This chapter wasn't supposed to go here. I put it here anyway. Have a character I wasn't expecting to introduce yet.

xXx

The lamp had been on for a solid hour now, and the backlit figure visible in the cracked-open window had been in the room nearly the entire time. The powerful, sleek car had roared out of the cave half an hour ago, and the two figures in the kitchen hadn't moved for the past forty-five minutes. Now was as good a time as any.

Jason slid down the tree trunk, careful not to make any noise so as to avoid triggering one of many security measures utilized by the billionaire owner of the manor. He could have disabled them all, but he figured it would have been harder to cover the hacking of the entire system than a few key parts.

He scaled the drainpipe (reinforced for that very purpose, believe it or not) and latched onto the windowsill, setting his jaw. This was it.

He slid open the window and sat up on the sill.

The lanky teen inside had his right arm and wing stretched toward the ceiling, leaning to the left as he murmured something under his breath-- counting or a mantra, Jason couldn't tell. His back was mottled a light shade of pink surrounding the giant wings protruding from it, and Jason winced at the sight of the backwards J between them. Each wing looked dark in the evening light, but the illumination from the lamp occasionally caught them and they gleamed a golden brown.

"Hey, kid," Jason greeted. "Whatcha doing?"

Tim whirled around, almost catching the edge of his desk with one of his wings as he turned. His eyes were wide with alarm, but he was quickly composing himself, analyzing the strange intruder. "Who are you?" he asked distrustfully.

Jason slipped down from the window and took a few steps toward the younger vigilante, stopping just out of wing-whacking distance. "Red Hood. You might have heard of me?"

The winged teen's eyes darted over him, reading him as all associates of Batman are trained to do. Jason wasn't sure of everything he picked up, but it was probably enough to both dissuade and arouse suspicion. "I have," Tim answered shortly, not giving anything away.

When in doubt, play it close to the chest, Jason supposed. "How much has Bruce told you?" he asked.

"About you? Why would he talk about you?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "Evidently not much. I know all about you and Bruce and Dick and the whole Bat-gig. You don't need to protect anyone's identity."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Then what do you want?"

Still suspicious. Bats really hasn't changed. "I wanted to talk to you before Bruce did."

The wings on his back shifted, and he placed a hand on the back of the chair at his desk, almost casually. Jason couldn't tell if it was to give him something to do with his hands or to help him keep his balance. "Talk to me about what?"

Jason placed his hands on the base of his helmet and released the mechanism holding it in place. There was a quiet hiss, and he lifted it off, revealing a maskless face framed by dark hair. His furry brown ears twitched, relieved to be free from the confines of the hood. "My name is Jason Todd."

Tim probably would have fallen over if he wasn't holding onto the chair. "Wait, you're-- as in--"

"Previous Robin, former Boy Wonder and partner of Batman until my unfortunate passing, yeah. That Jason." One of his ears involuntarily flicked back in amusement. "Next question."

"How are you not dead?" Tim managed to ask through his shock. He seemed to be taking the news relatively well. At least better than Bruce did, but Bruce was also in a far worse emotional state.

"Lazarus pit," Jason answered shortly. "Next."

Tim's eyes darted over him furiously, reassessing him in this new light. "Why are you here?"

Getting to the good stuff. "I'm here to tell you I exist before you find out from Bruce or Dick and end up thinking I'm trying to kill you or something."

"Are you trying to kill me?"

Jason waved a hand in the air, stepping to the side and looking around the room curiously. His replacement really needed to work on cleaning his room more often. "Nah. I thought about it for a bit, right when I found out about you and Bats, but by the time I got in town-- You just had enough on your plate, you know?" That was a can of worms he didn't want to open just yet.

His stance shifted noticeably-- not quite defensive, but not so relaxed-looking. "So you're just here to talk? About how you're not dead?"

"Pretty much." Jason stepped toward Tim, partially as a test, and Tim shifted farther back, which Jason had expected. He unfastened his holsters from his belt and offered the guns to him, holding the barrels pointed at himself. "Would this make you feel better?"

Tim hesitated. "You're not going to judo flip me or anything when I take them, right?"

Jason chuckled. "It's good to be cautious, but no, I'm not."

Tim took the guns, watching Jason as he did, and set them on the chair, well out of Jason's reach. "And now that you're partially disarmed, what have you accomplished?"

Jason shrugged. "I might have gained a little more trust so we can skip some of the usual 'suspicion' garbage," he said pointedly.

Tim leaned against his desk, crossing his arms with his wings folded, quivering slightly, against his back. "All right, fine. You're not trying to pick a fight. But clearly you're not on good terms with Bruce. Big risk you're taking in coming here."

"I mean, he isn't here." Jason tossed his helmet on the bed next to two odd contraptions; he quickly recognized them as the braces Bruce and co had designed for Tim. "I'm not that dumb."

"Dick and Alfred are still here."

"I'm fully aware. I figured you'd be more comfortable if someone was within yelling distance." He leaned against the bed. "And here we are, beating around the bush."

"You're the one who came here," Tim said exasperatedly.

There was a knock at the door.

xXx

Dick hesitantly knocked on the door to Tim's room. "Just a minute!" was the called reply. Good. A little extra time to gather his thoughts.

A few moments later, Tim opened the door. He took one look at Dick's face and knew something was up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Dick sighed. "This might be easier if I come in."

Tim studied his face for a moment. "Sure, come on in." He stepped aside to let Dick into his room. "What is it?"

Dick noted Tim's chair pushed against his desk with papers and various bits of computers scattered across it, the mostly-made bed with Tim's wing braces and on it, and the light draft coming in through the cracked window. With the small piles of clothes littering the floor, it wasn't the neatest he'd seen it, but at the same time, it was far from the worst. He stared out the window for a moment, then turned to look at his brother. "Your wings are doing a lot better," he commented. "You're holding them a lot higher than you were a week ago."

"I've been doing the exercises you taught me," Tim replied, not forgetting Dick's serious demeanor upon his arrival.

Dick nodded distractedly. "Good, good. You're still using the braces, though?"

Tim rolled his eyes impatiently, stifling a heavy sigh. "Yes, I take them off when I exercise, then put them back on when I'm doing other things."

"Mhm." It took several long moments for him to realize that Tim was still waiting for him to say what he had on his mind. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked.

Tim crossed his arms and shook his head. "I'm good. What is it?" he repeated.

Dick sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. This could end poorly. "Jason is alive," he said finally.

Tim blinked in surprise. It took him a moment to form a reply. "What?" he managed.

"We're pretty sure he has been for a while now, but now he has some kind of vendetta against Bruce."

"What do you mean, 'he has been for a while now'? He actually did die, but then...?"

"He was resurrected, we think by a Lazarus Pit. And he's furious at Bruce for one of several possible reasons."

Tim leaned against his desk, his wings resting lightly on the desktop. "That's... wow. You hear all these stories about resurrections and stuff, but you never think it'll happen to you."

Dick nodded. "At the moment, he's taking over the organized crime in Gotham. As much of a thorn in Bruce's side as he's becoming, he actually has started cleaning up the streets a bit. But he's been killing anyone who gets in his way."

"Mm, sounds like a real pain," Tim said, raising his voice slightly and turning his head a little to the side.

Dick ignored the remark. "Bruce wanted you to know before you found out a worse way. We don't know what he's capable of doing, and he could go after you to get at Bruce."

Tim nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can only imagine the ways I could have found out." He paused, then elaborated, "I mean, all kinds of drama could come from keeping something like that a secret."

Dick shrugged. "I'm just telling you to keep your guard up, is all."

"Is that it, then?" Tim asked. "I have a ton more stretches to do."

"Yeah, I'll go." Dick headed for the door, then paused. "If you have anything you're worried about, you can talk to me or Bruce."

Tim nodded impatiently. "Yes, or Alfred. I know." He made a shooing motion. "I'll be fine."

"Of course you will be." Dick gave him one last smile, then left, closing the door behind him.

Tim waited for a moment. When he was sure Dick was gone, he went to his closet and yanked the door open. His unwanted visitor was standing in the middle of the small room, his back turned, looking at the clothes as if they were an art exhibit.

"I'm really starting to question your fashion sense," Jason commented, tapping his knuckle on his chin. The furry ears topping his head twitched in amusement, betraying his attempt at a critical air.

"Get out of my closet," Tim told him.

"Like, the cashmere I get, but the tweed? Who wears tweed?" He came out, and Tim shut the door behind him.

Tim pulled out the chair from his desk and picked up Jason's holsters from the seat. "Take your guns--" He shoved them into his arms and crouched next to the bed. "--and your stupid helmet--" He found it behind the bedskirt and tossed it at him. "--and get out of my room."

Jason did his best to fasten his holsters back to his belt with one hand. "Oh, come on. I thought we were having a nice civil discussion!"

"Yes, but apparently Dick has other ideas, and evidently they know about you not being dead, which means they know how much you know and that you could easily come here." Tim crossed his arms, glaring pointedly at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're worried about me."

"No, I just don't want the epic battle between father and estranged ganglord son to go down in my bedroom!" Tim snapped.

Jason flattened his tan and black ears against his head and put on his helmet. "Okay, okay, I'm going." He opened the window and climbed outside.

Tim watched him, lifting an eyebrow as he continued clinging to the windowsill. "What are you doing?" he asked exasperatedly.

Jason glanced at the ground two stories below him. "This wasn't so far on the way up."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Please. You've jumped off the roof before."

He couldn't see it through the hood, but he was certain Jason's jaw dropped. "Bruce told you that story?"

"It was Dick. But yes, I know the story."

"I cannot believe him." His helmet remained unreadable.

"You're still not leaving," Tim said bluntly.

"Okay, okay. You got me. I'm trying to think of how to say this."

"Say what?"

"That's exactly the problem."

"We were trained by Batman. Accept that we weren't trained in the art of eloquence and just say it."

Jason huffed in annoyance. "Fine, fine, I'll just say it." He drew in a slow breath. "I know what it's like to be on the wrong side of things when the Joker snaps. I know what it's like to lose hope because of that freak, and I don't want that happening to you. You're still alive. And... you know how it goes."

Tim took a sudden interest in the carpet by his feet. "Yeah. What doesn't kill you."

"Attaboy." Jason nodded, satisfied. "I'll keep in touch. And trust me, when all this is over, that psycho won't be hurting anyone ever again." Not giving Tim any time to respond, he let go of the windowsill and disappeared from sight.

Tim rolled his eyes and shut the window. Of course Jason had to retain his flair for the dramatic instilled during his time as Batman's sidekick.

That psycho won't be hurting anyone ever again. That was fairly vague, but given who said it and what he'd already gained a reputation for, odds were that hell would have a new resident in the near future.

Tim walked over to his closet and opened the door. Was his sense of fashion that bad?

Bruce wouldn't take to Jason's plan very well. He'd say that they couldn't kill the Joker because then he would win.

Tim picked up the tweed vest Jason had probably seen on the floor. Maybe it wasn't the most trendy thing in his wardrobe, but it wasn't as bad as-- ew, he must have gotten that shirt from the eighties. It had the right amount of tacky neon.

The thing was, every moment that the clown was alive meant more and more people were losing in his displays of absolute lunacy. Maybe it wouldn't be a total loss if--

What the heck is that?

Where the vest had been was a small bag with a yellow sticky note on it. Tim knelt next to it and read the sticky note.

Replacement, it read.

Replacement. Wow. That wasn't degrading at all.

Thoroughly confused and wondering what Jason was getting at, he looked at the bag and let out a small huff of a laugh.

Sunflower seeds. Apparently zombies had a sense of humor.

xXx

Here's where the unedited bits get murky. This chapter ended nicely, so I'd recommend pretending it ended here if you want it to stay that way. I have a lot of bits and pieces from now on, and most of them aren't pretty (in the emotional sense or the completional sense). I only have like a bit of trauma and some arguments after this. Be warned. 

If I ever remember to post them <3