"I didn't exactly have a normal family, so I wouldn't know anything about this," Jason said.
"I don't think there are people in this business with normal families," Tim replied while keeping an eye on the street below. He used to, but then his mom was killed--still, at least he had his father. He was the only one of the entire Bat crew with a living birth parent. Bruce was an orphan, Dick was an orphan, Jason was an orphan, Cass was adopted or stolen or something, and even Oracle wasn't Jim Gordon's biological daughter.
Other heroes didn't have the same issues. Cassie and Cissie had moms. The Flash had both parents still living and a non-hero wife to boot, though Tim's understanding was that he wasn't so fond of his parents. Of course, Bart was from the future and had only his grandmother, while Kon didn't have any parents at all--unless you counted Superman, which Tim didn't.
Jason leaned against the ledge, winced, and shifted his cape to shield his bare legs from the brick. His costume and Tim's used to be nearly identical, but they'd both made changes over the years. Tim added tights under his shorts early on. Jason didn't. "Superman," Jason said.
"Superman was put in a ship as a baby and fired at Earth."
"After that, twerp."
Their colors stayed constant, though: Jason was green and red and black while Tim was green and red and yellow. "My point remains. Anyway--they haven't talked in two years except to coordinate maneuvers. This is normal for a normal family, though," Tim said. "You should see Thanksgiving at my step-grandparents' house. That whole side of the family thinks Dad is too old for Dana. It's a seven-way glare-off."
Jason crossed his arms and looked thoughtful behind the mask. "So--who's right? Is Batman a jerk or is Nightwing oversensitive?"
"Well..." Tim caught Jason's eye and they both grinned. "Nightwing is right," Tim said.
"Batman is right," Jason said.
They knocked fists and shot their grapples into the next building.
Babs crossed her arms and stared them both down. "If either of you break anything, I'm upholstering your skin into my wheelchair."
"I'm not going to break your computers," Dick said. He slouched angrily by the door.
Bruce made a small acknowledging sound from his shadow near the clock window.
Babs turned to the monitors and checked the police band. "Still clear," she said into the headset.
"Only drug deals so far," Tim said.
"We're watching," Jason said.
Batman leaned over her shoulder. "Stay together. I wouldn't put it past Two-Face to try to separate you if he spots you."
"Got it, B," Jason said.
Babs turned off the mike and waved her hands at Bruce. "Shoo! You agreed to this!"
Bruce frowned and retreated. Dick didn't budge.
Babs looked from one to the other. "All right. This will be a moderated debate. Speakers will have three minutes to make their point, followed by one minute of rebuttal, then open discussion. Those who speak out of turn will answer to my taser." She picked up her taser from the desktop and buzzed it threateningly. Dick straightened up, looking astonished. "And take your masks off, both of you."
Dick and Bruce glanced at each other. In any other room, that would be a metaphorical request, but Bruce reluctantly shoved his cowl back and Dick untied his hood and ran a hand through his flattened hair.
Had Dick changed his costume again? He had--there used to be barbs on the blue stripes on his chest. She missed his brighter, bluer pre-Robin outfit, with the little domino mask and his long, floppy hair...
Whoa. Tangent. And Bruce and Dick were still staring at each other angrily. "Okay. Dick. Tell Bruce why he's a jerk. Afterward, we'll hear from Bruce on the subject of Dick's drama."
"That's not--" Dick objected.
"Clock is ticking," Babs said.
Dick sighed. "Okay. Fine. Bruce? I don't appreciate you trying to take my name away."
"I didn't do anything of the sort."
"You named Jason Robin. I'm Robin. It was my mother's name for me, Bruce!"
"It still is." Bruce was staring into the middle distance, brooding. Par for the course, pretty much. Babs rolled her eyes and monitored the boys.
"What?" Tim asked.
Jason jerked his head up. He looked older than Tim, more than the three years that separated them, more like Dick than like Tim until he gave his youth away with some nervous gesture. "What do you mean, what?"
"What's bothering you?" Tim knew him pretty well.
Jason shrugged, defiantly, and then gave in. Two years ago, Tim would have had to work at it, but now? Not so much. "I wish I'd gotten to know my mom."
"You mean you wish you could have saved her life."
"If I'd been there--if that jerk at Customs hadn't wanted to show the rich Americans who was boss--" Jason clenched his fists and bared his teeth at the street below them.
"Then the Joker would still have killed her, and maybe you too."
"I would have saved her. I know it was her. I--" Jason took a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth.
Tim swung his grapple in his hand, thinking about secrets and parents and how rarely they went well together. "Isn't it better not to know?"
"No." Jason shook his head and looked back up at Tim. "It's not."
"Even though it's the Joker?"
Jason's mouth twisted and he glared over the city, vibrating with tension, for a moment. Then he reached over and grabbed Tim's nose between his index finger and forefinger. "Ow!" Tim shouted nasally.
Jason grinned. "Got your nose."
Scratch everything Tim had ever thought about Jason acting his freaking age. Tim countered with a sharp blow to Jason's wrist, which would have worked if Jason didn't work out with Batman and have the cast-iron arms to show for it. Tim spun and Jason spun right with him. "I am so pantsing you," Tim vowed.
"I don't wear pants, Pinocchio."
Tim curled his fingers and was about to go for the mask like Dick taught him when Oracle cut in. "Boys! Bank robbery at Fourteenth and Houston."
Jason let go and they both readied their grapples. "Acknowledged," Tim said. "How are the others?"
"Still alive," Oracle said.
"YEEEEEEEEE HAWWWWWWWWWWWW," Jason howled, swinging out over the city.
Tim shook his head and followed.
"I was not taking your identity," Bruce growled.
Dick pounded his fist against the wall. "My name! My nickname! My suit, designed from the Flying Graysons suit!"
"And I changed Jason's code name when you found a Robin of your own! What more do you want, Dick?"
"An apology."
"Don't be ridiculous." Bruce turned toward the monitors, turning his back on Dick entirely. Dick paced angrily behind him.
Babs checked on the boys. Their trackers showed that they had veered away from the site of the robbery; she guessed they were chasing the robbers. "Robin and Redbird work well together," she commented to Bruce.
"I know."
"I wish I knew where they get it from."
"I think that would be me," Dick snarked at the wall. Bruce's grip tightened on the back of Babs's chair.
Jason was keeping pace with the getaway van while Tim cut ahead to lay a little trap. "On course?" Tim asked over the headphone.
"Yeah. East on Fourteenth, going too fast to turn." Jason sounded a little breathless. It was possible to keep up with a car on foot and grapple line, but it was hard work.
"Good. Bat-Trap is go." Tim ran the asphalt-colored spike strip across the road and climbed up his grapple to the first floor overhang.
"Almost there," Jason panted.
"I see you." Jason swung around the side of the high-rise as the getaway van roared into view. Tim crouched down, the van drove across the strip with an explosion of tires, and Jason landed on the sidewalk running. Tim shimmied down the line and joined him.
The van spun a revolution and a half before it was stopped by a handy mailbox. Jason leaned in the driver's-side window, grinning. "Shaken. Not stirred."
"Any injuries?" Tim asked. The driver groaned as the airbag deflated.
Jason slid open the side door of the van and hopped inside. "Hey! Any of you losers choke on the cash you just stole? No? Good!"
Tim peeked his head in after Jason; it looked like one guy, who had not been wearing his seatbelt, had a broken arm, but the cops were right behind them and that was far from life-threatening. "Eat shit, punk," the other bank robber said.
Jason punched him in the face and he slumped over with a grunt. "Not on my diet plan."
"Let's go," Tim said.
Tim retrieved his grapple and spike strip and they flew away as the police arrived. "I could go for a burger, though," Jason said.
"Four robbers and three hundred grand and the night is still young," Babs said.
Bruce nodded. "I like the way Robin operates."
"I can not believe you. Jason's a little too old now, is that it?" Dick snarled. "You can't have Tim! He's my fucking partner!"
Bruce snapped around to Dick. "Dick! I don't understand what--"
"You know, there's a lot I don't get about you," Dick cut in, "but the biggest is why you invested all that time and all that training just to throw me out and start over again from the beginning."
"That wasn't what I did," Bruce said.
Dick stood in the doorway with his hands pressed to either side of the frame, the muscles in his arms quivering with emotion. "Was I really that much of a failure? You had to go out trolling for orphans and try Robin 2.0?"
Bruce ran his hand through his hair slowly. "Dick," he said--and his entire tone of voice was so different that Babs had to take off her headset to make sure she was hearing him correctly--"You were never a failure."
Dick's head was low between his straining shoulders. "Sure. I was such a huge success that you fired me because I got shot."
"No, you're completely wrong." And now Bruce sounded like himself again. Babs put the headset back on to keep track of the boys.
Dick's mouth twisted. "Sure. Tell me how I'm wrong."
"When you were shot, it impressed upon me how much time had passed since you first put that uniform on, and how little time you might have remaining to you. This is a dangerous profession--more dangerous all the time--and we've fallen in battle. And since you are my protege and I do love you, I wanted to see what you could do," Bruce said. "And so I pushed you out of the nest. And you flew."
Dick's eyes widened. "But--"
"I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished," Bruce said. "Of you, as a man and a hero."
"Bruce. Jesus," Dick said. "Why didn't you say that three years ago?"
"I..." Bruce made a small gesture with his hands. "I thought you knew."
Dick stepped forward, out of the doorway. "I didn't. I thought--I mean."
"Obviously I should listen to Alfred more," Bruce said, and then Dick surged across the room and hugged him fiercely.
Babs rested her head in her hands and grinned.
The girl at the Pizza Hut walk-up window didn't know quite what to make of them. "Are you... brothers?" she ventured.
"More like cousins," Jason said, paying her for the two pepperoni slices and large Zestis.
"....Okay." She handed Jason back his change and he and Tim had dinner a few roofs over.
"It's my birthday soon," Jason said. "Hey, Oracle, it's my birthday soon."
"I'm not telling you what B got for you," Oracle said over their headsets.
"B got me a Porsche. He thinks I haven't found out where I'm hiding it, so play it cool. No, I'm thinking, since I'm turning eighteen, I should change my name like Nightwing. I mean," Jason said, slurping at his Zesti, "I'm gonna be a man."
"What's not manly about 'Redbird'?" Tim asked.
Jason shrugged. "How about 'Redhawk'?"
"Pretentious," Oracle said.
"Kind of sounds like you work for Hawkman," Tim said.
"There's a history for this--I just have to work it. Robin changed his name to Nightwing. Speedy changed his name to Arsenal," Jason said.
"Kid Flash became Flash and then Impulse became Kid Flash," Tim said.
"Wasn't there--Aqualad or something? You're in the Titans, you know this stuff." Jason stole Tim's crust and gnawed on it thoughtfully.
"Aqualad became Tempest. Why didn't you ever join the Titans? Or Young Justice, back when we were recruiting? The guys like you," Tim said.
Jason shrugged. "Batman wanted me in Gotham."
"I think you should keep your name," Oracle said. "It's the name of the role as much as it's the name of you. Change it when what you do changes."
And Oracle would know something about this, Tim thought. "How are N and B?" he asked.
"Hugging."
Tim paused. "Uh--what?"
"They're hugging. Possibly crying. I think they've resolved their differences."
Jason sat up. "Hey, does that mean I get to show Rob the Cave?"
"Probably."
"Kick ass."
"Boys?" Oracle said, her voice sharpened. "Two-Face has been spotted in City Hall. B and N are on the way."
"So are we." Jason was on his feet with his grapple before Oracle had finished talking, and Tim was right behind him.
"Giant coin, huh?" Oracle asked.
"It's retro," Jason said. "I can dig it. Crazy, cat, crazy."
In her other ear, Batman was talking to Two-Face. "It's never too late to start fresh, Harvey." Oracle rolled her eyes; how long had it taken her to pound that into Bruce's head?
And Dick's line blended with Jason's: "O... thanks."
"Sure, baby," she said.
Jason hummed into over the line: "Oracle and Nightwing, sitting in a tree, K-I-ow! You're going down, Boy Wonder!" Then there was the unmistakable sound of fighting boys.
Some days she questioned her profession.
But so far, the answer was still "yes."
Babs took off the headset and rolled into the kitchen to make some nice herbal tea.
THE END.
All comments are welcome.
bas@yosa.com
www.ravenswing.com/~bas/slash