prettyredbird | Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Strange occurrences were happening all over Gotham's streets. It had all started with Red Robin coming across the body of a child predator with his throat torn out, left in a clearing in the Gotham Woods for anyone to find. He had no sympathy for the guy, but such a horrific scene of the crime certainly left an impact. It wasn't long before rumors of a vicious beast stalking the city began to circulate on the streets. People spoke of viscera and gore dripping from a powerful maw, the moonlight reflecting off of sharp white teeth, and howls powerful enough to make trees tremble. The whole thing sounded completely ridiculous. Tim insisted that it must have been an escaped bear, or some new supervillain trying to freak people out and cause chaos. The more detective work he put into it, however, the less he believed his own theories. Further bodies of the scummiest of criminals, fur, blood, partial canine paw prints that were far too big to belong to any wolf or dog, dead deer that looked as though they had been mauled by something far stronger and more terrifying than any grizzly--it would've taken quite a mind to put together such a convincing fake monster, but it was still possible. When the wildlife cameras he placed failed to pick a single thing up, Tim buried himself in research to find any sort of plausible explanation. Each trail only led to a single outcome.

Werewolf.

In the far corners of the internet, the least reliable sort of people swore the beasts were real. That they could transform into massive killing machines, apex predators unlike any that had ever existed before. They could shake off a substantial level of damage, and without some sort of silver to block their healing ability, they were nearly invincible. The first time Tim had read about them, he rolled his eyes and decided it was time to get some sleep. But as he lay there, staring holes into his ceiling, the idea simply wouldn't leave his mind. His best friend was the clone of an alien, could he really claim a werewolf was more far-fetched than that? Maybe it wouldn't be such an awful idea to look for a pattern, choose the right night, and see for himself who (or what) was leaving remains in the woods. At least then he could be sure.

As Tim stepped into the trees in the middle of the night a week later, Tim decided that yes, it was an awful idea. The hair on the back of his neck rose as goosebumps exploded in chains along his skin. Every sound around him seemed both amplified and completely terrifying. It wasn't like Red Robin to be scared, but he'd never actually tried to hunt a monster before. Turned out being in entirely new territory did in fact make him quite anxious. He hadn't wanted to try to explain his research to the other Bats when they'd nearly thrown him in an asylum that time he insisted Bruce was still alive and lost in the time stream, which meant that he had exactly zero backup. It took all of his training to keep his breathing calm, and his gloved had clutched the silver dagger that he'd brought closer to his chest. Sure, a six inch blade was totally going to protect him from a giant monster. Good thinking, Tim!

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'...unlike any that had ever existed before.'

That was a slight exaggeration. After all, they'd existed forever, right alongside everyone else. Long enough for the truth of their being to be clouded, anyway. Jason had heard everything from 'a villager was mauled by a wolf, only to later bare a child with wild eyes and fangs' to 'a curse cast on a bloodline by a witch'. No one really knew, not even the League-who he'd been pretty sure had known everything.

Now, it was simply a disease. A bloodborne pathogen that was carried through the body to rewrite it's very being. There were those who were born into it, of course, but Jason hadn't. He'd been...well. He'd been something of an experiment. A desperate, last ditch attempt for Talia to awaken his so severely damaged mind from it's walking coma. It had worked, her bite powerful enough to send his body into convulsions as it twisted and writhed and changed that very first time.

And when it was over and the sun had risen, Jason had woken up for the first time since his death and the first thing he'd done had been to scream. She'd taken him in like the wayward pup that he'd been, taught him about his new body and his new purpose. She'd told him all about how his family had left him. How'd they'd barely mourned before moving on. How Dick hadn't even gone to his funeral and how Bruce had already given his uniform to some new black haired, blue eyed boy. She taught him about Pack and family and how he always had a place in hers.

She'd lied, of course. Manipulated the facts until he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. It had taken a long time -and having his throat slit by the man who was supposed to have been his father- for him to separate himself enough to start to tease out those truths. Years.

He wasn't idle during those years, either. Red Hood had a territory to maintain, carving out the Bowery for himself one bloody chunk at a time. He ruled it with a fierceness that bordered on terrifying...but only to those on the outside. He protected those on the inside with tooth and claw, and over the years he'd slowly started to regain his control.

When the traffickers had moved in, he hadn't thought twice about taking them out, letting his hatred of such things get the better of his baser nature. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised to see Red Robin sniffing around his hunting grounds with the mess he'd left. He'd have to deal with the Pretender once he was finished cleaning up the ring.

Except, of course Tim just had to put himself in exactly the right spot on the wrong night.

Jason growled low in his throat as he leapt out, landing silently despite the fact that he was the size of a small horse. Piercing blue eyes focused on Red Robin, a streak of white amid thick black fur...and then he was rushing the man who'd come up behind the younger man, his jaws snapping closed around the trafficker's shoulder so he could drag him away.

It wasn't completely silent out there. Nature was all around him, and there was an owl off in the distance making some noise. The whole thing would have been sort of cool, if it wasn't for the way the shadows seemed to take on a life of their own in the moonlight. Every rustle of leaves was a monster getting ready to pounce and rip out his entrails. He had a pause for a second and focus on breathing, get more oxygen to his brain. That was the only way he'd stand a chance of beating the anxiety trying to overtake his mind.

Tim was just starting to feel a little more at ease when a growl broke through the night air and a huge furry thing jumped out at him. His heart nearly exploded in his chest, thudding violently in his rib cage. Shit, it was a giant wolf. Oh god. Oh no. Oh fuck. This was where he was going to die, wasn't it? Why did he think it was a good idea to come out here on his own? At the very least he should have had a comm so he could call for help if things got desperate.

He flinched when it darted towards him, only to see it rush right past. Okay, that part was confusing. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, quickly turning his head and nearly leaping out of his own skin when he saw how close he'd been to getting grabbed by the guy that had been sneaking up on him. He'd be so wrapped up in his imagined safety that he hadn't realized the actual danger that very nearly took him out. Bruce would have a cow if he knew.

That powerful set of jaws locked onto the man and started to drag him away. Tim wasn't entirely sure what to do. He stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed. "You can't just--!" Okay, why was he trying to reason with a wolf? Not his smartest moment. He leapt forward, grabbing onto the guy and trying to pull him back out of the wolf's grasp. "I don't want to have to hurt you but I'm not going to let you kill anyone." He grit out, scrambling against the beast even though he knew he didn't actually stand a chance. But it wasn't in his nature to just let someone die, even if they were evil. At the very least, he had to try to save the guy.

It was a little amusing, smelling that spike of fear on the younger boy, but still having to deal with the burst of heroics. Annoying, yes, but amusing nonetheless. The man screamed and scrambled to grab at the vigilante with the arm that wasn't a shattered lump under the wolf's jaws and the drag made Jason do a little hop with his hind end so that he could get a better grip.

He'd bitten this man. There was no way in hell he was going to let him survive now. Not only did Jason not want any other wolves in his territory (no matter what his instincts screamed at him), even if he did want his own Pack it wouldn't be made up of lowlife asshats like this. Jason was a monster, but even he didn't pack teenagers into trucks like cattle.

He growled again, low and threatening, the man in his jaws only an object as he leveled that cold blue gaze onto the stubborn Bat who'd dared come into his woods. It would be easy to just let go of the filth in his jaws and instead snap onto that outstretched arm...but he didn't.

Tim was a lot of things, annoying and perfect among them, but it had been years since he'd actually wanted the younger man dead. A lot of that had been Talia's influence, her anger at Bruce and her anger at Tim for stealing her father's affection almost on par with each other. She'd played him like a fiddle and he'd almost done her dirty work. He wasn't going to give her that now.

He was so focused on Tim that the man twisting in his jaws came as a surprise, a sharp pain tearing across his muzzle making him yelp and drop the knife wielding trafficker. It wasn't silver, it would heal fine, but it had come as a surprise and he pawed urgently at the gash as the man scrambled to his feet and dashed into the woods.

Fuck.

That threatening growl sent a shiver through Tim, freezing him in place for a long moment. Really made him reconsider going against a beast that could rip out his throat with little difficulty. All he had registered was that someone was in trouble and his job was to help people that were in trouble. He gazed up into the eyes of the wolf, unsure of how much the human side would have any say in what was happening. The internet had all sorts of theories, ranging from werewolves being nothing but stupid beasts to the human brain within operating as normal.

The distraction was enough that he too missed the knife until after it struck. Tim looked shocked, pushing back off and turning to see what direction the man had run off to. Every victim he'd become aware of was a bad guy, and he doubted this one was the exception. Also, the dumbass was going to bleed out from the wound on his shoulder if he didn't immediately get it patched up. Running off was probably the dumbest thing he could have done.

"I'm going to stop him." The vigilante announced to the wounded wolf, just in case the creature could understand him. "Please don't eat me." At least he was being polite about it, right?

Tim didn't wait around another moment. He rushed after the guy, pulling his collapsible bo staff out just in case. Following him wasn't terribly difficult even in the dark. The trafficker was running on pure adrenaline and not making any attempt to hide his tracks. Racing through the trees, he came across the man leaning against an old oak, gasping for air. "Don't move." Tim warned him, stepping closer. "You're losing too much blood. I'm going to help patch you up, but then I'm taking you in." He still had his duty to protect the streets, after all.

The internet was full of idiots and fanboys who had no real understanding of what they were talking about. However, in this rare particular case...they were right. The level of human thought that lingered in the wolf form was based on several different factors. From mental strength to the linage of the wolf who'd bitten them, even something as random and annoying as luck.

Jason hadn't always been so able to hold onto his human thoughts, nor did he always want to keep them in this form, but Tim was lucky that the intelligence that looked out at him from those pale blue eyes was unchanged from when he walked on two legs instead of four. His instincts had ridden him hard those first several years, but now all he did was curl his lip in a snarl as Tim ran off to chase his prey. His instincts wanted to snap out and crush the boy's ankle in his teeth...but he had bigger problems to deal with.

He'd bitten that jackass and hadn't been able to deliver the killing blow. Overhead, the moon hung heavy and pregnant and Tim....Tim was running headfirst towards a whole world of pain and danger.

For a moment he considered just letting the boy get what he deserved. It would take out the annoying little shit without staining his hands and then he'd be free to take on the accidental pup without distraction. Talia would be pleased with it, even if she'd be furious with him for his slip up. Tim had captivated the attention of her father, after all, and she was nothing if not jealous.

And yet, he pushed himself up from the ground, his muzzle already starting to stitch itself back together over the gleaming white of his teeth. He could hear them up ahead, could smell the bright fear from Tim....but he could also smell the agony and confusion from the trafficker. There was a sharp note there, a spreading sickness that only grew stronger as Jason traversed the forest.

He got there just as the man was turning from the oak. His wounds were no longer bleeding, his eyes wide and wild as his body was starting to ripple under the moonlight. He lifted thinning lips over fangs that didn't belong in a human mouth and there was absolutely none of the intelligence that Jason showed as he lunged for Red Robin. He caught Jason's shoulder instead and Jason yelped as he twisted to grab some part of the twisting body that had him, fur flowing and melting and churning in his jaws as they tussled.

The man in front of Tim didn't respond at first, and that was concerning. He inched closer, trying to be wary of the knife he knew the criminal had. "Hey, can you hear me? I think you might pass out soon, we need to patch you up fast." It didn't occur to him just what sort of danger he was exposing himself to. Though the internet forums mentioned bites, he didn't put two and two together in his own head right away. If he had, maybe he would have thought twice before cornering the guy.

He did notice that the wounds stopped gushing and that was enough to make him pause. He'd never seen anything like it, but it sounded a lot like what he'd read... The dots began to connect just as the man turned around and Tim saw the fangs. Well, fuck. That wasn't good. Tim cursed to himself, having just enough time to think that even if he survived this, he was going to end up turned too. There was no way he was going to be able to keep that guy from biting him, but he was going to have to try.

The contact that he was bracing for never came. At the last moment, there was a flash of fur and that huge wolf took the hit intended for Tim. The young man stumbled backwards, gasping desperately for breath as he watched the violence before him. He could hear the snapping of bones as the criminal's body shifted, sickening pops strong enough to make his stomach churn despite everything he'd been through. It didn't help that the air around him was thick with the smell of blood. His heart was pounding to the point that in a better state of mind he might have been concerned about it bursting.

Tim needed to run. To get out of there as fast as he could. No matter who won, either creature could turn on him next. His fight-or-flight instincts had him frozen instead, something that had never occurred during his time as Red Robin. He just stared in awe, trembling.

The change was never a pleasant thing to watch. Bones rolled under muscles and flesh, twisting and reshaping. Joints dislocated with sickening pops and squelching ripping sounds. Skin melted away with thick glops of thick, clear goop...but somehow the fur under it was dry. The skull was the worst part, bone elongating like clay under some invisible artist's hand. Teeth made for ripping and crushing sliced through human lips without any thought.

But as bad as the change usually was, that first change was always so much worse. Fear and pain and panic flashed bright in the man's eyes even as a half formed muzzle clamped down on Jason's shoulder, a sound like a boiling tea kettle leaking from around the jaws. It changed into the pained whine of a canine, desperate and terrified as he instinctively shook at the meat in his jaws. His hands had melted together into paws, but he was still trying to use them as hands as he scrambled to get some sort of grip on Jason's thick black fur. His scream as the great wolf twisted to clamp his own jaws into the side of his face morphed into a yelp, reddish brown fur coming out in clumps under Jason's jaws. Newly formed fangs loosened on Jason's shoulder and that was all it took for the bigger wolf to be able to twist away.

And then the fight really started. It was a fierce, wild thing, all instinct and raw nature instead of the tightly controlled rage of even the hardest fight between humans. They weren't fighting to defeat each other. They fought to feel the life blood of the other run over their jaws.

At least, that was how the slightly smaller reddish wolf was fighting. The big black wolf with the white streak was a wild thing...but each strike had a pattern. He was drawing the new pup away from the boy on the ground and, as the fight draw back enough to offer enough space, that big brick of a body was nimbly spun around to stand between the pup and the mask.

It lasted forever and only a second, time reduced only to heartbeats and snapping jaws and vicious growls that were more felt in the chest than heard by the ears. Blood flowed freely from both wolves, ragged rips in muscle and tendon as teeth tore at each other. And then, with one well placed bite around the reddish wolf's throat, it was over. Red stained black jaws stayed locked in place as the wolf held in them shrank back into a man, and only then did he drop the body.

There was almost something familiar about the way the black wolf fought, but Tim couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was obvious that it was clearly using strategy, at least compared to the way the smaller wolf lashed out. Two powerful beasts both doing everything they could to survive and take the other out. Frightened as he was, it was still something fascinating to watch. He couldn't look away.

The fact that the black wolf with the white stripe was clearly trying to draw the red wolf away and get between the two of them wasn't lost on him. Was it trying to protect him? Tim couldn't be sure, but it certainly seemed so. Either way he was grateful. Even if the red wolf was smaller than the black one, it was still large enough that Tim would struggle to defeat it on his own, even with the number of skills he had. He'd never been trained to fight a monster like this one. Even Bruce would probably have a hard time with it.

There was plenty of blood dripping onto the Earth below the two beasts, and Tim was astonished the criminal hadn't passed out yet. Had becoming a werewolf really made it so he could last longer despite all the blood loss? His moves did seem a little sluggish, but it was possible that the black wolf was just that much faster. The human fought the urge to tremble, anxiety causing his fingers to clutch around the plant life below him.

And then those vicious fangs sunk into the red wolf's throat and before Tim could get a word out, the larger wolf tore straight through it. Bile rose in his throat, and his hand covered his mouth in shock. He almost looked like he might cry, stunned by the sight of the man with the bloody throat dropping to the ground.

There was a beat of silence before he pulled his hand away. "You... you killed him." He murmured, but his usual self-righteousness was missing from his tone. No one deserved to die, Bruce hammered that in him from the moment they'd met, but in that moment, he genuinely felt conflicted. Surely if the criminal had been allowed to live, him being turned into such a ferocious beast would put the public in even more danger, right? His stomach churned at the thought and he finally had to look away, closing those pretty blue eyes of his for a moment.

Tim would have been dead against the trafficker turned wolf, and that wasn't a slight on the younger man. Humans, no matter how well trained, weren't designed to go up against a beast like that and live to walk away. For so long, humans had fooled themselves into thinking they were the apex predators of their world simply because they could use the weaponry needed to kill each other. Some still remembered the learned fear of the darkness, but most were skilled at ignoring their genetic memory of being hunted.

Bruce had thrived on that, after all. He'd taught them all to thrive on it. Jason had just taken the step that Bruce never had. Not that he'd had much of a choice in the matter.

Shaking the blood from his jaws, the black wolf turned to stare at the vigilante with those pale blue eyes. He didn't snarl, didn't lash out...but he also didn't try to defend himself. The look was human, but there was enough wolf to make it very clear that he didn't care one bit that Tim was judging him for killing a danger to the city. His muzzle was still knitting itself back together from some wound or another, sharp teeth visible through the shredded skin and fur. He let it heal, feeling the itch under his skin, and when he felt it finally close, he opened that great maw in a jaw cracking yawn.

It was late. His job was done. All that was left was deciding what to do with the Cuckoo on his territory. The wounds on his body were knitting much slower, so he had to put a little effort into heaving himself back up into a stand, but then he was lowering his head and growling low in his chest as he took a step forward.

Run, little bird. Run, and let him hunt.

Tim had, admittedly, been sort of an idiot to be in front of a dangerous beast and not keep an eye on it. His thoughts had clouded his judgement. Bruce would have been absolutely furious with him. But he was stuck in a position where, for the first time, he wasn't sure killing a bad guy had been the wrong idea. It shook him to his core and it was hard not to question everything. If werewolves could turn each other and the wrong person turned into one, there could be gangs of them roaming the streets slaughtering anyone who got in their way. Gotham would be in a lot of trouble.

His head turned when he heard the wolf pushing himself to stand, feeling a little pang of sadness at the effort he put forward to heave himself. Surely, even if wounds could recover quickly, they still hurt just as bad when they happened. And though the black wolf dominated the fight, he'd had plenty of wounds to show for it. Tim didn't really like seeing anyone in pain and this wolf saved him--

The growling made him pause again, heart rate immediately picking up. Tim kept his movements slow to ensure he wouldn't be seen as a thread, pushing himself up to his feet again. "I, uh. I'm just gonna..." He pointed behind him with his thumb. "I'll get out of your way." Each step he took to move backwards was careful, he was afraid that if he actually turned and ran that may provoke some sort of prey drive. So he was cautious, but he was definitely getting the hell out of there. Just slower than the wolf might have liked.

When he got a few more feet away, he paused for a second. "Thank you." The young man told the wolf softly. He was pretty sure he didn't need to explain what he was grateful for. The moment he was safely in the brush, he turned and took off.

The moment Tim started to move backwards, the growl stopped. A clear communication that as long as the masked man left, he wouldn't attack him. He had no real desire to murder the boy. Anymore, anyway. He had, once upon a time, his Lupa's words whispered in his eager ears....but that had been long enough ago that he could finally hear past the venom that had dripped from her heart.

But that didn't mean he liked the kid. If Tim kept poking his nose into places it didn't belong, he wouldn't shed a tear about snapping that pretty little neck between his teeth. Thankfully, that looked to not be the case for that evening. Good. As soon as the boy started running, Jason let out a soft whine, sinking back down to the bloodied ground. He still had work to do that night, but first...first he was going to lick his wounds a little and recover.

By the time the first rays of the sun kissed the horizon, the body of the trafficker was nowhere to be found and most of the signs of the battle were gone. The few hikers that would venture out this way would find nothing out of the ordinary, save for maybe the man who was apparently sleeping off a bender in the backseat of his old muscle car. And even he was awake and gone by noon, though he was favoring one side of his body over the other if there had been anyone around to see it. Evening found him with an overstuffed bag of cheap fast food burgers on the hood of that car. And later, as the city started to shake off it's slumber of the gentrified day and show it's true colors, Red Hood was once more hunkered down on a rooftop, looking every bit like he hadn't been AWOL for the last three days.

The thing about Tim poking his nose in places it didn't belong was that it was literally his job to do that all the time. So it was pretty easy to convince himself that it was a good idea to head straight to the Red Hood's territory the next night. They weren't friends, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Tim genuinely believed that he would be the most willing to hear him out about there being a giant wolf somehow stalking through Gotham.

Dick would just threaten to put him into a mental ward again, or something.

Now, every Bat is smart enough to know that Red Hood doesn't like his territory messed with, and he certainly doesn't appreciate them coming for little visits but--Tim has no other way to contact him. So he just takes the risk and goes for a nice little rooftop to rooftop stroll through the middle of Crime Alley. Knowing Hood, it won't take him long to realize that Red Robin is hanging around and he'll come by to kick him out.

Tim's not gonna go without getting him to hear him out, though.

As he moved, he kept reminding himself of why this was a good idea. Red Hood should want to keep Gotham safe from huge wolf beasts too. They don't even have to work together on it Tim just--well, he just sort of needs someone to talk to about it. As pathetic as that sounds.

Really, he should have expected something along those lines. Tim had never been the type to just let things lay, after all. It was what made him such a good Robin and an even better solo vigilante. Jason had spent a long time ignoring that quality, but he'd grown and now he could look at it with a begrudging respect.

He might not like the kid, but he couldn't pretend that he didn't respect him.

Still, catching Red Robin's scent in the slight drizzle of the night was a bit of a surprise. He hadn't thought the kid would have gotten anything from the night before that would tie him to what he'd seen...but maybe he'd missed something. There had been a lot of his blood on the ground, maybe Tim had gotten a sample before he'd ran off.

But what to do about the situation? He pondered it while he knocked a few drunks around, sending them home to lick their wounds before helping up the guy they'd been trying to rob. Then he kept pondering it while he made a circuit of the streets, checking in on the girls who were working to make sure he hadn't missed anything big while he'd been away. One of them had sported a shiny new black eye and he'd fussed over her for a few minutes before she'd laughed and smacked his arm to send him off. And it was only then, when his mood was at it's highest and thus he was less likely to lose his temper, did he grapple easily up onto the roof.

He landed quietly, but not silently, letting the gravel crunch under his boots as he strolled almost casually towards the intruder in his territory. He wasn't hunting. He was as safe as he ever got.

"I'll be nice and give you two minutes to explain to me why you thought it was a good idea to come to my part of the city uninvited before I chase you off with a hail of bullets."

Edited 2024-10-18 08:28 (UTC)

It was silent as Tim waited, but he didn't wander around in that time. He was smart enough to know that treading carefully on Red Hood's territory was still the best plan of action. He'd be lucky if he got any sort of greeting other than an assault. They weren't enemies these days, but they definitely were not friends. He was pretty sure Jason was always going to hate him for taking over as Robin, no matter how much he tried to insist that he just didn't want Batman to lose his shit and kill someone due to his grief.

There was a bit of tension in his shoulders, but otherwise he looked calm and casual even as he heard the gravel shift beneath footsteps. The young vigilante turned to look at him, trying not to look too relieved that Jason was going to give him a minute to explain himself before chasing him off. Things could have started a lot worse, it must be his lucky night.

"I need your help." He said, voice unwavering. "Something very strange just happened and I--" There was a slight cringe, because he knew what he sounded like. But he still kept talking, because he desperately needed an ally. "You're the only person who will believe me." They both knew how Dick could get. He certainly couldn't go to Bruce. He and Steph weren't on great terms at the moment. Cass was busy. And this was a Gotham issue, he couldn't bring in Kon for it without Bruce throwing a shitfit.

His cheeks were red under the mask, and not for the first time he was grateful for its ability to keep his vulnerabilities hidden. "There's a giant wolf in the woods. It's hunting people. Gothamites. It's really dangerous." After a small pause, because he was hesitant to continue and sound even more like a crazy person, he started speaking again. "I think it might be a werewolf based on research I did online."

The boy smell nervous, but that wasn't unexpected. If a Bat wasn't nervous in his territory, he was doing something wrong. But the small wave of relief that tinged the air was a bit of a surprise and Jason arched a brow in the safety of his helmet. It was a little novel, the idea that someone was relieved to have him around.

It settled the grumble in the back of his mind that Tim should be terrified, not nervous. If the boy knew that it had been him in the forest the night before, surely that would warrant more. So maybe....

Before he'd even finished the wishful thinking, Tim proved it to be true. He honestly didn't know, or if he did, he was skilled enough to lie with his scent. And considering most people had no idea they were even communicating with their scent...

"A giant wolf. In Gotham." He let his voice modulator bleed the words to a baleful monotone, crossing his arms over his chest. "A werewolf. Interesting.

And what exactly makes you think I would be the one to believe you? You have an entire family you could take this to, why the hell are you here?"

Because if Tim was just lulling him into a false sense of security, he could at least do the same. Plus, he was genuinely curious. It wasn't like they were on friendly terms, after all. He'd stopped following his Lupa's desire to kill the boy who'd infatuated her father, but he hadn't exactly welcomed the little Pretender with open arms.

Well, at least he didn't laugh. Tim took that as a positive sign and decided to keep going. "A few reasons. Mostly because even if you decide not to believe me, decide to just beat the shit out of me and leave me for dead, I believe you'd still not choose to turn a blind eye to something so potentially dangerous and decide I'm just crazy. I only have evidence of it hunting really terrible people so far, but what if that changes? What if it starts hunting anyone that goes out at night?" He was aiming to appeal to Red Hood's desire to protect the prostitutes that work the streets of their city. If Jason decided the thing was only going to go after bad people, he'd stop helping. Tim wanted to prevent that before it started, if he could.

"And as for the family, I--" He paused mid sentence. Jason did not want to hear about his rows with Damian, how he doesn't think he could trust Dick very much anymore, or how he found himself disagreeing with Bruce more these days. Anyway, he wasn't looking for any kind of sympathy. He's a misfit, but so was Jason, and maybe they can have that in common. "Things aren't going well with them." He summarized with a pathetic little shrug.

"I know how much you hate people in your territory, Hood." He's got a scar or two to prove it. "I wouldn't bring this to you if I didn't think it was really, really dangerous." Or if he thought he could handle it on his own. Tim was smart enough to know when he's out of his depth and it's time to bring in reinforcements. Jason's strength could prove to be a huge asset when taking on a giant wolf. "If it turns out I'm wrong about everything, I'll stay out of your territory for good. You have my word."

"Hn. Sounds like he's doing me a favor, if he's only taking out scum. Saves me a bullet." He was being an intentional ass, letting all of Tim's concern be met with baleful indifference. There was a part of him that still wanted to force it's way under the boy's skin...but mostly, he just didn't want Tim to think he was on the right track. After all, if Tim hadn't figured out the wolf from the night before was him, then there was nothing keeping Jason from just turning him away and slamming the proverbial door in his face. Except....

'Things aren't going well with them.'

He knew an understatement when he heard it and while there was a large part of him that wanted to bare his teeth and grin in victory, he didn't. After all, wasn't he here because he'd been pushed out, too? He knew how bad it hurt. Just because he didn't like the kid didn't mean he wanted to rub salt into the wound.

"Yeah, well. They suck. Sorry you had to figure that out, but at least you didn't have to die to see it."

Why had he said that? Fuck.

Raising his arms up to cross behind his neck, he tilted his head up to look at the smog filled sky before he huffed and shook his head.

"Fine. Lay it out like a case, show me what you've found." If nothing else, he could see exactly what Tim had so he could change his patterns accordingly.

Yeah, Tim had pretty much expected that first response. Jason wasn't likely to have empathy with violent criminals that hurt innocent people. He wished that he didn't understand the temptation to look away. Bright, shiny, young Tim would have been appalled at the idea. But he's been through a lot and sometimes he honestly just... gets it. That's his little secret.

His eyes widened behind the white eyes of his mask when Jason showed the slightest bit of empathy relating to his relationships with the rest of the family. It perhaps wasn't said in the nicest way, but the meaning was still clear. And it meant a lot to him, to feel like he wasn't alone in the situation. Obviously, even without the dying bit Jason had it worse. In a better world, this could have been Tim reaching out a hand to try to bring him back into the folds of the family. But this was not that world.

His focus was on the case, and he went through every detail that he had. Spared nothing, because there was no sense in trying to hide facts while trying to get Jason on his side with this. He was even honest about the crimes the shitty criminals had committed. As he spoke, there was a clear awe in his voice when he talked about the wolf. The fact that it had (seemingly reluctantly) saved him from getting his throat torn out by the bad guy. It was pretty obvious he didn't want to kill the thing, just find a way to get it to stop killing others.

Perhaps to Tim's shock --and certainly to his own--, Jason listened. He moved them away from the edge of the building so that no one could get a clear visual on them, opting to hop up onto a dormant air conditioning unit to sit on the edge. He moved smoothly, no sign of the fight from the night before in his body as he casually hoisted himself up and plopped down. He didn't offer Tim a spot to sit, but he didn't stop the younger boy from getting comfortable if he so chose. Alfred would be giving him a Look, but Alfred wasn't there and, more importantly, he'd probably never get to see the man again, anyway.

While Tim laid out the facts and all the information that he'd managed to scrape together, Jason peeled off his helmet, the fringe of white flopping into his eyes while he ran a gloved hand through the rest of his dark curls. He was still wearing his domino, of course, but his lenses were flipped up and the occasional question he interjected came in his own voice instead of the helmet's warped tone. It also let him use his nose a bit better, Tim's scent telling it's own story as he recanted the encounter from the night before. Fear, of course, but a twinge of excitement and just the faintest musk of guilt.

It was that last part that made him arch a brow, his domino shifting with the expression.

"So, let me get this straight. You had done the research and concluded that you were dealing with a werewolf before you decided to stake out the thing's known hunting grounds on the last night of a full moon? Jesus, kid. You got brass ones, I'll give you that. You're lucky it had a few brain cells left capable of human thought, cause it sure as hell didn't sound like that goon did.

Maybe it knows you. Or you know it. I mean, why else wouldn't it have just let ol' boy eat you? And, for that matter, aren't wolves supposed to be pack animals? Why kill someone it just turned just to save your skinny ass? Where is it's pack? Does it have one? Is this a 'I thought you only had one cat, not four identical ones' kind of situation?"

Why was he indulging this?

Shaking his head, he shucked off his gloves and reached into his jacket to pull out a half crumpled pack of cigarettes. The lighter was hot pink and cheap looking, but it fit inside the pack and he cupped one taped hand protectively around the little flame as he touched it to the tip of the smoke between his lips.

"Bear trap. I got a couple if you want to borrow them. Only lightly used."

Ah. Jason made some very good points, ones that Tim hadn't necessarily thought of himself. He'd been a bit too wrapped up in excitement to be able to think through that part of it. He knew he was lucky the thing chose to save him rather than rip him to shreds, but the idea that he might actually know the person behind the wolf wasn't one that had occurred to him. But if that were true, why wouldn't they have just said something to him?

His nose wrinkled when Jason lit the cigarette. The smell always irritated his nose, and though he did his best not to be judgemental about those who smoked them, he could hear Bruce's lecture like a tape on repeating running through his head. They could absolutely destroy a vigilante's career, not to mention take their life.

Jason had already died once, though, what did he have to fear?

The notion of bear traps made him feel ill. His cheeks flushed and he looked genuinely upset, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at him. There were practically flames in his eyes. "I am not going to use bear traps on a creature that chose to save my life!" He snapped, unable to help but come off as haughty in response to the suggestion. "If I just wanted to kill it, I could have found a way to do that without your help!"

How weird that he felt genuinely sad that Jason misunderstood him so much. He tried not to think about that, just turned away from him so he could leave. "Forget I said anything. I made a mistake coming to you with this."

There were plenty of reasons someone wouldn't just come up to Tim and declare themselves a werewolf. For starters, werewolves didn't exist. Right? They were a fable, a fable told to children to make sure they didn't go sneaking out of the house at night. They were right up there with vampires and unicorns and Black Friday sales that were worth waking up at 3 AM for.

And even if they were real....how many people would handle being approached by a monster like that without freaking out?

Jason smirked when Tim wrinkled his nose, turning his head to blow a plume of warm smoke up to join the rest of Gotham's blanket of smog. He could understand it, he'd been the reason for many of those lectures, after all. How many times had Bruce caught him smoking on the roof? He'd lost count long before he'd died, and each one had come with a 'don't do that to yourself, Jaylad'. It was a disgusting habit.

But it also helped to edge out the stink of the city as the smoke curls out from his nose. It wasn't like it could kill him anymore, anyway.

"Wait. Stop, kid. Just...stop." He sighed, flicking his ash before pulling one foot up to the edge of the unit he was sitting on so that he could drape one arm around his knee. "I'm just fucking with you. No bear traps. Besides, if it's as big as you say it is, a bear trap wouldn't do much anyway.

What's your goal? You don't want to kill it, you don't want to hurt it....so, what? Ask it nicely to go away? Threaten it to make it stop killing?"

Neither of those would work, of course. Jason wasn't going anywhere and the people he took out in those woods weren't people that could be handled by anyone other than possibly Bruce, himself. And even then, Bruce would need years to learn the limits of the supernatural world. The little would-be mage that Batman did have access to wasn't exactly trained. Or, you know, aware.

"Did you ever stop to ask yourself why it kills some people but not others?"

Though Tim would like to believe he'd never do what he was told by just anyone, he did still pause in his steps when Jason called for him to stop storming away. Maybe it was nothing more than knowing there was no one else that he wanted to go to for help with this, but he found hope rising in his chest when the older boy admitted he'd just been fucking with him. Such an admission should have made him angry, but it didn't. So maybe there was a positive side to being let down by so many people in your life that you had super low standards.

Nothing that Jason asked of him was unfair, but he didn't think he'd like his answer, either. "I guess... I'm not really sure." He brushed some of his dark hair behind his ear as he turned around, crossing his arms over his chest once more. This time it was a defensive gesture, though not because he felt physically threatened. Tim was wary he was about to get laughed off the roof, and he wasn't sure how he would take something like that. He shouldn't allow anything Jason said to hurt him, but that was easier said than done. "I don't want to hurt it, and I don't think it should have to go away if it lives here. I'd really rather not threaten it, and I might not be able to. But it has to stop killing people, Hood. You know why." He's not about to repeat any of Bruce's lectures to Jason. That'd be a dick move (and probably a Dick move), but it would be cruel. Tim might be fierce but he tries not to be cruel to anyone. Not like that.

"I know that there are a lot of people that believe that some people aren't worth an opportunity to redeem themselves." Present company included, obviously. "But one person shouldn't have to live with the weight of deciding the fate of all those evil people, right? It can't feel amazing." His lips twitched into a deeper frown. "And besides, imagine if someone else found out about this. They might be willing to hurt it or kill it in revenge. I don't want that, either."

Out of all of them, Tim was probably the one with the most capacity for cruelty in him...but he was also the one with the least drive the use it. It was oddly endearing any time that it was brought to Jason's attention. He didn't like it, mostly because he still wasn't sure if he was really willing to start forgiving the people who'd once been his family.

But Tim wasn't really a part of that, was he? Technically, sure, but in reality Tim was no more his brother than a rando on the street. Dick was his brother. Damian was his brother, though not through Bruce. But Tim was just...the kid who'd put his old uniform on.

The kid with the camera and too much luck.

Tilting his head up to the sky, he let out a plume of smoke and sighed before he flicked the cherry of his cig to the ground so that he could stash the rest of the stick back in the pack. It disappeared back into his jacket and he leveled his gaze back on the younger before he pushed himself off the AC unit, landing with a heavy thud on the fine gravel.

"Why aren't you terrified of this thing? Yeah, it saved you, but it's still not human. It's a monster, right? Something that goes bump in the dark. So why are you trying to save it instead of just laying out all this proof to B and letting him figure out if his 'code' extends to lycanthropes or not? Honest question."

"I am scared of it." Tim admitted without any hesitation. There was no point in lying, and he was not so brainless as to not be afraid of a beast like that. "I know that it could have ripped me in half if it wanted to. It had plenty of opportunities. But it didn't, Hood. It let me go. It took the risk that I wouldn't just try to find some way to get back to it and kill it. It trusted me. So I trust it."

Yeah, he sounded a little naive. There was still some of that left in him, even after all of the garbage that he'd been through. He had to trust his gut, that was important. And his gut told him that bringing Bruce in would be a bad idea. That killing the creature would be a bad idea. And he was firm in that belief, as he'd just displayed by being willing to walk away.

He gazed up at the red helmet that stared back down at him, dark bangs a little too long and barely out of the way of his eyes. Even through the whites of his domino, it was somehow clear that he was pleading with Jason. To understand. To be on his side. On his team. They weren't friends--he doubted that the guy would ever like him at all--but that didn't mean they couldn't be a damn good duo.

"Please, Hood." The younger man finally whispered, feeling vulnerable in a way that made his stomach twist.

'It trusted me.'

Well shit. He had, hadn't he? He'd been exhausted from the fight, already bleeding far too much...if Tim had wanted to put an end to the monster in front of him, it wouldn't have been easy, but it might have been possible. Especially since he'd apparently gone into those woods already expecting a werewolf. He didn't remember smelling silver that night, but that didn't mean it wasn't hidden away in Tim's belt.

Huffing out a grumbling sigh, Jason pondered his options. He could send the boy away. Call him an idiot and drive him out of his territory. Tim would go...but that would shut down any avenue of working through this without bloodshed.

He could pretend to just be helping from the outside. It would soothe Tim's need to Do Something while still being in control of the situation. He could feed Tim just enough information to keep him safe and out of his way where it mattered. But if Tim ever found out the truth--and he would. He was a lot of things, but a damned good detective was at the top of that list--any trust between them would be gone. There would be anger and hurt and possibly Tim bringing in the family just because he felt slighted.

The last option set his hackles on edge. Secrecy was a defense, a way to keep himself safe since he didn't have a pack to watch his back. Anonymity was crucial to keeping Ra's off his tail.

But he'd trusted Tim. Trusted the younger vigilante to not kick him while he was down. Trusted him not to just run back to Bruce and tell him all about the thing that went bump in the night. That was a pretty big trust...but exactly how far did it go?

It would be nice, not having to hide himself from absolutely everyone. He hadn't been lying earlier, wolves were pack animals and humans were herd animals and mixing the instincts of both was easier than one might imagine. He'd cut himself off from the rest of the League, denied his pack when he'd refused to go back after his failure to kill Batman and Robin. He was....alone. Had been alone for years.

"'Trust' is a strong fucking word, baby bird....but I'm getting there. Don't make me regret it." He said the words before he could think himself out of it, looking at the ground instead of watching the understanding bloom on that too young face. "Stay out of my hunting grounds. The people I take there can't be held in a human system. They'd rip their way out of it like it was nothing and not even pause to consider the people they kill on the way. I mean it, I won't save you next time."

While Jason was deep in thought, Tim was quiet. Silence was nothing new to him, so it didn't really bother him, and he always appreciated when someone gave him time to think things out before they demanded some sort of answer. However, that didn't mean he wasn't anxious about what Jason might thing of the whole thing. His bottom lip was lightly held between his teeth, a nervous habit that he hadn't quite managed to break.

Anyway, the older boy's silence was a sign that he was taking what Tim had to say seriously and was considering it. Tim could be faulted for a lot--he was as damaged as the rest of the Bat kids, in different ways--but his logic was usually pretty sound.

At first the response genuinely confused him, because it was so far from anything that he'd been expecting. He sooner would have thought Jason would shoot him than tell him that he was the wolf he'd run into that night. His mouth fell open as the realization hit him, and for a moment he could hardly breathe.

Pieces started to fit together in his head. The kind of people that were being hunted. The way the wolf had looked at him. Jason believing him about there being a werewolf without nearly as much of a fight as he might have expected. Instantly Tim knew that the older vigilante wasn't lying.

He was the wolf.

It was only years of strict training that enabled him to resist the urge to stutter out Jason's name. They were in uniform and that would be terribly dangerous, but he was absolutely stunned. "You..." Tim breathed, still sounding a little breathless. "I--Hood, I..." It had been an awful long time since he'd struggled so hard with words. Coherent thoughts weren't exactly popping up left and right. "We can't just--You can't just--if B finds out, he's going to do something!" Suddenly, Tim was terrified. The two of them fought something awful, and if Bruce thought Jason was a literal monster, what would he do to stop him?

"I'll try to help. Cover your tracks and keep him from finding out, but, god, Hood. This is so dangerous, there has to be a better way." Oh, Timothy. Why are you taking this on like it's your problem? Would it not be easier to look the other way? It's that damn conscience of his. It won't allow it. And he won't allow something to happen to Jason.

If it wasn't for the boy's genuine spike of panic, it would have been almost amusing to see Tim at a loss for words. The true Boy Detective, grasping for information just like the rest of them. Almost poetic, in a way. Except the boy was actually distraught at the idea of Jason getting caught.

Even to the point of offering to help keep Bruce off his tail. Damn. He really hadn't expected that and he frowned in the darkness of his helmet.

"Easy, Red. B's not gunna find out. He hasn't yet and it's not like I take people there every night. I cleaned out most of the monsters when I got back, remember? Breathe, kid. It's not worth hyperventilating over."

He wasn't worth hyperventilating over. At least, he hadn't been two minutes ago. There was no reason the fact that he was a lycan should have changed that.

"You're not covering anything for me. You're not involved in this. Nothing has changed, nothing's gunna change. I'm still the monster you all think I am. Go back to the Cave, little bat. Get outta my turf."

The helmet kept Tim from seeing the flash of his bared teeth, but the voice modulator did turn his growl of frustration into something reverberating and hellish.

Jason's words weren't exactly comforting, but Tim wasn't going to run with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, either. He had even more reason than ever to believe Jason wouldn't actually kill him, and he'd survived some pretty vicious beatings at the older man's hands. So it wasn't like he couldn't take it if things grew violent. Not that he particularly wanted them to.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Little bat. It was true, Tim was the smallest out of any of them, outside of Damian. Though with his parentage, he wouldn't be smaller than Tim for long. Still, the raven haired boy set his jaw in the same way he always did when he was feeling particularly stubborn. Much like the rest of the Bats, Tim had a nasty habit of sticking his nose somewhere it didn't belong and then gripping it tight like a pitbull with an arm between its jaws. His two biggest mentors were Bruce and Dick, so it's not like it was entirely his fault.

"I'm already involved in this, Hood." It was a non-too-gentle reminder that Tim had seen the beast in all its glory, and now he knew the human behind the wolf. Jason couldn't really expect him to just look the other way and hope Bruce didn't find out, right? Surely the Red Hood knew Timothy Drake better than that. He was a kid so painfully determined to get pictures of Batman and Robin he snuck out at a much too young age in the middle of the night. Giving up wasn't in his nature. Couldn't be, for him to survive out there.

And maybe he had a death wish, because Tim kept talking. "I might not agree with what you're doing, but you're not a monster. I'm sure you want me to think you are, but you saved me. Spared me. And you told me the truth. You're a person, Hood. Just like me. You're not a monster."

It was a family trait, sticking their noses into things that ought be left alone. Bruce had started poking into the Court well before he'd been old enough to really understand the consequences and that pesky little habit had trickled down to all of his adopted children. And even his biological one, though even Bruce didn't know the extent of that particular poking.

It would still be a few years yet before Jason would find out if he was going to have a packmate in Gotham or not. If Damian did end up shifting, it would make things complicated, but it wasn't like he didn't have experience with complicated. Tim, however, was a complication he didn't want. After all, the little mage might not have been the conniving usurper that Talia had painted him out to be, but he had still girlbossed his way into Jay's old place at Bruce's side.

"You don't fucking get it, do you? You're not involved. You figured out my hunting grounds, oh wow. There is so much more to this world that you haven't the foggiest idea about and, more importantly, if you start poking your nose into those things, Talia will send someone else after you. Don't think for a moment that just because I was more pissed at her for lying than at you means that I'll step in to save you when a pack shows up to rip your throat out.

And if you don't want to believe that, then believe this: B hasn't figured it out yet because B doesn't see me. He doesn't want to see me. But you're his perfect little protege and you, he'll see. You being here will get me caught faster than anything else."

He shoved a gloved finger into the Red Robin emblem that was set into the cross of the boy's chest harness, putting enough force into it to shove him backwards.

"I'm not afraid of her." Tim barked back at him, the fearless little idiot. Talia and her pack might be powerful, but he'd taken down her father and his goons before. Ra's was obsessed with him, regularly tried to kidnap him. Yet, here he stood, facing down Jason and his very obvious annoyance. Just minus a spleen. (Yes, he blamed Ra's more than the Council of Spiders.) "And I don't need you to save me. I can take care of myself." Perhaps not entirely true when talking about a wolfpack, but he'd figure it out. He always did. How many thousands of times should he have died by now?

It was the second thing that made the younger boy pause. Unfortunately, Jason had a point. Not about Tim being his perfect little prodigy, but about Bruce being more likely to figure out what was happening if he was involved.

Before he could respond, he was being shoved, and a gloved hand reached up to grab around Hood's wrist before he could fall backwards on his ass. It was a tight grip, determined, but nothing Jason couldn't break out of. The second Robin would always be stronger than him. That wasn't even a question. He clenched his jaw in that signature Tim Drake way as he let go, steadying himself on his own.

His voice was almost eerily calm when he spoke. "I am already involved. If you want to change that, you're going to have to kill me." Quite the gamble, to challenge someone that has beaten the ever-loving shit out of you before. "You don't have do this alone, Hood. So what's it going to be?"

"You should be!" It was all but snarled, a warning and an expression of anger all with a show of teeth that was a little human than he'd intended it to be. Ra's was obsessed with him. Ra's wanted him alive.

Talia very much did not. Talia had spent countless hours over three years shaping Jason to be the perfect weapon against Tim Drake. Cultivated a hatred for the boy in him that still occasionally reared it's head if he didn't constantly keep it in check. Set him on Tim's trail with everything but a blood trail to follow.

He'd come so close to ripping the boy's throat out that night in the tower. He'd wanted to, because killing Tim would make his Lupa happy and....and in the end, Tim's complete lack of understanding had derailed all those careful years of grooming. Because as much of a monster as his family liked to paint him as, he wasn't about to murder someone who had no idea of why he was being murdered.

But the wolves that Talia would send? They would make Jason look like a puppy someone found under a dumpster.

He snapped his teeth a little at the hand that grabbed his wrist, but he wasn't actually trying to make contact. It was too close to the full moon, his wolf was still riding high, just under his skin. He could feel all those instincts rubbing themselves against his insides like some great beast and...and it was a little hard to remember that he was on two legs instead of four.

Taking a step back to put a little more distance between them, Jason grumbled a little as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not gonna kill you unless you make me kill you, kid. I'm serious, though. There is no 'dipping your toes' into this world. There's a cannonball off the high dive into the deep end or there's getting held under until you either grow gills or die. Walk away.

I don't need your protection. Been alone for years, why change now?"

Tim didn't back down. Just as he didn't back down upon their very first meeting since Jason's rebirth, when he was asked if he thought he was that good. It wasn't in his nature, and he stood his ground even when he saw the teeth snap at him. He continued to watch Jason's face, measuring his expressions and anything that might be behind them. The older boy didn't tend to hide his emotions when he felt passionate about something. Tim appreciated it.

"I can't walk away when I already know!" He argued stubbornly, huffing at him. Jason had a better chance of sprouting wings and flying off the roof than getting Tim to agree to forget he'd pieced everything together. The dark haired boy crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a hip. "I'm already in the deep end, so why does it even matter how I got here, Hood? I'm here, and there's no changing that. If she's going to come after me, wouldn't it be better if I learned how to defend myself from her pack anyway? Even if I pretended not to know anything, if she found out the truth, she could decide to kill me at any minute just for knowing, am I wrong?" He was fairly certain he wasn't, anyway.

"I know you don't need my protection. But we could be a team. A good one." The frustration melted off his face into... well, it wasn't exactly pity, probably something closer to commiseration. His voice was softer when he spoke up again. Sad. "The loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering." His arms uncrossed again, getting rid of the subconscious signal that he was closed off. "Sylvia Plath said that, Hood. And she's right, it's just--If you've been going through all this--you shouldn't have to do it by yourself."

There was still a very good chance he'd piss Jason off rather than win him over with his appeal, but he was trying, damn it. He was never nearly as good at this whole ~feelings stuff~ as other members of the family.

Jason had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions. It was one of the reasons that Bruce had picked him up, but it was also the main reason that Bruce never believed that he hadn't pushed Garzonas. He couldn't keep the hatred and anger off his face to make his 'I didn't push him, B!' believable, even though it was true. He hadn't pushed that rapid asshole....but he hadn't saved him, either. And to Bruce, that was the same thing.

Just as he couldn't keep his face neutral then, he couldn't now, and he snorted as he rolled his eyes a little.

"You think you're in the deep end just because you know that werewolves exist?" There wasn't any venom in the words, however. Just a tired disbelief. The Sylvia Plath quote struck a chord and he sighed as he slumped back to lean against the AC unit.

"You wanna be a team? With me? What, you wanna be my Robin, little mageling? Fine, but first you take all that research that you poured into finding me....and you turn it towards your mom. Follow that rabbit hole and then come find me when you get to the other side."

He didn't wait for Tim to respond or ask questions. He'd said his piece and with that, he pulled his helmet back on and casually grappled off to another building. He was done talking for the night, apparently.

There was no chance for him to get a word out before Jason was just gone. Tim couldn't mask the confusion on his face. Mageling? His mother? Was the older vigilante implying that his mother wasn't just a normal human? Sure, she could gaslight girlboss gatekeep with the best of them, but something magical? He stood there dumbfounded, trying to decide if Jason was fucking with him or not. There was no reason for him to do it this way, if that was his goal. But it made no sense, none at all.

Tim didn't sleep at all that night. He started pouring his entire being into figuring it all out. Plenty of people insisted that magic was real, and there were seemingly endless posts of people claiming they either could perform it, or had seen it done. He figured about half of them were total lies, and most of the rest were probably people easily tricked. But there were a few that sounded compelling enough to make him question himself. Especially since, y'know, werewolves were real and all that.

It was still hard to believe. His mother, able to use magic? According to the only reliable information he could find, practitioners were few and far between, and the ability to use magic was passed through bloodlines--only through the mother or not at all. Why wouldn't Janet have told him if this was the case, though? She'd had every opportunity. Tim had never experienced anything abnormal that made him think he was different than any other kid. Maybe he didn't inherit the power? But then, how would Jason have known? He must have been able to tell in some way, Tim was fairly certain that if he and his mother had met at all, it would only have been in passing at some gala Bruce forced Jason into. Not a good place to talk magic, especially because Jason would've been a normal kid at the time.

It was days before he sought out Jason again, this time with a lot of questions and very few answers.

Funnily enough, Jason and Janet had met. Once. It was exactly as Tim had thought, a gala that he hadn't been able to talk his way out of. She'd caught him on some half hidden balcony, smoking. They hadn't spoken, he'd arched a brow at her as he'd taken a drag and she'd tried to hide a smirk behind tightening her lips and then she was gone. Off to find her own half hidden balcony. Bruce had later commented that she'd mentioned him, but he had no idea why she hadn't ratted him out.

Years later, Talia had shown him a picture of her son in his old uniform and the dots hadn't connected for quite a while. Brain damage did that to someone, even someone who'd gone for a swim in a Lazarus Pit.

He wasn't surprised to see Tim loitering at the edge of his territory, but he was wearing his helmet and his smirk was safe as he easily leapt from one roof over to the other, landing with a small grunt and cocking his head at the younger boy.

"I'm not a lap dog to call whenever you want me. Some of us are busy. You wanna talk, you can patrol with me. Come on." He didn't wait to see if Tim baulked at the invitation to move deeper into the Narrows, the first Bat to be this deep without Red Hood shooting at them since Jason had claimed the territory. Perhaps just as surprising, however, was the fact that he wasn't leading Tim towards another roof.

He was heading down to street level.

"So, what did you find, Joe Hardy?"

Tim didn't balk when Jason invited him deeper into his territory, but he did make a face. Mostly because he hadn't even come close to treating Jason like a lapdog, so it was a silly comment. But he knew it was special that he was being permitted to patrol with Jason in the Narrows. Bruce would have a cow if he knew. Tim doesn't even think twice, just walks along with him down the street.

Did the Red Hood usually patrol at street level? It made sense, since everyone saw him as a vicious gang leader. Not something that Tim could pull off in any part of Gotham on his own. At first he was quiet, gazing around with a curiosity that he couldn't mask even behind his domino. The place looked a lot better than Tim had been led to believe. No kids on the corners doing drugs or selling their bodies underage, no bodies left lying in alleyways to rot, no little old ladies getting their purses snatched. Whatever Jason was doing, it was working.

His head snapped to look back over at the metal helmet at the question, eyebrows furrowed. "My mother was... gifted, wasn't she?" The younger of the two sounded a little hesitant, but only because it was still so hard to believe. That he could go his whole life having no idea what she was capable of. What he might be capable of. "Magic, if it gets passed down, it's always through the mother. And you believe she passed it to me. That's why you called me that. That's why you told me about her."

His gloved hand reached back to rub at the back of his neck, showing his discomfort with the whole idea of it. Even if he were capable of learning magic, who would teach him? What would Bruce do if he found out. What would Ra's do if he found out? Or did he already know? Was that why he was obsessed with him?

"I'm not sure what to do about all of this."

The Eastend was still obviously the dredges of the city. Garbage overflowed, prostitutes worked freely. There were no police presence past the theater that Tim had claimed as his own and only one in maybe five fire hydrants were actually still intact. The city had shoved this place behind it's fancy curtain and what happened here was of no concern to the rest of Gotham.

If there was a fire or a flood or any other kind of disaster here? People would die. But it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't be the kind of people that Gotham really cared about. Unless a senator or a well to do billionaire got caught with their pants around their ankles, it probably wouldn't even make prime time news.

But that didn't mean the place wasn't protected. Red Hood moved through the streets like he owned them because he did. More then a few people gave him little nods of acknowledgement before catching sight of the figure walking next to him. They almost always ended up crossing the road to walk on the opposite side walk and Tim would no doubt hear the little chuckle that Jason gave.

"They're scared of you, Spleenless Wonder. It's kinda cute. Come on, I bet you didn't eat anything before patrol." He gestured towards a little corner bodega, the overhead sign proudly proclaiming something in Greek. Inside, the small space was taken up by tightly packed shelves and humming standing coolers, a carefully maintained path winding through the organized chaos. The path ended up near the back wall, where Tim would see a small short order kitchen was set up. The man behind the counter smiled wide and started talking as soon as he saw who his customers were. The conversation was quick and entirely in Greek, with many gestures towards the back and more than a few enthusiastic nods before Hood jerked a thumb at Red Robin and said something that had the distinct cadence and pattern of an order. It was only when the man nodded and turned back to his cook top that Hood turned back to his company.

"'Gifted' is probably the understatement of the century, but yeah. You mostly got it. Your mom could throw around some serious mojo and I'm pretty convinced that she passed that down to you in a big way. Well...me and some pretty big players who I'm not going to name but I'm sure you can guess.

Just wait until you try this man's gyros. They are legit the best I've ever eaten. You wanna find us some drinks? Limon-lime Zestie for me, kid."

Tim didn't figure anyone outside of a select few had ever actually feared him. Certainly not everyday civilians. So he was caught even more off guard than usual when he realized that Jason somehow knew about his spleen being gone. Was it something he could smell? Or did he hear about it because he had connections with the league, and Ra's was kind of obsessed?

Either way, Jason wasn't wrong. He hadn't eaten before patrol, and often afterwards he was far too tired to do anything more than gnaw on half a protein bar and then crash. No one would argue that Tim had a very healthy lifestyle, even for a vigilante. And sure, there's every chance that this was only happening because Jason was hungry, but it sort of seemed like he was looking after Tim. Much more like the wolf that saved his sorry ass, and a lot less like the angry vigilante that bared his teeth at him the other night.

"Serious mojo." The younger of the two repeated, looking confused about several different things. He'd always seen Janet as a very powerful woman--but she was his mom. Didn't all kids think their moms were powerful? But the minute Jason brought up big players, his mind was reeling trying to figure out who he could be referring to. One of them had to be Ra's, right? But it was hard to imagine Ra's would know he allegedly had all of this power and ever let him out of his sight.

Tim frowned in thought as he obediently fetched Jason's Zesti, and got a cola flavored one for himself. "If they all know, how come they haven't done anything about it?" He couldn't help but asked when he turned back, setting the drinks on the counter. "Wouldn't they want to... I don't know, recruit me or something?"

The thing about the Eastend was that most people had been driven there. It wasn't a place that people wanted to live if they could at all help it. And a lot of the people here had been desperate enough to steal at least once. The Bats as a general rule didn't stop to question why someone was stealing. They just swooped in and put an end to it. Usually with jail time and fines and at least a few bruises or a broken bone if someone made the mistake of trying to run.

Hood put a stop to it...but then asked questions. Rooted around until he figured out why someone was being driven that low. And as long as it was a legitimate reason, he let them go with a warning and a fairly bought bag of groceries. Or medication. Or hundred dollar bill tucked into their pocket and always with a list of local Eastend resources that could and, more importantly, would help in the future. Most of which were Hood owned and operated.

The Bats didn't come to the Eastend. Hood lived there. It fostered a closeness.

By the time Red Robin came back with the drinks, there were two bursting at the seams bags of food on the counter and Hood was trying to pay. Trying being the key word in that sentence. The man was trying to only accept half of what Jason was trying to shove in his direction. They argued for a few minutes longer, then the chime over the door went off and the man glanced up to greet his new customer and Jason took the opportunity to shove the rest of the bills into the tip jar that the man had tried to tuck back behind the counter.

He ignored the flustered words that followed, gathering up the two giant bags of food and jerking his head at Tim to follow him back out onto the street.

"What do you think Ra's has been trying to do, kid? Take you to summer camp? He's been frothing at the mouth to get you tucked neatly into his side since you showed up next to B. It's one of the main reasons Talia wants you dead. So far, he's been the only one stupid enough to try anything, though. The rest are all a little more cautious. Between your last name and all the warding your mom left on you, they're hoping that Ra's triggers all the big shit before they come in to try their hands.

Here, you take this. I'll take the right side, you take the left. If they say no, don't argue and just offer it to the next."

He handed over one of the overstuffed bags of food before turned into an alleyway. A makeshift tent city had been set up, it's people greeting Hood with respectful nods and Red Robin with wary glances. Most of them anyway. A few of them were focused on the bag Red was holding and were coming forward with hopeful caution even as Hood was starting to hand out foil wrapped gyros from his own bag.

Tim supposed that Jason had a point. Ra's did enjoy stealing him away whenever he found an opportunity. He's just surprised the old bastard hasn't locked him in a cage or something. Still, the phrasing made him shudder with distaste. No part of him wanted to be tucked into Ra's side, thank you very much.

"My mom left warding on me?" His voice was quiet now, very obviously lacking his usual confidence. Janet was... Well, she'd never been a great mother, but she wasn't as bad as his father was. It was just hard to imagine that she'd be trying to protect him to that level but never said anything about the supposed magic locked inside of him. Not something he can ask about now, obviously. Tim really hated how little he knew about all of this, his brain was working overtime to try to piece it all together.

The bag of food was a good distraction, and he watched with curiosity as people approached the Red Hood. His cheeks flushed when he realized what Jason was doing. Tim and the rest of their fucked up little family protected the people of Gotham, but Jason was actually taking care of them. Making sure no one went without. Jason was--was a far better person than any of them, wasn't he?

It was clear they were wary, and he couldn't really blame them. Tim offered them a gentle, only slightly forced smile, and carefully began to dole out food. He'd just never been the most sociable guy. After the first person or two, he was able to get past his own discomfort and appear more approachable. Even struck up a few casual conversations, introducing himself and asking a bit about the Red Hood. They clearly admired him, and it made Tim see Jason in a brand new light. He'd never tell Bruce about this, of course, but he wished the man could see it for himself.

By the time his bag was empty, his heart was warm, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He gazed over at Jason like he was looking at someone brand new, trying to figure him out.

He wasn't better than them. He was, perhaps, better than they thought of him, however.

The people relaxed as Red Robin relaxed, offering small 'hello's or 'thank you's as they were handed the foil wrapped goodness. A couple of the older men were watching Red with wary eyes, shooing away kids that wanted to linger or play with the black cape. When the food was all passed out, they offered to take the empty paper bag off his hands, balling it up and throwing into one of the couple of garbage bin fires that were in the middle of the alley.

An extra minute of warmth against the chill of Gotham's winter along with a full belly. A good night.

By the time Tim was looking for him, Jason was also finished passing out food. He'd moved a little further into the alley, leaning against the cold brick as he shared a smoke with a couple of others, his helmet tucked carelessly under one arm. He still wore his domino, but the easy way they passed the cigarette made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd lingered. The group chatted quietly in Spanish, and if Tim approached they paused for only a moment before Hood gave them a nod to continue. Mostly, it was just a run down of how everyone was doing. Who was sick, who had managed to get a bed at a shelter. Who was using and who was refusing to go to Hood's safe-use sites.

The latter pulled a frown to Jason's lips before he huffed out a puff of smoke and passed the smoke back over. Finally, he said his goodnights and pulled his helmet back on, gesturing for Tim to follow him further down the alley. Once it turned into a crossroad, he pulled out his grapple and the bark of it was quiet against the backdrop of people mulling behind them. Back up on the rooftop highway, he lead them a few buildings over to a little nook that was protected from the wind. He reached into his jacket, pulling out the two gyros he'd stashed away.

"You look shocked, Replacement. Here, eat this before it gets cold." He passed over Tim's foiled food, then gracelessly flopped onto the ground so he could start unwrapping his own. "Did you honestly think that someone could make the jump that you did and only lose a non-vital organ without some sort of protection? Sit down, eat your food. We've got a long night ahead of us. Did you remember our drinks?"

It was fascinating to see Jason talking with the men. Tim's Spanish wasn't nearly as good as Jason's, but he was able to catch the gist of what they were talking about. They were reporting in about their community. Tim's never had a regular citizen update him on how things were going on Gotham's streets. It didn't even occur to him that he could build those sort of bonds. Not exactly something Bruce had taught him during his time as the Boy Wonder.

The younger of the two followed dutifully as they walked away, with only the smallest glance over his shoulder towards the people that watched them leave. A slightly awkward wave and he too pulled out his grapple so they could head out. The nook was a nice spot, obviously one Jason was fond of, because he hadn't hesitated to go there right away. That was good enough for Tim, who felt a lot safer with Jason by his side than he had any right to.

His time was Ra's, the missions, falling after being kicked out of a window--it was true that Tim had been lucky to be alive, let alone as uninjured as he was. Missing his spleen meant his immune system wasn't quite as good, but that was hardly unmanageable. But Jason was saying that it was his mother's magic that had protected him, even then. Tim's stomach twisted a little at the thought. He'd never been quite grateful to have her as a mother, but maybe he should have been.

He frowned to himself as he took a gyro and a seat. Once he handed Jason his drink, Tim gazed out at the city in front of them as he forced himself to take a bite of food. One taste, though, and he was able to eat a little more enthusiastically. "Man, you weren't kidding about this place." The gnawing at his stomach lessened as he ate. Jason hadn't just been taking care of the people in Crime Alley, he'd taken care of Tim, too.

"So how do I activate this magic? Or do I need to go somewhere to learn it?" His nose wrinkled at the thought, because the only person that came in mind to be a teacher was Ra's, and ick. That man was far too obsessed with him for Tim to be okay with that idea.

It wasn't something that Bruce had taught him, either. Or the League, though he'd honed the skill during his time under Talia's tutelage. No, being a community and keeping a constant flow of trust between people, that was something that Jason had learned during his time in that ally. He'd learned it because he'd lived it. Hell, one of those men he'd been talking to had been off and on the streets for as long as Jason knew. The man had no idea he'd been talking to one of the kid's who'd huddle around the fire with him, but Jason sure as hell remembered.

He tore into his food as soon as Tim had settled into eating, making pleased sounds between bites. He'd eaten before he'd left for patrol, but they were only a week or so away from the last full moon, his metabolism was still set to 'stupid' high. It would slow over the next few days, but until then he'd be snacking ever few hours or so. His gyro disappeared far faster than Tim's, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a chance to sip at his drink....and pull a book out from one of the inner pockets of his jacket.

"Honestly? I don't got a clue, kid. But...this might help." He reached out, offering the leather bound pages. It was a journal of some kind, handwritten in sharp, precise lettering that Tim would probably recognize fairly easily. "I have no idea how Talia got it, but it's yours. At least, it should be. Pretty sure it's a grimoire she wrote for you, but I didn't read too much of it. Wasn't my place. She was trying to use it to make me hate you more." He shrugged, refusing to look over at the younger boy. "She was a piece of work, your mom. Pretty sure she only used your name once."

Just because Janet had left something to help her son didn't mean she wasn't still Janet Drake. It was still more than he had of Catherine, which had been Talia's whole point, but that clipped, abrupt handwriting hadn't been quite as motherly as Talia had hoped.

"Read on your own time. I've got shelters to check on and lock down. Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls on the way."

There was something special about the leather bound journal that Jason held out for him. Tim gasped softly, admiring the faint glow he could see around it. That was definitely his mother's handwriting, and... the journal almost seemed to be calling out for him, somehow. He reached for it, blinking slowly as he heard that Talia had gotten ahold of it somehow. No doubt to try to kill off Batman's newest Robin and her father's favorite.

"I wish I was at least a little surprised." Tim brushed his fingertips along the high quality leather, then carefully took it from Jason. Of course his mother hadn't bothered to use his name more than she absolutely had to. He'd expected nothing less. Still, the power within resonated without him even flipping the book open. Tim didn't have to look to know that every aspect of his hidden powers could be found inside. "Thank you. For giving it back to me."

It was almost painful to put it away and push himself up to follow Jason. Always the obsessive sort, he wanted to tear it open and memorize every word. But now wasn't the time. Tim spent the rest of the night thinking about what might be inside, dreaming up different ideas. As much as he was interested in trying to find a way to spend more time with Jason, he was just as eager to head home and see what he could figure out.

If there was something special about the book, it was only for Janet Drake's son. For Jason, even as a semi-magical cursed being in his own right, it was just a book. Old and obviously well cared for and probably some degree of 'special' based on those factors alone, but nothing more than that.

Even so, Jason understood the care and reverence that Tim showed it. A connection to a family lost. It was important enough just for that. Jason would have given anything to have something like that from Catherine.

The rest of the night passed easily enough, Hood showing Red Robin around his territory in a way that he never had with any of the other Bats. He even introduced Red to a couple of the ladies who worked various corners, letting them coo over the new blood as he quietly slipped bills into the hands of anyone who seemed younger than his current company. One even stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against the 'cheek' of his helmet and Jason grumbled a little as he turned back to the mocking of the older workers.

He escorted Red all the way back to 'their' rooftop at the end of the night, sending him home with a gruff 'Not bad, kid. See you next time'. So maybe he wasn't completely banned from the wolf's territory?

Tim knew Janet as well as anyone could, so he expected before even opening the grimoire that the pages wouldn't hold the secrets to what he knew of white magic. Selfless hadn't been a word in her vocabulary. Yet somehow he was surprised at the darkness contained within. Dark magic--blood, shadow, necromancy--tools that could be manipulated and twisted to accomplish extraordinary things.

Disgust was the first emotion burning in his belly, but Tim's quick mind rapidly formed ideas on how it could be used in a less destructive way. Using his own blood to strength spells rather than harm another, using shadow magic to improve his own stealth and summoning shadows to have his back in a fight, speaking to the dead to solve a particularly difficult crime. There were options. The cost would be heavy, though. His soul. What was left of his innocence. Even his morality, if he wasn't careful.

So wrapped up in everything he was leaning, Tim didn't reappear on 'their' rooftop for nearly a week and a half. Only once he was satisfied that he'd learned everything he could through research, had memorized every symbol, and was fluent in the secret language in the book. All that was left was to... actually practice. And he didn't want to do that alone. Which was silly, really. What was Jason going to do to save him if something went badly? Still, despite his neglected self-care (far worse than usual, oops), Tim stood tall and looked incredibly determined. Waited for Jason to appear and stared up at him without flinching.

"I want you to be with me when I try this out." It was not phrased as a request or as a question. Tim clearly expected it of Jason, and wasn't shy about it.

All in all, Jason had expected Tim to take a hell of a lot longer to read, translate, learn, and understand an entirely new way of thinking. He'd been fully expecting to not see Tim again until after the next moon. So when the little camera he'd hidden up on that rooftop pinged motion, Jason arched a brow and very nearly missed the shot he was laid out to take.

Nearly.

His rifle barely gave a jerk in his hands, thumping back against his shoulder, and somewhere across town towards Cape Carmine, there was the sound of a large truck colliding with a wall. Just Gotham sounds, right?

It took him nearly half an hour to stash his rifle case before landing quietly on their rooftop, his smirk safe beneath his helmet as he eyed the younger man. "What did I say about not being your lap dog?" The modulator stole a lot of the amusement from his tone, but not all of it.

"You look like shit. And you smell like you might have a little blood in your coffee stream..."

Even with the modulator, Tim knew when Jason was teasing him. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocked one hip to the side, and continued to stare him down. The insult didn't phase him, nor did the little comment about how much coffee he'd had in the past few days. Though it was a little annoying to know that Jason could actually smell it on him, thank god the people who actually gave a shit about his well-being didn't have that capability, or he'd never get away with half the things he did.

"I worked really hard to translate this." His crystalline eyes flicked towards the grimoire still gripped in one hand. "If even half if it is true, there's a lot of extremely dangerous things that I'm capable of. Do you really think it's wise if I start experimenting by myself?" Look, it was growth for Tim to seek out someone to be there by his side for this. He'd been doing everything on his own for so long that it was far more comfortable to continue that pattern.

Besides, he had one concern that rose above the rest. "The minute Ra's realizes that I'm unleashing... whatever it is inside of me, he'll get to me as fast as he can." Tim didn't look worried, but he was. The last thing he needed was to end up trapped by Ra's and have the disgusting bastard try to force him to have an heir for him again. Gross. "There isn't anyone else I can rely on with this, Hood. You're the only person I can trust." He grit his teeth.

Trust. It was a strange concept in this particular context and Jason sucked in a sharp breath when the word was voice so casually. He didn't trust people. Not anymore. He'd been used too many times, then discarded or traded away for something more appealing. The word triggered an automatic curl to his lip and a stiffening in his spine that warned of how close Tim was treading to a dangerous topic.

But as much as he wanted to lash out and snap his teeth at the idea that Tim could trust him...he didn't. Because he'd stalked the boy enough to know that Tim Drake didn't trust anyone, either. Not after Dick had pulled the Robin suit out from under his feet and handed it to Damian, anyway. At the time, he'd gotten a sick sort of kick out of watching the two younger boys fight over the position, a little bit of the bitterness from his own replacement rearing it's ugly head, but even he thought Dick had pushed it too far when Tim had disappeared out of the country. It had been almost familiar enough to make him follow. He hadn't, because Tim had always been a better Robin than him, but he'd used his connections left in the League to make sure the boy wasn't dead.

And now, on their rooftop, Jason made himself relax as he leaned against an air conditioning unit because he knew exactly how hard it was to open up to someone like that after having been burned that badly.

Reaching up, he thumbed open his helmet and eased it off, shaking out his curls as he set the heavy piece of equipment next to him. His eyes were still covered, his paranoia apparently an everyday habit, but he flipped up his lenses so that Tim could see the pale slate of his eyes.

"You're fucked in the head if you think I'm going to sit back and let you throw magic around for the first time when you haven't eaten or slept in the last- what? Forty-eight hours? I'm pretty fucking durable, but that doesn't mean I want to be hit by whatever wild shot your sleep deprivation sends at me. Magic fucking stings and it heals almost human slow. But, if you take the night to eat and sleep, I'll see if I can find us somewhere tucked away enough to not raise any red flags for ol' tall, dark, and insane."

Trusting Jason was a huge risk. Tim knew it. And the little voice in his head kept whispering that he'd be better off doing this alone, the way he always insisted on doing things these days. Dick taking Robin and threatening a mental institution had changed a lot about him. This was too big for him to do alone, though. There was a lingering fear that he hadn't voiced yet. That he would become too dangerous and need to be put down. Jason was more than capable if that was what needed to happen.

Seeing the werewolf's eyes put him a tad more at ease. Without the helmet in the way he could better understand the man's thoughts based on his facial expressions. His fists clenched immediately upon hearing what Jason had to say. It had been more than forty-eight hours, but Tim regularly operated on zero calories and zero sleep. Bruce had trained him to have that same careful control over himself no matter the situation. At times it had felt like torture, but he was better for it now.

Yet his rational brain said that Jason knew more about magic and was probably making a good point. Tim could do more than just hurt the wolf by accident. His powers were allegedly such that he could kill it without ever meaning to. That wasn't a risk they should take. So despite his clenched jaw and visual displeasure, he gave a little nod of his head. "...Fine. I'll take the night to recover. But you'd better mean it, Hood." Tim can't do this on his own this time.

For a moment, the boy bowed up like he was going to argue and the wolf in him stretched out it's muscles and bared it's fangs in anticipation of a fight. He was homicidal, not suicidal --mostly-- and even his more basic instincts knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that tangling with a mage that smelled of as much power as Tim did was a death wish. But the fight didn't come and Jason breathed out a small huff of relief as he sent the younger man back to his Nest to get the promised sleep and caloric intake.

He ran through the rest of his patrol on double time, letting his people know that he was going to be gone for the next night. Maybe two, if things went South. Honestly, it could be longer, but he wasn't going to plant that idea until he absolutely had to. Amanda cornered him and asked questions and he rolled his eyes and evaded and, eventually, she'd cussed him out in Spanish and told him to just keep his phone on him.

He made a mental note to build her a very nice gun.

The next evening, the sun was barely below the tops of Gotham's buildings before Tim's phone buzzed with a message.

'I'm waiting on the street. Hurry up, your security guards are looking like they want to piss on my tires.'

On the street, Jason stood out in his ripped jeans and leather jacket, his ass resting on the edge of the '64 Chrysler 300 that he'd taken the time to meticulously restore back to it's original beauty. A cigarette balanced precariously between his lips as he gave Tim a jaunty little salute.

Self-neglect came naturally to Tim, not because he despised himself (there were periods of self-loathing, but not that severe) but simply because taking care of himself wasted time and energy that could be better spent elsewhere. A nasty little habit that had always been a part of him, fed into by the man that turned him into Robin. Tim was the Robin that had the most in common with Bruce when it came to their personalities. But he wasn't quite proud of that the way he was when he was younger.

They'd made a deal, so he followed through with his part of it. Scrubbed the night's filth off of himself, ate actual, healthy meals (with a little help from Alfred), got a full eight hours of sleep. Even Tim had to admit the whole thing made him feel like an entirely different person. He'd gotten so in the habit of just doing the bare minimum care to get by that he'd honestly forgotten how it felt.

Tim got the text, rolled his eyes, and didn't bother responding. It took him only a minute or two to pull on some clothes and sneakers. The grimoire he'd been give was already secured in a messenger bag that he threw over his shoulder and he was out the door. It was a nice car, he had to admit, even those his tastes tended towards the newer, flashier models. Jason had done a good job with it. He looked good, too, like a wet dream straight out of the fifties in that jacket of his.

"Be a pity to waste the piss." The younger of the two said instead of complimenting it, but there's a hint of a smirk that gave away that he was full of it. He wasn't sure if Jason would even want a compliment from him. Tim easily slid into the passenger seat and buckled his belt.

Jason's gaze flicked to Tim as soon as the younger man appeared, expression neutral as he watched him approach. He watched Tim the way a well fed wolf watched a deer: Assessing the meal, but too sated to bother with the hunt. It was a look that would leave most uneasy, the stare of a predator who'd chosen on a whim not to eat you today. But Tim was not most people and Jason felt no real need to hide himself from the younger man.

Then he blinked and the look was gone, replaced instead with a scoff and a flick of ash in Tim's direction.

"Hey! Insult me all you want, but you leave my baby alone. She ain't done nothing to you, show some respect." There was no edge to the words, however, and Jason pushed off the hood to lazily make his way back over to the driver's side. Along the way he flicked his butt, then slid into the driver's side of the wide bench style seat with practiced ease.

For as meticulous as Jason had been to preserve the exterior as original as possible, the inside was another beast all together. He'd upgraded the whole system, adding a modern sleekness to the powerhouse of a muscle car. With the press of a button, the car rumbled to life and darkened touch screen in the center dash came to life as Jason reached out to touch it. Most of the options on the screen were fairly standard: Music, phone calls, temperature controls....but at the top corners were slide overs labeled 'Defense' on the left and 'Other' on the right. A light touch of a calloused finger and music thrummed through the space, then Jason was easing the car out into traffic.

"You tell anyone about where I'm about to take you and you'll wish you'd gone to Ra's. Got it?"

Tim had never been afraid of Jason Todd. Not from the first moment they'd met in uniform, openly defiant and headstrong even when having his own face bashed in. Not after having his throat slit, getting stitches and then going right back to work. Not even after being stabbed in the chest with a batarang and left to bleed out, because he could still remember the way Jason tried desperately to recruit him while doing it. Being looked at like he was prey was simply underestimating him. And Jason knew it.

So he hardly blinked at the threat, entirely unimpressed by it. There was little Jason would be capable of that would ever make Tim wish he'd gone to Ra's. Perhaps Jason wasn't entirely aware of what had gone down between the two of them, seeing as he had been otherwise occupied. Hadn't he been closer to Talia than Ra's? It was true, Tim had managed to outsmart the man and cripple his organization temporarily, but that would only make Ra's even more determined to capture him in a way he could never escape from. And do some really evil, sick, twisted shit to him in the meantime. Tim did try not to get himself into those kinds of situations if he could help it. Being made to think on it again didn't put him in the best of moods.

"I'm not planning on telling anyone." The younger of the two finally murmured, glancing out the window as his arms crossed over his chest. "But you should probably work on your threats." When his gaze turned back to Jason, there was more ice in it than usual. There were practically neon signs pointing towards Ra's being a sore spot with Tim, and it was unwise for Jason to have valuable information he could use against him. So he forced himself to look away again, and instead focused on memorizing their path.

Just as Tim didn't know Jason well enough to know that the Lycan watched the whole world through the eyes of a predator, Jason didn't know Tim well enough to know that the tightness of that expression meant he was treading on thin ice. He hadn't exactly followed Tim's adventure with the League, after all. He'd put in enough effort to keep Talia occupied while Tim was with her father, but otherwise he'd been perfectly satisfied to get his news from the few allies he still had within those walls.

He'd learn, as would Tim. But first, they had to survive long enough to be able to learn.

The old muscle car wove through the late morning traffic, Jason's skillful hand on the wheel and gear shift guiding the bulky vehicle with ease. He'd learned to drive on the Batmobile, after all. And not the new, sleeker version that Bruce whipped around in these days, but the old tank of a car. He'd had to sit on phonebooks to be able to see, but that hadn't stopped him from loving every minute of it. Even now, he drove with a relaxed smile on his face, thumping out the beat of the song they were listening to against the knob of the gearshift under his hand.

"You ate breakfast, right? Not just dinner last night? 'Cause the energy's gotta come from somewhere and I'm guessing you're fresh outta chickens to sacrifice. You pass out, I reserve the right to point and laugh." He flashed Tim a cocky grin before flicking his gaze back to the road so he could make a turn that would take them deeper into his own territory. "'S one of the reasons why magic is so dangerous. It'll burn out the caster just as fast as it'll burn out an enemy if you're not careful. So, you know....be careful."

Concern? Surely not.

Another few blocks and Jason turned down an alleyway. It was a dead end, a huge brick wall closing off the exit....and yet, Jason drove towards it like it wasn't there, murmuring along with the song as they got closer. He didn't even flinch as the nose of his clearly well taken care of car hit the grey bri-

wait. There was no crunch, no sudden stop. The nose just slid into the brick like it wasn't even there. As did the engine. And then the windshield. And then there was a sensation like dipping one's hand into a cool pool of water except sideways and all of them....and then they were on the other side in a parking lot of an old office building that hadn't been there ten seconds before.

"Someone owed me a favor. Ra's shouldn't be able to even know you're here, let alone throwing magic around. I use this place when I can't make it to the forest."

"I ate breakfast." Tim made a slight face at being questioned further on it. Yes, he knew he had a reputation of not taking care of himself. A well earned one. But he had heeded the advice he was given, and Alfred had been willing to help him out. God bless that man. Jason continued and the younger quietly contemplated his words. It made sense, really--magic needed a fuel, and if that fuel was calories, Tim was going to have to consume more so he didn't end up flat on his face. "I appreciate your concern, though." An absolute call out, and the sharpness returned to his smirk.

Anyone would have tensed up when Jason started driving into a fucking wall. Tim didn't exactly freak out, but he gripped tight at the handle above the car door and shot the werewolf a look like he was a psychopath. Logically, Jason wouldn't want to destroy a car he clearly worked hard on just to kill Tim. And the impact would have been too slow to do more than cripple him.

His breath stuttered when the wall seemed to simply absorb the nose of the car. Not quite an illusion, but clearly magic. Had he known what was going to happen, he'd have spent more time both in awe and trying to figure out how it worked. As it was, he was too pissy for any of that. Tim willed himself to relax and his eyes turned dark when he stared over at Jason. "You could have warned me, you know!" His tone was snappy, clearly rattled by the game the older boy was playing. Somehow Jason always ended up with the upper hand, no matter how good Tim thought he was doing. It was infuriating.

Another breath, and it sank in that this was clearly a very special place. A safehouse unlike any of the ones Jason had set up throughout the city. He was willing to share it with Tim if it meant keeping Ra's away. So maybe he'd reacted a little too harshly. He ran a hand through his soft, dark hair and shook his head.

"...Thank you. I won't tell anyone about this place." Not just because Jason was trusting him, but because any little leak could get back to Ra's, and Tim would do whatever it took to avoid that.

Tim's call out on his concern was ignored, purely because Jason was enjoying the sweet, sweet not-quite-panic that was coming from his passenger seat. If he'd been anyone else, he would have out right chuckled at how obviously surprised the younger man was. Hell, if it had been just a few weeks before, he probably still would have laughed. Watching Tim figure him out and then still patrol with him had been an olive branch, it would seem.

Said olive branch did absolutely nothing to hide the wide, easy grin that sat slightly crooked on his lips.

"I could've, but then you wouldn't have pissed yourself and where's the fun in that?" He gave Tim a lazy, playful wink before he pulled the car into a spot and cut the engine. It was a blatant tease, but not as cruel as it would have been in the beginning. It might even brush along the border of 'good natured', if someone were to take into account the fact that Jason had a sense of humor that had been formed by the harsh neighborhood around them.

Once out of the car, Jason shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it in the backseat in favor of letting what little sunshine Gotham offered soak into his skin. It wasn't a whole lot and it certainly wasn't anything approaching 'clean', but it was still something and it felt good against the part of him that didn't particularly enjoy being cooped up in a major city. He wanted to stretch his legs and run, but communication was hard with someone who didn't speak wolf. Instead, he let his human shaped body have a stretch of it's own before he shook out his limbs and leaned against the hood of his car.

"So. You read it, you learned it, now you wanna practice it. Cool. I got you here and I'm here to make sure you don't run out of gas, but the 'how to' and 'what doing' are all on you, baby bird.

The building is real if you wanna go inside, but I do have some work out equipment set up. This whole place actually exists, it's just shielded really fucking hard. That said, you blow up the water main and someone is gunna notice that a whole city block is walled off to the naked eye, so keep that in mind."

"Bastard." There was no heat to his words, but he did look a little miffed. He hadn't ever been a fan of being caught off guard, even with pleasant surprises. Tim found comfort when he was able to predict a possible outcome, but everything about Jason was so terribly unpredictable. Maybe that was why he was so interesting. Either way, Tim wasn't planning on holding a grudge.

The mageling's gaze was sharp as he stepped out of the car, carefully eyeing their surroundings. Jason was familiar with this place, but Tim was going to need a moment to actually ease his nerves. So this wasn't some sort of illusion or alternate universe, but instead a physical location hidden by a shield. Who was the someone that had owed Jason a favor, and just how powerful were they? Would they be okay with someone like Tim testing his powers there?

"I'm not going to blow up a water main." There was a confidence in his voice that Tim didn't quite feel, but he'd always been good at faking it. Even knowing that he could practice out in the open without being seen, it still felt like it would be safer to be inside. Just in case. This wasn't something Tim wanted to take any risks with. He gave Jason a little nod and then headed for the door, gripping the messenger bag slung over his shoulder tight with one hand. It felt like a lifeline. The jaws of life couldn't rip it from him in that moment.

Once inside, he found a table to set his grimoire on. Pale fingertips gently stroked the cover. Tim said nothing, simply flipped open to a page and carefully grasped an obsidian charm on a silver chain around his neck. Something new. His focus. Those pretty blue eyes of his slid shut, and he whispered words that he had carefully memorized, in a tongue that only magic users would really understand. A black circle formed around his feet and black smoke danced upwards as his eyebrows furrowed. It wasn't the most impressive showing, but he'd managed something on his first try--and that said something.

The 'who' and 'what' of this place were actually pretty simple, but it wasn't information that Jason was willing to part with just yet. Tim had proven to be...tolerable, but tolerable was a far cry from that level of trust. He'd get there, but he hadn't yet and Jason was a jaded creature.

He was still grinning at his little playful tease when he followed Tim inside. The place had been an office at one point or another, though the fax machines against the wall promised that it hadn't been active in quite a while. It was, like most places in the Bowery, run down from neglect and time, but there were more than a few places that looked like someone had gone in and patched up anything that was too broken. The skill of the patches told a story of someone learning what the hell they were doing over a period of time, but only if someone was really paying attention.

Tim found the old conference room with it's table and ratty old couch and Jason watched him through the foggy glass of the windows for a long moment before he turned towards where he'd emptied out all the cubicles and set up his work out equipment. Some of it would be easy enough to recognize, though the weights that everything was set to was beyond anything a human could do, but there were other things that had been set up, too. Thick docking ropes that had been braided together. An actual car was just chilling against the back wall. Something had chewed out it's tires.

He was just starting to stretch out his shoulders as a warm up when he felt the tingle of magic roll up along his spine. It was being touched by a warm, living thing and Jason gasped and spun around, eyes narrowing in confusion as he spotted Tim still on the other side of the window.

He'd never felt that before.

"What the actual fuck was that?"

Beneath the young man's eyelids, his eyes darkened until the were as black as a starless sky. The tips of his fingers darkened too, almost as though he had dipped them in ink, and that ink dripped upwards towards his elbows. A very dangerous sort of power was awakening, seeing the light of day for the first time. There would be no stopping it now. Tim's only hope would be to learn how to control it properly.

When Tim opened his eyes, a faint swirl of joy swooped through his stomach at what he saw. Magic. He was using it. Well, obviously, that was the whole point of this, but some part of him had been sure he wouldn't actually be capable. Baby steps, sure, but those baby steps might just lead him to something far more incredible. The smile that pulled onto his face was boyish and genuine.

And came right back off when he heard Jason speak from the other side of the glass. With his concentration broken, the magic flickered right back off and disappeared. His features returned to normal. He frowned over in the wolf's direction, trying to keep himself from being too peeved. It was, after all, only because of Jason that he had a safe place to practice this. Though when he'd said he'd wanted him there, Tim had meant actually in the room with him. So that was at least a little disappointing.

"Magic. Did you not think I was going to do any?" He groused. Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole. Tim wasn't aware that a new sort of connection was forming, one that he wouldn't have been able to prevent if he had known about it. He just shook his head at Jason and turned away again. Went back to focusing so that he could form that same black smoke, let it dance around him like flames suspended in the air.

The physical changes in Tim weren't a shock. He'd seen magic warp it's users, though not in such a casual way. It was...oddly beautiful, though he'd be lying if he tried to say that it wasn't at least marginally intimidating. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, League pride knocked violently into him, bone deep and heavy.

Watching those physical changes slide back like water to reveal Tim's usual features was just as captivating, and Jay gave up his stretches to make his way over to the door of the conference room, leaning his bulk against the doorframe as he watched. Though, the rebuke made him frown, eyes hardening a little.

"Don't get pissy with me. I've seen magic, I've been in the same room as magic users before. I've never felt that. I was curious, fucking sue me." Was that a tinge of hurt in his voice? Surely not. Big, bad Red Hood was too much of a hard ass to sulk. Right?

He went quiet as Tim turned to refocus on himself and after a moment he sucked in a sharp inhale as that ghost touch smoothed over his skin again. Everywhere the black smoke touched Tim, it 'touched' Jay as well and the wolf eyed his own hand to look for any sign of what might be happening. He wanted to ask questions, wanted to know if there was any clue in Janet's writings, but Tim had made it very clear that he shouldn't speak or otherwise break his concentration.

The sulking was noticed but went without comment. He had little interest in actually fighting with Jason, he simply felt the need to defend himself when the wolf had questioned what he was doing. If he had stepped on toes, Tim hadn't really noticed. He was fairly certain Jason couldn't give two shits what anyone thought of him, let alone Tim Drake.

There was a rush that came with doing magic, even as he felt it drain away at his energy. From what he'd learned, it wouldn't always take so much in return for doing so little, but he had a lot of training to do to get there. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to form shapes with the smoke. They started out as nothing more than amorphous blobs, but when he grit his teeth and focused everything he had on manipulating them, they started to take shape. One even looked vaguely humanoid, not crisp and clean but at least decipherable.

His eyes fluttered open again, and then went wide. As a prodigy, maybe he should have been able to do more from the jump, but Tim was still amazed by what he could do. That it was real. When his fingers reached out to touch the shape, it wasn't as loose as smoke, nor was it completely solid. "Weird." There was some level of resistance when he tried to push his hand through it. How strange.

It was several more moments before he dispersed the smoke. Only once he felt a little light-headed from how much energy it was taking out of him. He let out a slow breath and turned to see Jason there watching him. His eyes softened, just a little, and his head canted. "What are you looking at me like that for?" It wasn't said accusatorily, even if there were maybe better ways he could have asked.

Do more from the jump? Most people freshly started in the way of magic spent months reading before even thinking of trying what Timothy Drake had just tried. And most people had the added benefits of mentors and teachers and possibly even a whole network of peers to learn with or from. To read a grimoire in a week and then to condense conjured smoke into something with shape and form?

Constantine would be shitting himself.

While Tim lost himself in the magic running through his fingertips, Jason moved further into the room. He was careful to stay quiet and to give Tim his space, but he found a chair and settled into it, leaning a little against the conference table to get a better look at the smoke figures. And they were smoke, Jason could smell the acrid burn of it, recognizing both wood and coal...but there was something else as well. He closed his eyes and parted his lips to run the scent over the roof of his mouth as well and even in this shape, his senses picked up something...else. Something stronger. Almost metallic against the back of his tongue.

It brought a flash of something large and scaled to his mind's eye and his eyes snapped open as, once again, Tim's last name flickering through his thoughts. It was nothing, right? Surely just a coincidence and nothing more. Things like that didn't exist.

Of course, things like him weren't supposed to exist, either.

Tim caught him looking, the humanoid smoke figure no more than wisps in the air and Jason huffed a breath before schooling his features into something more neutral as he shrugged. "Nothing. You're good at that, that's all. Eat a protein bar or something. You smell a little crispy around the edges."

There was a genuine smile at the compliment, but his eyes rolled when Jason bossed him around. "You're so charming." The younger of the two said with a sigh, but he didn't actually look that annoyed. He was willing to chalk it up to the wolf making sure he didn't hurt himself or anyone else.

Tim too could smell that the air around them had changed. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, if anything. Perhaps it was normal with magic, at least the sort he was practicing, and the fact that he had so little exposure to it was why he'd even noticed. It might help him to go through the grimoire again. During his time with it he had studied every page, but maybe something had slipped through the cracks in the wee hours of the morning. Even geniuses could make mistakes.

He grabbed a protein bar from his bag and took a seat at the table Jason was already at. "I brought more if you want one." They were pricey ones that didn't taste like shit, a rarity when it came to having to fuel themselves in their line of work. Tim didn't mind sharing, he had no idea what the metabolism of a wolf would be like, or if Jason had food stored away somewhere in the place he'd brought him to. Then he was quiet again, remaining polite in his manners but downing the whole thing pretty quick. His body was begging for the calories.

"So what's it like to be a wolf?"

"Charming. Sure, we'll go with that." He rolled his eyes, but he was smirking as he looked back at the younger boy. It wasn't the harsh, toothy thing from the Tower, either. It wasn't something a little closer to his normal, slightly lopsided grin from before. When Tim offered him a protein bar, he accepted it with a muttered 'thanks' before peeling it open and taking a bite.

It wasn't horrible but, to Jason's advanced senses, it was a little artificial. Still, he nodded approvingly at it as he took another bite. "Not bad. What brand are these? Actual whey powder is a nice change up from the usual shit they put in these." He eyed the wrapper as he chewed...only to nearly choke on his half chewed bite at that unexpected question. He thumped his fist against his chest a couple of times to get the lump down past his wind pipe, gasping in a breath as soon as the way was cleared.

"Jesus, kid." He thumped a couple more times against his chest, clearing out the last of the unprepared bite before he left the rest of his bar on the table and slumped back in his seat. "Not 'what's it like to be a criminal' or 'Crime lord, huh'? Just gunna jump straight to the furry questions. Fuck me.."

But that smirk was back, as was the little spark of humor in pale blue eyes.

Tim had to try not to smirk when Jason choked on the protein bar because of his question. He was known for being blunt, so it shouldn't have been too surprising that he didn't beat around the bush. "I'm not a kid." The younger of the two told him, like he hadn't just barely become legal. It bothered him, the idea that Jason would see him that way. Tim didn't really want to examine why, but he knew for sure that he wanted his predecessor to see him as the competent, mature adult that he tried to be.

He at least had enough tact not to say that he didn't really care what it was like to do crime or being a crimelord, and that was why he hadn't asked those questions. Jason looked amused and Tim wanted to keep him in a good mood. "Being a wolf is a lot more interesting. You're the only one I've ever met. Can you really blame me?" The amusement was reflected in his own eyes. It was nice, getting to talk like this.

He set his elbow on the table, and his chin on his palm. "As a kid, you play pretend and act like animals all the time, but it's hard to imagine what it would be like to actually be one. "Do your senses change? I know dogs have a yellow-blue color spectrum, so I would imagine that wolves are the same. Or is it different because you're still human on the inside?" Tim didn't see a reason not to be his usual nerdy, curious self, since Jason seemed amused enough to tolerate it.

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