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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'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."

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