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

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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.

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[ 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.

[ The timing of Tim’s body language is much more telling than the body language itself: he doesn’t move when Jason approaches or crouches down. He only stiffens when Jason hugs him. The discomfort isn’t stemming from Jason.

It’s the comforting hug. (He doesn’t deserve it. Not from Jay. How could he?)

It’s the feeling that telling Jay was wrong. (This has to tip the balance in their family. Knowledge in the wrong hands is dangerous.)

It’s knowing that telling Jay was right. (He’s been trying to work with them without a full understanding of Bruce’s zealotry for his code.)

Tim pats him on the back with inexperienced perfunctoriness. They don’t hug. (Except they do, now. Rarely.) ]

It’s messed up. It shouldn’t be impossible to do the job and be human. It’s not enough for him if they don’t die. It’s “he has to face what he’s done”. “You saved him today, Tim, but what about tomorrow?” We have to scratch back into his good graces. He never gets tied up in Christmas lights in a minivan or drowned in a lake. Or apologizes, for letting it happen.

[ That’s enough of a hug. Tim scoots to the side. ]

I’m just… so tired of waiting for when he decides I’m you.

( enough hugging is heard loud and clear, so when tim pulls away, jason leans back against the truck. the cats are yowling inside their crates, they should probably be checking for trackers, but - if worse comes to worse, they can get back in the truck and drive off again. this conversation is a little too weighty to put off in the middle if they have a choice otherwise. )

He won't decide you're me, as long as I'm still around. ( a hand reaches up, yanks off the bottom bit of his mask. the domino stays on; even if he's willing to show how his mouth twists, his eyes are something else entirely. especially given they're still kind of out in the field. ) Even his death-message to me went into how I've always been his biggest failure. If you're gonna strive to reach that level of disappointing Dad, you're going to have to try a lot harder.

( it's said with a half-grin. almost there, but it never reaches his eyes. it's gone almost as fast as it showed up. )

When I came back to Gotham, when I'd--tied up Joker an' offered Bruce the choice between letting me kill him, or killing him himself - he'd found himself a third option of throwing a batarang into the barely visible, unguarded part of my neck an' left me in the rubble after the whole thing exploded. Don't even think he bothered to look for me to see if I was still alive or not.

( a lift of his shoulders, in what's meant to be a half-assed shrug. )

If he can't find a way to win, he finds a way to make sure everyone else around him loses. He doesn't apologize for the bullshit situations we get stuck in 'cause we're associated with him but throws all the blame on us when shit goes south. If we're not perfect we're not good enough but no one can be as perfect as he is, even if he's shit where it really counts. He'll argue we're his kids one moment, then start spouting nonsense about his soldiers. Yell about how we're his fault, his problem he created. You'll never be good enough for him, 'cause he's not even sure what his good enough is. He doesn't want us to be like him, but if we're not following his every rule, we're garbage that can't be trusted.

[ Tim flashes an equally fleeting smirk back at him. It doesn't stick around, but it's the cue needed to slide into a more presentable version of himself. Like an actor fixing his face before walking onstage.

He elbows Kestrel in the side, none too gently. Gotta make sure he feels it through the armor. ]

Metaphorically you. I don't think I have it in me to be you. I'm not imposing enough to carry it off. That's a compliment.

[ Tim is never capable of running a crime significant. Too short, too hoity toity, too upfront about his education, too well-mannered, too chirpy - he's the bookie they all call Four Eyes or the Consigliere named Pretty Boy if he's lucky. He's not who they'd follow.

When the smile fades, Tim rubs at the side of his neck, where there's a newer scar half-tucked under his collar. A bullet wound that now hides a faded knife scare. ]

That... puts things in a different perspective. He came down hard on me when I got shot. I thought it was because me being hurt reminded him of you. I mean - I know it was I reminded him of you, but I thought it was because he had to take off the costume before taking me to the hospital. I - I think it was because it was a neck wound. Like it matters.

I don't know why I spend so much time trying to understand what he wants. There's no predictability behind what gets a good job, Robin or a hnh or no reaction at all. Save the universe, get a lecture about your new uniform.

[ He kinda suspects, though, if he separates the conversation from himself. If this were about anyone else... ]

I know what you're doing. This is how I talk to Bernard about his asshole parents, but that's different.

( tim's never going to be jason. just like jason can't pull off being dick grayson. jason's intentionally imposing; his size wasn't luck but a shitton of work. if he hadn't been thrown into that pit, he doubts he would've gotten much bigger than tim even if he'd managed to put on some of the weight. only so much one can do to combat years of eating scraps. but he knew what his purpose was when he returned from the grave. and tim's always fit significantly better into the role of robin than jason had: listens well when it's necessary, talks back when he knows it's not, smaller. better at playing into the role of sidekick, where jason's always been prone to outbursts and an inability to bend. he's too stubborn, too mouthy, there's too much alley kid in him. they've all got their strengths and weaknesses.

tim would never make it as a crime lord. a gun-touting batman with a stick up his ass in the future? possibly.

not that it matters much now. tim rubs at his neck, and jason's eyes focus on the edges of that knife wound, one he'd left. )

I'm not doing anything. ( eyes back up to tim's, even as jason slouches forward a little. ) This's the same shit he pulls on me, y'know. Sprinkles in contradictions with his rules, throws in a few compliments an' a lot of bitching. I've tried to get on his good side - he always finds something to get pissed off about. I can't get out from being the Robin who died. Either he looks at me like I'm a goddamn ghost, or like I'm the villain. Every once in a while he'll throw in a pat on the shoulder, a good job, son, before he goes back to yelling about how he made me, he'll unmake me. He's harder on us, on you, than he is anyone else. Grayson gets a pass sometimes 'cause he was the first. D does 'cause he's the youngest, his real son when he's getting particularly fed up with the rest of us.

( if jason sounds bitter, it's because he is. )

He shouldn't be lining us up, comparing injuries or whatever the hell else is going on through his mind. Or coming down on us at all for getting fucked up when he's the one who trained us to put ourselves in the line of fire. You're not me, I'm not you. But he still does, and it fucks up the rest of us. You can't give him what he wants.

[ He's not letting Jason get away with being kind unacknowledged, even if he's drastically missed the mark.

Yeah, you are.

[ And it hits home, too. Because that feeling that he'll never quite live up to Dick? Yeah. It's still there sometimes. He's a hard act to follow, even with another performance in between. ]

It's not Dick's fault. He's a good person. He doesn't want the pedestal.

[ Tim's convinced that Dick would've created the Pennyworth Foundation from an anonymous donation if he could've, but Pennyworth would've given away the game. Rooms could be wallpapered with the articles about Young Master Bruce being left in the care of the family butler. (Given Jacob Kane's affilations, that was a prescient decision by Thomas and Martha Wayne).

Damian is left out of the defense. Robin's not as bad as he was. But in this context? It still stings. ]

The first time Bruce tried to adopt me, I didn't let him because I didn't want him to replace my dad. What an idiot, right?

[ Like it's funny, how Tim finally accepted the idea that they were a family and has chafed under Bruce's moods ever since. How his life gets upended every time Bruce gets off the rails because Bruce is this constant shadow touching every damn part of his life. He can't even go to a restaurant without Wayne coming into play or fucking Killer Moth showing up. ]

And he compares you to me? Why? Half the time, he acts like he forgot I'm still around. I never told him I moved out, you know. I just stopped going home. Kate has been over. He doesn't even have the boat bugged. You he remembers.

I know. Dick would give it up in a moment if he could without consequences.

( dick didn't ask to be the first of them. he didn't ask to become robin, nor did he ask for it to become a mantle that passed from kid to kid. hell, jason hadn't asked to become robin, either, but he wasn't passing up the opportunity either. to be something more meant the world to him. having that, being robin regardless of how short his time had been, still means everything to him. being robin had given him magic; it'd given him a family, a means to fight back. it'd given him everything he has now, because without bruce? jason's fairly certain he would have been just another dead kid in crime alley or worse - he would have grown up and become just like his old man.

and dick grayosn had made all of that possible. he'd become robin and left it, given jason something to strive towards when he'd put on the gear himself. none of the blame for all of their mess falls onto him. not that he's saying any of that to dick himself. shouldn't need to, dick knows.

jason tips his head back to press it against the truck. listens to the growling behind them. )

He remembers me 'cause he needs something to keep him angry. I don't think he always does either. I've fucked off and he never seemed to give a shit.

( they're all hugged out, so he doesn't offer one. just reaches out to shove tim over in return for the elbowing. )

Bruce is an asshole with impossible expectations. Trying to live up to them is just gonna make you bitter.

Edited 2024-01-25 00:30 (UTC)

[ But Tim asked for it. However he wanted to frame it to convince Bruce, Tim wanted the role. He didn't need a home - not when this all started. He'd had a family. It gave him something that was his, and he hadn't minded trying to live up to Jason and Dick. They had set the bars, and Tim liked the showy, loudness of being Robin. Liked the challenge of proving himself.

But then he wasn't 15 anymore, and it felt like he was never closer to meet expectations. ]

How can you tell? His face when he cares deeply is this.

[ Tim gets to his feet and looks down at Jason with a jutted jaw and flat mouth. ]

And when he'd rather you go live a normal life being a social worker in a West Coast city so he never has to deal with you again...

[ It's the same face.

After a second, Rook offers Kestrel a hand up. He wants to slide the conversation into safer ground and ignore the growing anxiety about what Jay will do with this knowledge. He'd like to feel relieved at the honesty, but he's already second-guessing himself. ]

( tim does his best bruce wayne impression, and it's enough to get a laugh out of jason - loud and obnoxious. they haven't been found yet, he doubts the d'amicos are anywhere close by at this point. rook offers a hand down, and he reaches up for it - using rook to pull himself up to his feet, too.

knows well enough that even if tim's on the smaller end, it's all lean muscle - so he doesn't pull his usual of technically taking someone else's hand but pulling his own weight up. tim can handle it. )

'cause I've gotten him pissed off enough to start screaming into my face about how he "should've never believed in me" and he was "a fool" for trusting me. There're nuances when you manage to find ways to piss him off that much.

[ The side-door of the warehouse opens and shuts as a small shadow slips in carrying a large sack on its back. ]

Didn't realize I was interrupting a 'complaining about Bats' session.

[ Jason outweighs Tim by enough that Tim has to lean back to put his body weight into hauling his brother to his feet. He’s trying to find a clever response that encapsulates every time B said he was a fool to depend on the League, or the GCPD, or anything that wasn’t himself - but the door opens, and Rook’s thoughtful expression sharpens and then relaxes at the familiar voice. ] There’s two of us in the same room. The discussion inevitably becomes a complaining about Bats session. [ No need to throw Jay a pointed look (like Wren wouldn’t clock it). No one’s going to recap the discussion for Dick. Rook smiles instead. ] Here to catch a tiger by the tail?

He's just so easy to pick on.

( gives all of them plenty of ammo to bitch about, at least. the look isn't needed; even without tim throwing it at him, jason knows better. once he's back up on his feet, jason clips the lower half of his mask to a belt loop, puts a hand on his hip while he looks to the bag he's assuming is to console their furry friends in the back of the truck. )

Your new pals have been yelling at us ever since we picked 'em up. The ride probably didn't soften 'em up any.

[ With an amused grin: ] Nah, it's easier to catch a tiger with its stomach.

[ Dick just snorts. ]

With the way you drive? Not surprised.

[ Dick drops the large bag to reveal a bunch of raw packaged meat-- the best he could find at this time of night without leaving the city. ]

Food will definitely soften them up.

[ He digs out some metal trays and uses a knife to cut open the plastic around the meat. ]

What'd he do this time? [ Bruce, he means. ]

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