact. )

Couldn't say if that makes it any better or worse though.

Yeah, I thought you would.

[ Internalizing it then. God, he hates it though. Hates how increasingly difficult it is to remember all the things he shouldn't say and doesn't want to think about. ]

Neutral or worse. I don't know, because I don't know how you'd react.

[ What if he could talk around it? Bleed off the excess confidential information. He doesn't have to... really pin it down. ]

Did anyone ever tell you about the time Dick thought the Joker fed me to Killer Croc?

Tim.

( voice low and even; he's aiming for something a little more comforting but knows he's not quite hitting the mark. tim isn't one of the kids jason's found wandering around the streets, or stuck watching their mothers slowly fade away - he's a robin, he knows better. )

No one's told me shit about it, but you don't have to. ( he wants to know because tim brought it up, because jason's a nosy asshole who needs to know everything just as much as the rest of them do. but, ) I'm here regardless. In this shitty warehouse with a truck full of tigers we're not calling Grayson about. We've all been through shit, I don't need to know everything. If you wanna, you can. But don't feel like you need to.

I know. Don't you think I know that you're not making me tell you? I almost told the other Jason because we were talking and I wanted to give him more reasons to trust me. But we're already brothers. Different math. It's not about having to; it's about you should know and nobody ever protects you.

[ He shrugs helplessly and gestures at the truck. ]

Now they're here, so I'm thinking about it, because no one ever patched in an off switch, and I will just connect events with red yarn indefinitely in my head without distraction. And - why haven't I told you? I should've at least 3 times by my count. It keeps me up at night 'cause someday the clown's going to tell you what happened and I'm going to wish I was croc bait for keeping my mouth shut.

[ He's saying everything but what he means to. Tim has to run out of energy before he's willing to drop the bomb and let the nuclear fallout wash over him.

Kicking the fender... is less than cathartic. The cats start yowling and Tim's heart rate goes up by 10. ]

You always think the rest of us don't care about you. It's not true. Even by your standards. Dick never got over what happened to you.

( nobody ever protects you - and jason's jaw clenches tight. there's a lot of shit jason's just fine talking about, a lot he'd bring up on his own without skipping a beat, but--the complicated relationship between him and everyone else is always messy.

he gets it, now. tim's hesitation. why he's babbling on and on, why he's nervous. this isn't about what happened to tim, not entirely, it's about what happened to jason. his least favorite topic. dick never got over what happened to you, and jason almost opens his mouth and starts going off, because it sure as hell didn't feel that way when he'd first come back around. jason had been angry, yes. he'd taken it out on everyone including himself and dick had done jack shit. threw him in arkham even, when he knew damn well joker was also there.

his expression hardens, but jason's taking a few moments to breathe through it. to not let his temper get the best of him, to not start going off on tim for just - trying to clear the air, or whatever this is.

so he keeps his mouth shut instead. gives tim room to babble, because if jason opens his mouth, he's going to start going off on a tangent neither of them wants him to voice. )

[ He slumps to sit on the concrete with his back against the fender and one knee hugged to his chest. The universal tell for Tim’s being mentally askew.

It’s all fait accompli now. ]

Dick beat him to death.

The Joker. He- he was talking about you when Dick snapped.

I know you’re going to say it didn’t happen. I was there. I was 14. I tried to take his pulse. Lack of it. I wish he’d fucking stayed dead.

If he was dead then, how the hell's he still alive now?

( it didn't happen, because dick wouldn't kill someone, not even the joker. it didn't happen, because joker's been around for years since. tim isn't fourteen anymore. jason's running scenarios in his head even as he denies it, because tim wouldn't be this big of a mess if he was telling jason a lie - and there's no benefit for him, either, for saying shit like this. hell, tim knows how hard this's hitting jason, it's why he's crouched down on the floor making himself as small as he can.

and once again, jason's pissed at everyone for letting goddamn teenagers run around with batman while someone like joker's still out there. joker, who'd killed jason not that long before he'd apparently tried to feed tim to killer croc. waylon's a mess; he's been better lately, but jason can see him snapping tim given the right scenario.

jason stays up, still leaning against the truck with his feet planted firmly against the ground. as if he'll bolt the moment he moves. )

[ Now Tim is the one shaking - or maybe he’s just shaking his head so hard that it’s rocking his whole body.

Protecting his partner is engrained with years of training. It’s automatic.

And he’s positioned between protecting the current partner in this room and the Partner. The absent general who always seems to miss these moments when the soldiers are struggling.

No matter what he does, he’s betraying someone.

(He remembers when Jay hugged him over what the Joker did to him.)

(And the look on Bruce’s face when Tim saved Captain Boomerang from his own bad choices.) ]

Bruce gave him CPR.

( he's angry.

so goddamn angry. that joker was dead, gone for good, and bruce couldn't just leave it be. he wouldn't have had to do anything, he could have just. . . waited it out. it all would have been over. none of them would have gotten fucked up by the joker again. countless lives wouldn't have been lost. jason wouldn't have had reason to return to gotham as angry as he had.

but none of that is on tim. and tim has taken enough of jason's anger being misdirected his way. tim was fourteen, and when jason came back he hadn't been in the mood to listen. it wouldn't have mattered back then either, because he doesn't know what he knows now. it would have been more anger being thrown at tim, heated words he's never deserved. jason should have been told, but it was never on tim to be the one to tell him.

nor should it be on tim to feel like shit for telling it now.

he's quiet, for a good few moments. focuses on taking a few breaths, on fighting back the urge to scream and yell, cry maybe, because it isn't going to get him anywhere. )

Hey.

( voice soft, and jason drops down next to tim. moves an arm to wrap it around his shoulders. he's still tense, but jason's working to keep the fight out of his body language - to hide how badly he feels the need to hit something. he's not hitting tim; tim's getting pulled into a one-armed hug instead. )

Thanks for telling me. I know how hard it must've been.

OPEN | This is his equivalent of meeting at Starbies and the mall.

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