Chapter Text
Tapping rhythmically on the table he was currently leaning against, Tim, still unfortunately in Dick’s body instead of his own, wondered quietly how everything went to shit this quickly. They were playing Mario Kart just as a normal not-coping-with-their-respective-traumas-by-terrorising-unsuspecting-criminals-while-dressed-up-in-silly-costumes family and had subsequently enjoyed a very nice dinner prepared by their butler – but not really because he was their grandfather – when they got the news that Arkham had just suffered a mass breakout.
Great timing.
As Tim gnawed on his lip, he watched his eldest brother, now towering over all of them in Jason’s body, argue with their boss, mentor, but really father, trying tirelessly to convince the most stubborn man they knew to let them help him.
Arkham breakouts were some of the most stressful events to occur, demanding all Bats to help as much as they could. Sure, Batman would be able to stop most of the worst from happening, especially with Oracle in his ear, but it was only when all of them worked together that this could be stopped within six hours or less.
“B, I swear to God! Listen to me!” Dick’s, well, Jason’s, voice thundered around the cave. “We can help you! Us being body swapped doesn’t mean we magically lost our training. The least we can do is help with evac or help the police out at Arkham.”
The man in question stood suited up, leaning against the Batcomputer with both arms. Time was running out, so much was evident by the footage running on multiple screens. Batman needed to go out now, and preferably any other Bat-affiliated vigilante too, since the escape of rogues such as the Joker, Calendar Man, and the Penguin would soon prove fatal to civilians.
“Bruce, Dad-,” Jason opened his mouth to try to convince the man.
Before Jason could finish a sentence, Bruce shook his head and pulled his cowl on. “Fine. Jaylad, please investigate Arkham and try to find out the cause of the escape and who escaped. From what Oracle has found out, the guards have been able to get most prisoners back in their cells. Dick, you are in charge of any needed evacuations. Stay in communication with Oracle. Tim, please join me as soon as you can. I’m going to speak to the commissioner so we can work with the GCPD to bring in all the escapees.”
Of course, Bruce would cave when Jason asked. He always did. Talk about not having a favourite child.
For once, Tim was surprised that Jay didn’t object to being given direct orders. But the situation was unusual, and his elder brother did sometimes know when to stay quiet. Very surprising, he was aware.
Shooting all three of them almost caring looks, Batman marched over to the Batmobile.
“Be careful.” It was barely audible to a non-Bat-trained person, but it warmed Tim’s heart. B had come a long, long way from being this dark and mysterious figure only capable of grunts and gruffly spoken orders to, well, a dad who learned to communicate his thoughts and emotions. Now the three of them knew that Bruce did indeed love them and was prouder than even most hardcore soccer moms of their accomplishments, with the wall of pictures and reports in his study and office as evidence.
Without looking back, because Tim knew Bruce would’ve changed his mind if he did, B sped off, leaving him in the cave alone with his brothers.
“That… actually went well,” Dick remarked, surprised as much as relieved, as he walked over to the Batcomputer.
Tim nodded, watching his older brothers and deciding he would take their cues. He himself was also relieved. This wasn’t a matter of “we are highly trained vigilantes and capable of doing this.” No, this was a matter of “Dad, please let us help. We don’t want you to get injured, because none of us can lose another dad.”
His eldest brother was the first to break the silence, fully stepping into the role of team leader as he had so many times before, turning toward him.
“Timmy, I’ll go show you how to put on the Nightwing suit, okay?” Dick said, grabbing his suit and waving Tim with him toward the changing area.
“My suit is in my locker, Dickhead! Don’t fucking destroy it!” Jason called after them, half joking, half serious.
Tim tried not to snicker and of course failed horribly. The grin on his face, however, was wiped completely away as they stepped into a changing room. It didn’t take long for him to realise that this was very much going to be very awkward… great.
Jason had watched his brothers retreat into one of the changing rooms with anxiety pooling in his gut. He was currently holding Timbit’s Robin suit and couldn’t fucking stop his hands from shaking.
He’d spent months planning how to get the mantle back, the mantle he’d never truly passed down. Then he had painstakingly made his peace with it. And now, he had one last chance to don it, and he couldn’t even help himself from careening into a panic attack. Robin had been magic. Truthfully, it had been the best time in his life. It had given him magic. Jason should be feeling grateful for getting another chance to wear the R, and yet the only thing he felt was dread and nausea. He had fucking died in this suit. Well, not this exact one, but still.
His tears soaked the fabric in his hands.
“Master Jason-” Alfred’s voice suddenly came from behind him. “Oh… my boy.”
Suddenly, Jason was swept into a firm hug, the suit still clutched in his fists as he cried in his grandfather’s arms. It was then that he truly cried, sobs spilling from his lips.
He cried for all that had been ripped away from him: his family, his future plans, the high school graduation he had been dreaming about from the second the word “school” had fallen from Bruce’s lips, his plans for studying literature right after, the possibility of joining Dick’s Titans team, going to the circus with Dick as part of their yearly tradition without panicking at the mere sight of someone with white face makeup on. The list went on and on.
Yes, he had fucking crawled out of his grave. He had made it out. And yet he’d lost so much. So many parts of himself he’d never get back. Many memories were still blurry or even wholly absent thanks to Talia throwing him into the Pit headfirst.
He’d even tried to kill his baby brother. His precious Baby Bird, who’d been left to roam in this dangerous world alone at way too young an age.
Fuck, he’d been so mad at his dad. So mad… A part of Jason still was and would probably always be. Dinah, one of the most badass and best women he had the pleasure of knowing from even before he’d died, had told him that it was normal and that a part of him would always see Bruce’s inability to rescue him as a form of betrayal.
At least he made it back, more or less in one piece. That was what counted.
After a while – he really didn’t know how long – Alfred broke the silence gently, still absentmindedly running his fingers through Jason’s hair. “You must understand that you are not required to put this on.”
Jason’s head immediately snapped up to meet his grandfather’s eyes. As he opened his mouth to… react? Interject? Disagree? He honestly didn’t even know. The old man shushed him gently. “Jason.” His eyes widened a fraction at the address without the butler’s beloved “Master” title prefaced. “You endured more than most grown men in this suit, with this emblem painted across your chest. It is understandable if you’d rather not put yourself back in this kind of spotlight.”
With his heart hammering away in his chest, because he was alive, alive goddamnit, and tears drying on his cheeks, he swallowed loudly, doubt clearly written all over his face. Alfred merely brushed a lock of Tim’s way too long fringe out of his face before calmly carrying on. “But if you wish to overwrite the memory that monster left behind, because you are so much more than just the Robin who died, then now would be your chance. You always said Robin was magic. But the truth is that you, my boy, made Robin magical. You are the real magic, Master Jason. Never doubt that.”
Taking a deep and shuddery breath, Jason fought valiantly against the tears threatening to well up once more.
“Listen to your heart, lad. I know you will make the right decision.”
Jason stayed silent, slotted against his grandfather’s side just like he would when he was younger. He didn’t trust his voice, nor the emotions whirling inside him. Alfred stayed as he always would, gently running his hand through his hair while steadying him with the other.
“Can… can you help me put it on?” Jason whispered after a minute or two, not looking up.
“Of course, Master Jason. I would love nothing more than to help my grandson,” Alfred responded softly, before leading him into one of the unoccupied changing rooms.
Robin would be his again, if only for a night. And Jason was going to make the most of it, that he knew for certain. He was going to show the world, himself most of all, that he still had it in him. That he still had the magic to make Robin shine as the symbol it was supposed to be.
The work that evening and well into the night had been gruelling, Dick decided as he flopped down into a chair in the Batcave. He’d just stumbled out of a well-deserved steaming hot shower and put on a set of B’s clothes, which were a lot less baggy on Jason’s body than his own. Gosh, his Little Wing had grown into such a tank. Every time he was reminded of it, he couldn’t help but get a little emotional. He’d been such a small bean the first time Dick had met him, and now Dick had to crane his neck up to meet his eyes.
His brothers were not faring any better, all of them absolutely knackered. Dick was sure that if their father were honest, he’d say so about himself too.
Nevertheless, certain protocols had to be followed and things needed to be written down and archived for future reference. Thus, the four of them – Alfred flitting around bringing everyone tea and some of his homemade cookies (best grandpa ever) – sat around a table and recounted everything that happened that night with a precision not even most CIA agents had.
“—and after speaking to incompetent bastard number two, I went to the head guard’s office. Guess what? The asshole was just sitting at his desk eating a burger as if nothing had just happened,” Jason huffed, his, well, Tim’s hair askew and cheeks rosy, hands curled around the mug Alfred had handed him minutes before.
“Did you—” Bruce started.
“Yes. I took pictures of their badges and already sent them to Barbie,” his little brother interrupted swiftly.
Their father nodded, a small, almost overlookable smile playing on his lips. “Great, thank you, Jaylad.”
Nobody commented on the childlike expression of joy Jason made. Dick had to stifle his own smile. Deep in their hearts, Tim excluded since he wasn’t an adult yet, they were all children craving their dad’s recognition, however small or stupid it might be.
Dick was next up and kept his report as brief as humanly possible, craving his bed and soft sheets above all. “First and largest evac was in the Narrows. Babs will send you the location marker. Firefly torched a whole apartment building. The fire was contained within an hour. Fifty-six residents made it out by themselves, twelve had to be extracted. No casualties. Twenty people were brought to the hospital, seventeen with smoke inhalation and three with minor burns.”
B nodded, periodically asking a few more questions to clarify details. After a while, he gave Dick the go-ahead to continue recounting the rest of the evacuations he had helped with.
All in all, it took them one and a half hours to get through all of that night’s happenings. It didn’t take much motivation from Alfred for all of them to head to their respective rooms and pass out in their respective beds.
Shooting one last goodnight message to Wally, Dick didn’t even have the energy to put his phone on his nightstand, dropping it onto his chest instead the second his eyes slipped shut.
Jason woke up feeling like absolute shit. Apparently, he’d forgotten to close his fucking curtains before heading to bed, even though he was sure he had done so before throwing himself into his bed and burrito-ing up. Even worse, it felt like his cheek was pressed against something hard… a phone maybe? Once again, very weird, because Jason had put his phone on the charging dock on his desk.
Rubbing his eyes, he blinked them open, already feeling a grumpy mood set in for the day. As he snatched the phone from under his cheek, his vision focused. Why the fuck had he slept with Dickhead’s phone?
Jason lay there still for a few seconds, his tired brain trying to catch up.
Wait.
Forty-eight hours. Dick had been in his body. It had been forty-eight hours. Now Jason was in his own body again!
Scrambling out of bed, he dashed to the nearest mirror, nearly crying in relief – yes, he was a dramatic bitch, deal with it – at the sight of his own face in the reflection. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and his brain seemingly still half asleep alongside any sense of shame, he ran, for whatever reason, into his dad’s room like a child running in to show off a drawing.
The room was still drenched in darkness, with Bruce fast asleep on the left side of his king-sized bed.
“Bruce!” Jason found himself whisper-shouting. When the man didn’t respond – vigilance his ass – he tried again. “Dad!”
Belatedly, he realised how stupid this all was, but it was already too late. Bruce shifted, eyes narrowing at the door where Jason stood. “Jaylad? It’s too early to be up,” he grumbled. “C’mere.”
Without really knowing why, Jason let the door softly click shut behind him and padded toward the man’s bedside. Before he could even open his mouth, a hand closed around his wrist and he was yanked into the bed next to Bruce, his father swiftly pulling the duvet around both of them before mostly falling back to sleep.
Stunned, Jason lay there for a few seconds, rethinking his whole life.
“Sleep, chum. It’s too early,” the old man grunted again, pulling him closer into his chest.
Embarrassingly, it didn’t take long for Jason’s heart rate to go down, nor for his eyes to slip shut.
He blearily noticed a smaller body joining them a while later and briefly woke at the sight of Dick climbing into bed behind Tim. His older brother’s face had an annoyingly soft smile on it.
“We’re all back in our own bodies now,” Dickhead whispered, freezing a little when Bruce, still very much asleep, now on his back, shifted to pull both Jason and Tim better into his sides.
Jason merely nodded, his eyes drooping again.
“Go back to sleep, Little Wing,” his brother murmured. “But don’t you dare sneak out before breakfast.”
Releasing a near-silent snort, Jason drifted back into peaceful unconsciousness, surrounded by his dad and brothers.
That morning, Alfred’s beloved photo album gained another treasured photo.