mytardisiscoolerthanyours

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Ch. 5

Chapter 6: Big Brother

Being dead was lonely. It was isolating and cold and so lonely. Jason would watch each day as the people he loved— his family— walked around him as though he wasn't there. Navigating their lives without him in it. He often tried to get their attention. Sometimes calling out, knocking things over, touching their shoulder, but each time, nothing happened. It made everything feel worse.

The only solace that Jason could find in his new life was that he wasn't completely alone. He had Tim.

He had come to rely heavily on Tim's company since he had returned. Tim offered him conversation, distraction, and entertainment. He helped to keep the darkness and waking nightmares away from Jason. Even still, he found himself staring off at times— when Tim fell asleep, or if he was at school, Jason would blink and be somewhere else.

Sometimes he was back in his body. He found himself swinging through the streets of Gotham, the warm wind running through his hair as he glided. He could feel the drop in his stomach with each fall, and the tug on his arm as his grapple connected with the next building. He felt free. Happy. Alive. He could look to the side and see his father right there with him, ready to catch him if he fell.

Once he awoke in a dark space. Eerily quiet and confined. Jason tried to move, but the darkness was all-encompassing. He could feel silk sheets below him and the ceiling right above. He could barely move. Distant shouts and scraping filled his ears, but he always came back before he could figure out what they were.

Other times, he would be in the warehouse. Bruised. Beaten. Hurting. He would look up to see his mother across from him, frightened and shaking. He could feel the pain in his chest, not from his injuries, but the betrayal that rooted itself so deeply when he discovered her truth. When he heard Joker laugh and thank her for telling him where Robin was— who Robin was. The person who brought him into the world, also responsible for taking him out of it.

He could feel the cold mountain air creeping along his skin. The torn suit did little to keep him warm. Aches and pains filled his body as he dragged himself to the exit, desperate to get out. His hands grew cold as he pressed them against the door, realizing it was locked from the outside. He clawed and begged, hoping his father would be there. But the timer ran out, and suddenly Jason is back where he was. The vision gone, but the pain remaining.

He decided that he would help Tim, rather than lament in his pain. He was already dead; there wasn't much more he could do to help himself. But Tim was alive. He was alive and breathing, but he was more isolated than Jason. Often choosing to sit in his empty house alone rather than stay at the manor. He had told Jason once that he wasn't welcome there, that Bruce had never offered to let him stay.

Jason knew otherwise. He could see it on his father's face the other night as he wrapped Tim in a blanket— He cared deeply for the boy. He had seen the same look on his face when he watched Dick train or goof off on a mission, sometimes Jason even caught Bruce giving him that look. Love and admiration, and worry, all mixed together. Jason just had to find a way to convince both of them to talk, see what the other was not.

He needed help. What he wanted to do couldn't be done alone; he needed his big brother.

—

"Why am I meeting Dick in the cave again?" Tim asked. He was zipping up his jacket before making the trek over to the manor. Jason had had him text Dick asking to meet in the cave, but didn't give a reason. Thankfully, Tim trusted him enough not to ask too many questions—until now.

"I told you, it's for training." Jason sighed, leaning against the door in front of him. "As annoying as he is, Dick knows a lot about hand to hand combat, and since you're out in the field more and more these days, I want you to be prepared."

Jason didn't mention that he was also hoping to break some of the tension between the two. He knew Dick was a sucker for a sob story and hoped this training session would help him see that Tim needed more support than Jason could provide in his current state. More than what Bruce was providing for him, too.

"You could just train me," Mumbled Tim. He brushed past Jason through the door. The sensation was still foreign and uncomfortable for the former Robin.

"Quit doing that," he said, shuddering at the feeling. "I can't train you when I can't even touch you, bird brain."

Tim chuckled and shook his head, holding the door open for Jason to follow him out of the house. They walked side by side, one real and one not, toward the warm glow of the manor across the lawn. Tim shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking down as he walked.

"Would you though?" Tim asked softly, "I mean- If- If you could, or if you were really here, would you help me train? I know I took the job from you, and I'm obviously not as good as I could be if you think I need to train with Dick- I just mean that… If you were alive, would you still want to hang out with me?" He stumbled through the question. It was obvious that he had thought it through a few times before asking it, but still, it came out in a jumble.

Jason smiled.

"Of course, I'd help you, babybird. What else are brothers for, right?" If he could, he would have knocked shoulders with the younger boy as he spoke. "You can't get rid of me that easily. Alive or not, we're friends, Tim." The younger boy smiled, repeating the words quietly back to himself. Brothers. Friends. They seemed foreign on Tim's tongue. Strange but good.

A knot formed in Jason's throat. He wished the younger boy would realize that he deserved all of those things. Family. Friends. He had been left alone for so long, determined to figure everything out on his own, that he had lost the opportunity to discover what truly mattered in this world. Things that Jason had taken for granted before they were taken from him. He hoped Dick would help him achieve that.

When they got to the cave, Dick was already waiting. He sat in his workout gear, a threadbare t-shirt and sweats, with his feet kicked up on the desk and his phone in his hands. Tim froze in the doorway, looking more unsure than Jason had ever seen him. Was this the same kid he saw backtalk Killer Croc last week?

"Say hi," Jason whispered, not that Dick could hear him anyway, but Tim remained frozen. He looked at the older boy as if he were infallible— a hero, untouchable.

"Would it help if I told you I once walked in on him in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal at 3 am in his Batman boxers? He wasn't even awake enough to remember to pour the milk into the bowl. Just ate it dry with a spoon." Jason chuckled. "Or the other time when we saw a spider in the back of the Batmobile, and he screamed for five minutes for Bruce to pull over during a car chase. He basically crawled into my lap to get away from it."

Tim's shoulders loosened, a small smile cracking his stoic demeanor.

"He's not scary. He's a goofball who wears a tight suit." He smirked. "Just ask him if he could help you with a few things. Remember, you should work on dexterity, aerobics, and hand-to-hand." He assured Tim, wishing he could put a hand on his shoulder in support.

"Just be yourself, Timbo, and he'll crack. I promise."

Tim nodded and made his way down the stairs. Jason hung back, not wanting to distract Tim with his presence. They were trying to get Dick on their side, not make him think the new Robin was crazy.

Jason watched from afar as Tim approached Dick, smiling unsurely. He could see from here that Tim was stumbling through his words, as he often did when he was nervous. The young Robin was wringing his hands together as he mentioned the different types of training he could use help with, not letting Dick get a word in otherwise.

Jason chuckled to himself at Tim's antics. He knew from experience that you can't help but want to help Tim; he has a certain quality that just screams, lost puppy.

He saw the exact moment that it clicked for Dick. He could see the change in Dicks features as he realized that Tim had never been a threat, or a replacement, but instead a boy with misguided beliefs on how he could help their family— how he could help Gotham. Jason knew that Dick would investigate and come to the same conclusion that he had— Tim needed help. And if Jason knew his brother, he knew he would do just that.

From his spot above, he watched the two speak. He saw Dicks features and body soften from their rigid stance as he moved towards Tim and put a hand on his shoulder, just like Jason had wished he could. A soft smile took over his face as he nodded and moved them over to the training mats. Jason watched as they both settled into each other's presence, learning to move and talk, and train together quickly.

But at the same time, seeing his two brothers work together without him left an ache in his heart. He wanted to be the one to help Tim. He wanted to be on the mats, leading him through different exercises, joking and messing his hair up if he got it wrong. Tim was his brother first, and he had just handed him off to Dick. But what else could he do? Dick was here and Jason wasn't.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the presence that appeared next to him. He jumped at the sight of his father perched against the railing at the top of the staircase, hidden from the boys below in the shadows of the ceiling. Bruce watched quietly as Dick led Tim through a different defensive stance below them, smiling encouragingly as Tim tried it out.

Jason's eyes were glued to his father. This was the closest he had allowed himself to be to Bruce since he had returned. He could see his face so clearly. It had changed. There was a missing shine in his eyes, and more bags underneath them. He looked less happy and more tired, more stressed. Jason wished he could reach up and wipe the hard lines away from his face. Wished he could return him to the father he once knew.

He stood and watched Bruce as he stood and watched his brothers. It was a strange feeling to be so close to someone, yet so impossibly far away. Jason saw the small smile tug at Bruce's features as he looked on. He saw a small glimpse of the man he once knew flash across his face as Tim laughed at Dick below them. At least he could do this. He may not be able to come back or train Tim, but he was helping this way. He was bringing the family back together, thread by thread, piece by piece.

--

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[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Ch. 4

Chapter 5: Patrol

It had been days, and Jason still didn't know why he was back. He had been hoping that some bright light or shining beacon would tell him exactly what he needed to do, but nothing happened. Day in and day out, everything was the same, and he was still a ghost.

He decided to spend time with Tim while he waited, for what, though, he didn't know. Jason helped him with his English homework some nights. He explained Shakespeare and the importance of early American authors, even if they all were "annoying old white men," as Tim had put it. Other nights, Jason just talked to him. He wanted to know more about the boy— what he liked, his experiences, and why he decided to start stalking them on their patrols (Yes, Jason had found out about that). He prodded Tim about the empty house next door, asked when his parents would be back, but Tim always found something else to talk about. One day, they even tried to play video games. It was tricky, but Jason managed to work out how to touch one button on the controller at a time. It didn't matter, though. By the time he managed to turn his car left, Tim had already completed an entire lap around the track. Jason decided he didn't like Mario Kart.

Tim had grown on him. He spent his days chatting with him, teasing him, or messing around. It was how he had always imagined him and Dick would act, if he had ever warmed up to him. Like a brother.

Jason saw how Bruce acted around Tim, too. Cold, uninterested, distant. It broke his heart to see the man he once thought to be so warm turn to stone. It made Jason resentful, mad at the man that he knew his father could be. He watched night after night as Tim transformed— He didn't smile. Or laugh. He was all hard lines and gruff voice— an imitation of the man whose shadow he stood in. When Tim put on the suit, he stopped being himself. He was a perfect sidekick, providing support but staying out of the big man's way. He only pushed when he knew Bruce was going too far— a living reminder for Batman not to cross too many lines. To never break his one rule.

Robin was meant to be the light to Batman's darkness, a beacon of hope for those in Gotham, rather than the Dark Knight. Dick had explained it all to him when he took over. He reminded Jason that while he was there to help Bruce, Robin had other responsibilities as well. He was the mascot of Gotham's children, a reminder that there lives some good and hope in their dark city. Jason always took that job very seriously. He made sure to bring some humor and light to each interaction, even when he was alone with Batman.

Jason hated that Bruce created an environment where Tim believed he was only worth being there if he was putting in 110%. He never allowed himself off days, never let his emotions sway any of his decisions. He never acted like a child while he was Robin; he had pushed that part of him away while he worked. Jason wanted to know why.

He decided to follow them out on patrol one night. He had done it before— shadowing them— but never this close, never this intently. He had worried that his presence in the past would get Tim in trouble, distract him while he needed to be focused. But he needed to know, now. He needed to see how they worked together, wanted to understand where the shift in Batman's persona occurred, and why he was so tough on Tim.

He was thankful that he had woken up in his Robin suit, utility belt still intact. It allowed him to easily keep up with the duo while they grappled along through the rooftops of Gotham. He watched as Batman led, using strong, controlled moves, exuding confidence with each landing. Robin followed, emulating that same calm determination, faltering only minutely— only enough for a trained eye to see.

Jason saw how Batman looked at Tim each time he misstepped, each time he landed a little hard, or any time he made a mistake. He looked angry. He saw how Tim shrank each time, lowering his head and uttering an apology before Bruce could chastize him. It made Jason bristle.

This night was particularly difficult. It was different than the other times Jason had followed them on patrol. Tim had been staying up extra to work on a report he had for his science class. It was worth a decent chunk of his grade, so he sacrificed his sleep to work on it, rather than his time as Robin. Because of that, he was tired. He made simple mistakes— ones he would usually never make. Jason watched as Bruce paused their movement each time— over and over again. He never raised his voice, nor his hand, but his words were tight. Jason could sense that Bruce was holding himself back, not saying what he wanted to say.

It went on all night. Tim would trip, and Bruce would correct. Tim missed a grapple line, Bruce would teach him again. Tim stumbled, and Bruce made him retie his shoes. Over and over, Jason witnessed Bruce micromanage and poke at each of Tim's errors.

Jason wanted to scream at his father. Yell in his face and tell him to stop. To leave the poor kid alone, let him learn for himself. He watched as Batman spent the night analyzing Tim's moves, correcting him, pushing him— he never gave the boy a rest. It was a miracle they had any time left to fight crime.

At the end of the night, Jason watched as Tim sluggishly pulled himself out of the Batmobile and into the cave. The weight of his repeated training and crime-fighting pushed heavily on his shoulders as he made his way to the computer to write his report. Jason saw how Bruce watched the boy, a hard look on his face.

He had had enough. Jason stormed up to Bruce. He knew the older man couldn't hear him, but he had witnessed hours of unneeded training and little empathy from his father when he knew it was obvious that Tim was exhausted. He opened his mouth to yell, ready to lay into the older man and tell him exactly how he felt, but his voice caught in his throat. Because what he couldn't see when he was observing the two on patrol were the smaller details. From afar, it looked like Bruce was angry— annoyed at the boy— but now, up close, he could see no anger. He only saw worry.

Bruce was never good with emotions. As evidenced by his decision to dress in black leather and beat the crap out of criminals each night, Bruce didn't know how to process how he was feeling, or tell others either. When Jason first got to the manor, he learned how to read Bruce's moods pretty quickly. Learned that when he twitched his nose, he was holding back a smile, or tightened his jaw when he was annoyed. Jason had gotten so good at reading his father, always knowing his emotions, that he had forgotten not everyone could. He realized how much Bruce repressed his feelings, instead using them as fuel for his ever-growing anger at the filth of Gotham.

It shouldn't have surprised Jason. He should have realized that the emotion he used to see from Bruce was smaller now, more hidden, especially since he had experienced the death of one of his children— his death. When Jason looked up at Bruce's face now, he only saw worry and fear in his eyes.

It dawned on Jason that he had read into the situation completely wrong. Bruce was not mad at Tim, he didn't resent him or want to punish him for being Robin, he loved him. He loved and cared and worried for the young boy, but couldn't show it— didn't know how to or didn't want to. He loved his new Robin just as he loved the old, but he was afraid to get too close. To show his hand, in fear of losing it all again. Bruce looked like he was in pain as he watched the young boy slowly nod off in the too-large chair by the computer.

He watched as Bruce moved toward Tim, grabbing a thick blanket as he walked. Jason followed, looking intently at his father as he leaned down and carefully wrapped the fleece around the young boy, tucking in the sides to make sure it didn't fall away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into Tim's hair before sighing and standing back up. "I don't know how to explain it to you, but I hope you know that I'm only trying to keep you safe."

Bruce stepped back, careful to keep his footsteps light. He looked on as Tim snuggled into the blanket, a look of relief overtaking the boy's face for the first time all night. He looked peaceful.

Jason watched as his father observed the boy, seeming to relax now that he was safely tucked in. He watched as he pulled off his mask, changing from Batman to Bruce. Jason saw the worry and anxiety slip from his father's face as he began to pull armor off his body, heading toward the locker room. Before he turned the corner, Bruce looked over again, checking once more that Tim was safe.

Jason watched the final threads of tension fall away from his father as he observed his Robin safe once again in his nest.

--

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to follow along, I'm also posting on ao3 here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Ch. 3

Chapter 4: School

Jason was bored.

There wasn't much for him to do at the manor, especially since everyone left for the majority of the day. He felt more alone now than he ever had before.

Tim would leave for school in the mornings and return just before patrol at night— Jason wasn't sure what he did in the hours in between. Bruce went to work in the city for the day, often staying late and using his spare suit to meet Tim on patrol at night. Alfred always kept busy: cleaning, organizing, and shopping, so Jason barely saw him.

At first, Jason spent his time wandering the manor, rediscovering places he had somehow forgotten. He found his favorite window seat, a place he would curl up and read on rainy days. He could get lost in a book for hours, tucked away safely in a corner of the big house. He also went back to his (old?) room.

He had been putting it off. Waking up there was one thing, but revisiting it once he knew what happened was different. It was a shrine, one left by a grieving father.

He hadn't known Bruce for very long. Only a few years. He had adopted him after the tire incident on the Batmobile, and the rest was history. But even though Bruce was not a long-standing figure in his life, he still felt more like a father to him than anyone else — especially his biological father, that asshole.

The room was untouched. Just as it had been when he woke up, everything was exactly in its place. The shelves were dusted, the curtains were open, but the room felt stale. It was a pristine artifact from a time when he was present, there… alive. Like he remembered, everything was the same. His baseball trophies still sat on the dresser across from his bed, and the bookshelf next to his desk was still full of memories. Books and memories. Comic books were stacked neatly on his bedside table, a bookmark still marking where he had last left off in the top edition.

It felt like a frog had lodged itself into Jason's throat. It hurt to swallow, to breathe. He didn't like the stillness, the emptiness of the room. The all too familiar cold started to creep up his spine as he looked in from the doorway, not even able to take a step in. He didn't stay there long.

Instead, Jason decided to test the limits of his mobility and follow Tim to school.

-

"Jason, no. There is no way I'm going to get through the school day with you hovering over my shoulder the whole time," Tim sighed. He was finishing up his bacon and eggs in the kitchen, whispering to Jason under his breath as not to alert Alfred to their unexpected visitor.

"Ok, first of all, I don't hover. I'm not that type of ghost," Jason replied indignantly. "And second, you won't even know I'm there. I just want to see how far I can go. Plus, it's boring here all day."

Tim looked at Jason, his gaze assessing. The boy was smart, Jason had seen that in the few days he'd been back. He was sure that Tim could see the anguish he was trying to hard to hide. The loneliness and confusion that came with reawakening into an unfamiliar life. The painful lack of connection to people around him that remained so close, yet so far.

"Fine," he sighed. "But don't expect me to entertain you if you get bored. I have an English test today and I need to do well or I could fail the class."

Jason gave him a look. He wouldn't have expected Tim to be even close to failing anything. With the dedication he put into Robin and his rigid routines, Jason had thought he was a star student.

"Don't give me that look. I know, okay? I'm doing well in all my other classes, but English just doesn't make sense. What am I actually going to learn from old white men from the 1800s? Nothing!" He huffed, his voice rising. "It's bogus."

Before he could respond, Jason heard Alfred's voice chime in from across the room.

"Is everything quite alright, Master Timothy? You seem to be muttering a lot under your breath. I hope your breakfast is to your liking." Tim straightened, throwing Jason a quick glare before turning to Alfred apologetically.

"Everything is great, Alf, sorry. I have an English test today and I'm getting in my head about it. You know how I feel about this teacher… she's so full of herself." Tim grumbled, shoveling another spoonful of eggs into his mouth.

"Ah, yes. Mrs. McConnally. While I understand, I have to disagree with your assessment of the subject. I quite like literature, and the book you're reading is fascinating. I remember when I used to help Master Jason with his— Um, excuse me. I mean, I'm sure you'll do great, son." Alfred gave him a tight smile before turning and busying himself with the dishes once more.

Tim sighed, looking down at his plate. He pushed the bacon around, but didn't look to have much of an appetite anymore. Jason was staring at Alfred. It was the first time that anyone but Tim had said his name, or even recalled his existence. It was jarring.

"Happens more often than you think," whispered Tim, noticing the pained expression on Jason's face. "You're the favorite, even now when it hurts to talk about it. They can't help themselves sometimes. You should see Bruce when he does it accidentally during patrol — those nights end up being rough."

Jason didn't respond, instead turning his wide-eyed gaze to Tim. They talked about him? He had hoped, but it's been days and he hadn't seen or heard anything yet. He assumed they either forgot or it was too taboo to speak of the dead for anyone to dare.

"Common, we've got to go if we want to make the bus. It takes at least an hour and two transfers to make it before the bell." Tim hopped off the stool, thanking Alfred for the meal, and headed towards the door where he had left his backpack this morning.

Tim didn't often eat at the manor. It was a rare occurrence, only happening when Alfred insisted or on days after long patrols. Alfred's love language was food, and Jason could see clearly how much he cared for the boy. He seemed to be the only one in the family who did.

Jason followed Tim as he left through the double doors, still dazed from the conversation. He wasn't the favorite, that had always been Dick. He was the first. The first child, the first Robin, Bruce's first love. Jason could never compare, but he still knew that Bruce loved him, too.

He watched as Tim made his way down the long driveway. Had he said they were taking the bus?

"Wait up!" He yelled, running to catch up with the younger boy. His footsteps were silent against the gravel under his feet. It still felt unusual to Jason to walk through the world unheard, leaving no marks, making no sound. "Did you say we're taking the bus?"

"Yeah?" Tim questioned, slowing his pace slightly to match Jason. "How else would we get there? It's too far to walk."

"A car? Hasn't Alfred offered to drive you yet? He drove me every day to school, I think he would have fainted if I told him I was taking public transportation."

"No, he hasn't offered…" he replied, his tone shifting. "But that's because he doesn't know I take the bus. I told him my parents hired a driver for me."

Jason paused mid-stride. What?

"Why would you do that?" he asked, incredulously. "Do you like sitting on uncomfortable benches next to smelly people?"

"No," Tim replied flatly. "I didn't want Alfred to think he was obligated to drive me. I can take care of myself. I don't need him to go out of his way every morning and drive into the city. He has much more important things to be working on than that."

Tim's tone was defensive. Jason could tell the boy took a lot of pride in his self-sufficiency. He liked that he was able to function alone, be a "man." But Jason could also see the trauma in it. The need for control. The steel resolve that comes with being forced to find your own way and not rely on anyone else. He saw that look when he was still living on the streets. He probably had that look when Bruce took him in.

"Ok," he replied, his tone carefully calm. "You're right. You can find your own way to school. I'm not questioning you, alright, Bud? All I meant was that Alfred would be happy to do it. He never minded driving me, and I can see how much he cares about you, too."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed.

Jason winced. Ouch. He wanted to respond, wanted to tell Tim that he was wrong. His family cared, just in their own way. But before he could say anything, the bus rounded the corner in front of them.

"Shit," Tim cursed, "lets go before we miss it."

—

They made it to school just before the bell. One of the buses was running ahead, causing them to miss their transfer, instead having to walk the rest of the way from the bus depot to the school. Thankfully, no one bothered them on their walk past Park Row so early in the morning.

"You're a bad luck charm," Tim whispered as he slid into his seat. "I've never missed the bus once in my life, and the second you decide to tag along, I have to walk a mile to school."

"Well, you are technically being haunted, so I guess that's as bad of luck as it gets," Jason teased, ignoring the pang in his chest. Humor was the best medicine, or at least it felt like it. "Bet no one else here gets to hang out with someone as cool as me during school."

"Lucky me," Tim muttered flatly. He pulled out his textbooks, getting ready for the day. He spared a glance towards Jason, sitting on top of the desk of the girl next to him. She was oblivious as she looked right through his transparent form. The sight was unsettling. "Would you go somewhere else? You're being creepy."

The girl looked over at Tim questioningly. She raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he was talking to her. He shook his head quickly and turned to the front, the tips of his ears heating in embarrassment. Jason laughed loudly beside him.

"Oh man, today's going to be awesome," he smiled, still giggling slightly. He instead opted to sit at the empty desk on Tim's other side. Tim rolled his eyes.

"My test is first period, so if you could keep your comments to a minimum, me and my grade would greatly appreciate it." He huffed, pulling out his copy of Of Mice and Men to skim through before the bell rang.

"My grade and I," corrected Jason with a grin. "Did I mention that English was my best subject? I basically have that book memorized," he boasted, throwing his legs up onto the desk in front of him. If he could, he would tip the chair back onto two legs, like he used to when he was in school. "Sure, you don't want my help?"

"I'm not cheating," Tim rolled his eyes. "Especially not from a ghost. Now, if you could please shut up so I don't look like the weirdo who talks to himself, that would be great."

Jason laughed, but remained quiet after that. He watched as Mrs. McConnally began class, reminding everyone that this test was worth 20% of their grade. He could see the bead of sweat run down Tim's neck at the reminder. When the papers were passed out, he leaned closer to Tim to check the questions. They were all pretty basic, common sense. He figured Tim would do just fine.

That was until he checked again. Tim had answered almost every question incorrectly. Did he even read the book? Jason huffed, moving to stand next to Tim, rather than sit.

"Number one is A, not C. And number two is obviously D. How could you not know that his name was Lenny? He's the main character, Tim. Really." He pointed at each question as he criticized Tim's answers. At first, Tim went along and changed them based on Jason's suggestions, but by the second page, he had had enough.

"Stop," he whispered, gripping his pencil a little tighter.

"Ok, so for this one, I can see why you think it's B, but I think C makes more sense because-" Jason continued, ignoring Tim's warning.

"Jason, enough." Hissed Tim, voice rising.

"Timmy, common, these are softball questions, I could do this in my sleep. Skip to the back so I can read the essay question, then I can brainstorm while you finish the multiple choice." Jason quipped giddily. He loved reading and literature, and for the first time since he came back, he felt like he was being useful— helpful.

"Shut up!" Tim yelled, snapping his pencil in half. The already quiet room fell silent, all eyes turning to Tim. He was breathing hard, looking down at his paper. Jason's eyes widened, realizing what had happened, what he had done.

Tim was self-sufficient. Painfully so. He prided himself on doing things alone, by himself. And there Jason was, prattling on and on about how he got the answers wrong, telling him what to do. He had wanted to be helpful, needed to be, but at the same time, he had forgotten who he was talking to. Tim didn't need Jason to tell him what to do in order to be helpful; if anything, he needed the opposite.

And now the whole room was staring at the boy who had just yelled in the middle of a test. Fuck.

"Principal's office, Mr. Drake. Now." Called the teacher from the front of the room. Tim rose without a sound, collected his belongings, and exited the room.

The principal ended up sending Tim to the nurse, who ended up sending him home for the day. He managed to make up an excuse about sleep deprivation, and the principal even allowed him to take a makeup test the next day. It was his first offense, and he technically didn't do anything wrong, so it was more of a warning. Tim sighed heavily as he exited the office toward the front doors.

"I'm so sorry, Tim," Jason sighed, following a few steps behind the boy. "I honestly was just trying to help. I got so excited that I could actually do something for you… help you the way you're helping me, that I got ahead of myself. I know you wanted to do it alone, and I didn't respect that. I'm sorry."

Tim didn't speak as they exited the school. He remained facing forward, not acknowledging Jason at all as they walked further and further away from the building. He thought Tim was going to ignore him forever.

"I know what you were trying to do," Tim finally responded, after turning a corner down an empty street. "I'm not mad… well, I'm not mad at you. I shouldn't have reacted like that, so that's on me. But I understand that you're trying to help. I can't say I understand what it feels like to be in your situation, but I can at least imagine it."

Jason sighed. The pain in his chest rose once again. He realized that it never went away. It would rise and fall with his moods, an ever-present reminder of his pain. His grief.

"If you want to help, maybe we can study when we get back. I read the book, but honestly, it's just words on paper to me. You seem to understand it much more than I do. Maybe you can explain some of the key parts to me so I can do better tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can totally do that." Jason smiled, looking over at Tim. "But only if you want me to, I really don't want to force you or anything."

Tim nodded, returning Jason's smile. A different feeling swarmed in his chest, not the pain, but something cooler. It reminded him of what it felt like when he first became Robin, when he learned how he could help the people around him. He wasn't saving someone's life here, but he was making a difference. It was the first time since he had woken up in his bed so many nights ago that he actually felt like himself.

"I have one condition, though," added Tim. "You're never coming to school with me again."

"Yeah… yeah, that's probably fair," agreed Jason, still smiling.

--

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to follow along, I'm also posting on ao3 here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Ch. 2

Chapter 3: Drake Manor

Jason watched as Tim left the cave later that night. They had talked a while longer, getting to know each other, but eventually decided that Tim needed some rest after his patrol. Tim's body seemed to sag as he walked away from Jason, allowing the ever-present weight to return to his shoulders now that he was not being watched… or so he thought.

Jason followed the young boy as he went up the stairs and through the manor, keeping in mind to stay hidden as he observed. Those Robin skills were so deeply trained into him that even now, without his body, he could rely on his training to ensure he wasn't seen.

He had assumed the boy had a room somewhere in the large estate, but was surprised to see Tim head for the front door and down the driveway. Jason wasn't sure of the rules of his new body. In movies, he knew that ghosts had a range on their travel, usually tied to where they had died. But he wasn't in Ethiopia. Maybe these rules were different.

He decided to test out his boundaries. What was the worst thing that could happen? He would die? Been there and done that, somehow came back. The risk didn't seem too great.

He stepped out the door quietly, realizing that his new body allowed him to move without sound. He was a silent whisper against the wind, barely visible in the darkness of the night. His steps gained confidence as he strolled behind Tim, careful to stay far enough back that the boy didn't see him.

Tim took a turn towards the side yard of the manor, seeming to navigate a well-worn path in his mind through the brush and towards the side fence. Jason could see the large estate nestled into the trees on the other side. The lights were off. The whole building was shrouded in darkness. Jason wouldn't have even seen it if it weren't for the boy heading in its direction.

It looked abandoned. The driveway sat empty, and the ivy growing on the side of the brick seemed to have taken over. Tim didn't seem to notice as he walked to the front door and used a key from under the mat to unlock it. He looked quickly behind him, scanning the area, before entering and closing the door.

Jason swung his body behind a tree as the young Robin surveyed the yard, not wanting to be seen. He watched from his spot as Tim entered the house and disappeared. No lights turned on. It was as if he were teleported. There was no sign of life.

After a few moments, Jason dared to move. He traced the boy's steps up the walkway and to the door. But there was his problem. How would he get in? He couldn't touch anything without pain, let alone pick up a key and use it. How would he get inside?

He tested the doorknob, attempting to touch it with his hand. The familiar feeling started at his fingertips and traveled up his arm as his fingers connected. He pushed through, squeezing his fingers around it, trying to grip it, but his hand went right through.

A queasy feeling tightened in his gut. Going through an object felt inherently wrong, almost sickening. It went against what he believed to be natural. He quickly let go and stepped back. There goes plan A. How else could he get into the house?

He couldn't use the key, his hand would just go through it. The same would happen if he tried to climb through a window; he would never get it open. Anything he touched, he would phase right through…

The thought struck him, and he took a step closer to the door again. He laid his hand flat against the oak door. He could feel a slight pressure against his palm; he knew that he was technically touching the surface of the object, but it didn't seem as solid as it once had. His body was still used to the natural limits of his environment, but his environment had changed— no, he had changed.

He pushed his palm gently against the door and shuddered as his hand began to slip through the solid wood. He could feel his hand slide from one solid edge to the other. The pins and needles were there, but he was getting used to the feeling; it didn't seem as intense as before. He continued to push against the door, his arm slowly disappearing against it. His wrist, then his elbow, all the way to his shoulder. He watched as his body disappeared, unable to process how it was possible.

Instead of pondering, he stepped forward, pushing the rest of his body through. The sickening feeling returned tenfold. His body felt hot and cold at the same time, and his skin broke out in goosebumps. He never wanted to do that again.

As he recovered, he took in his surroundings. The dark foyer was dusty, and the artwork and various statues were covered in thick tarps. It reminded him of a museum under renovation, one that was long forgotten. The house seemed unlived in; A moseleum. The familiar cold feeling seemed to return.

He listened intently to see where Tim had gone, but heard nothing. The boy seemed to have vanished. He made his way up the steps, assuming Tim would make his way to his room, either to shower or sleep. Instead, he saw a faint light shining from a crack in one of the doors at the top of the staircase. It stood out against the emptiness of the rest of the home.

He peeked in, careful not to touch any of the wood. He had had enough practice going through things for one day. He took in the room. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. There were clothes strewn all across the floor, the bed unmade: a mess. Tim had hung dark black out curtains across the windows and the only light in the room was the bright screen of his desktop against the far wall.

There sat little Timothy Drake at his computer. Jason sidestepped into the room and cautiously walked toward the younger boy. He could see that he was taking notes in a small notebook on the side of his desk, copying lines from his screen onto the pages. Jason looked at the screen and forced back a laugh. Tim had searched, "Are ghosts real?" into the search bar. He had various other tabs open aswell, all with the same theme.

Jason would have made fun of him any other day. Of course, ghosts weren't real… except that he was. He was a ghost. And he thought he was real; he felt real.

He reached forward to do what he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he could touch anything anymore. He was an observer in this world, intent on watching, but never interacting. He pulled his hand back and cleared his throat instead.

Tim froze. The hand holding the pen tensed, while the other reached under his desk to grab something unseen. Tim turned slowly toward the noise, a mask of calm on his face. He relaxed at the sight of Jason's barely there form standing in the middle of his bedroom. He put back whatever he had grabbed from under his desk and spun his chair around to face the older boy.

"I didn't think you could leave the manor," Tim sighed, visibly trying to relax from the scare that Jason had given him.

"Thought so too." Jason shrugged. "I was planning on heading back up to my room, but I saw you leave the manor. You live here?" he questioned, once again taking a look around the room. It felt just as cold as the rest of the house. Did Tim feel it too?

"Yes," snorted Tim, "This is my house, of course I live here."

"Alone?" Jason questioned. The lights were still off in the rest of the house, and there was no sound besides them speaking softly. It seemed wrong to speak too loudly in the emptiness.

"No." Tim averted his eyes and quickly looked back at Jason. He was a poor liar for a Robin. "My parents are away on a trip. They travel a lot for work, but I can take care of the house myself."

"Sure you can, kid," Jason nodded. "Why doesn't Bruce let you stay at the manor while your folks are away? I can't imagine he feels good about leaving you in this big, empty house alone. He can't have turned into that big of a monster." Or at least, Jason hoped he hadn't.

"It's alright, I'm more comfortable here anyway… Besides, I never actually told him I was here alone." Tim shrugged. He looked away from Jason, not allowing him to see the lie in his eyes once again.

Jason's eyes widened and he quirked an eyebrow up. He had clocked Tim's first lie right away, he doubted it would get passed Bruce either. Unless… Bruce never asked. He had taken in the kid to be Robin, but knew nothing about him. It was obvious they didn't talk, it wouldn't be that far out of the realm of possibility that Bruce had just not inquired about Tim's house. It didn't seem right, but with this new Batman? Anything was possible.

"I— I'm not dealing with that right now." He sighed, shaking his head. There would be a time and a place where he talked to Bruce about the shit job he was doing with Tim, but first he needed to figure out his own situation. "What are you doing, anyway? Thought you would have just crashed after being out all night."

The tips of Tim's ears reddened as he looked back at the screen, realizing that he had been searching for ghosts in front of Jason. He minimized the tabs, but he knew it was too late.

"You asked for my help," the boy sighed. "I'm good at research. Its how I found out about Bruce and how I became Robin. I figured that some research might be good for this too."

Jason smiled. He couldn't even make fun of the kid. If he had done all that on his own, then he knew he had found the right person to help him with his situation. Jason walked over to where Tim was sitting and looked over his journal. He had tons of notes written already. He barely beat Jason into the house. How had he gotten so much done already?

"You work fast," he said, smiling, "Tell me what you got so far."

"Well," Tim smiled, perking up. "I really just started, but from what I've seen, it's a bit split. Some people are adamant that ghosts are real. There have been sightings in old houses everywhere, and some people even say they can talk to ghosts. There was this one show on TLC called the Long Island Medium, and she talked to people's family members that had passed away— anyway, on the other hand, there are people who don't believe. They say it's all fake. We," he pointed between himself and Jason, "obviously know where we stand on that subject."

Jason nodded, smiling at the boys' tangent, but let Tim continue.

"Ghosts go back to ancient times. There have always been people who believed they could see their deceased relatives. It's a part of so many cultures. In our case, though, I'm a bit stuck. We know you're real, and we know that you came back to a place that was meaningful for you. We also know, now, that you can travel from that place. But the thing we need to figure out is why you're back. Why did you return after two years? What changed, and how can we use it to bring you back?" Tim sighed, leaning back in his chair. He was talking so fast as he explained that it felt like whiplash to Jason when he stopped. He thought a moment, processing what Tim had said before he responded.

"You think I can come back? or- I mean, stay here? Like back in my real body?" He asked softly, barely looking at the younger boy as he spoke. He sounded much more vulnerable than he had liked, but couldn't stop the question from leaving his mouth.

"Don't you want to?" He asked, tilting his head as he looked toward Jason. "I assumed that's why you asked for my help to begin with."

"I do!" Assured Jason, "I just wasn't sure if it was possible."

"Well, that's the thing. I don't know. I haven't exactly heard about any stories of people coming back to life after years of being gone, but give me some time. I have some people I can reach out to, and I know a few sites I can check out."

Jason looked toward Tim again. He didn't want to get his hopes up, he had already been pushing them down ever since he realized what he was. Besides, Tim, while admittedly extremely smart, was still just a kid. Jason shouldn't rely on him for all of this, but he didn't have a choice.

"For now, I think you should explore. We don't know why you're back, so why don't you go out and try to find out? See if anything speaks to you or draws you in. My hypothesis is that we're going to figure all of this out through trial and error. Just… don't go towards any bright lights, ok?" Tim smiled, trying to hold back his laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," Jason rolled his eyes, suppressing his smile. "Make fun of the dead guy. Watch out there, little Robin, I could haunt you for the rest of your life if I wanted to."

Tim sobered a bit, but Jason could still see the smile in his eyes. He, surprisingly, wasn't mad at the kid. If anything, Tim was growing on him. He couldn't understand why there was such a big rift between him and his family. He seemed like he would fit right into their dysfunctional life.

Jason decided. He would search for why he was back, but he would also work to mend the void he left. He was going to bring everyone together, whether they liked it or not. Tim would not have to live alone in this sad cold house, Dick would be able to smile a little more, and Bruce… well he had a lot of work to do with Bruce. Good thing he wasn't short on time.

--

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to follow along, I'm also posting on ao3 here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Ch. 1

Chapter 2: Robin

Jason waited for the boy in the cave. He took the time to wander while they spoke, searching for any other changes made in his absence.

Everything looked the same, the only difference being the "shrine" in his honor. The costume, which had been his, was draped on a mannequin in the tall glass case he had seen earlier. The plaque underneath read, "Jason Todd, a good soldier."

The abrupt ache that filled his chest felt too real for his incorporeal form. The burning pain spread through his torso and out to each limb, filling his being with a longing so strong it hurt. The emotion burned bright and lingered, an awful contrast to the cold he had grown so used to.

He moved away quickly. The sight of his memorial was too jarring for the moment. He needed to figure out what was happening. Instead, he turned toward the desk in the center of the room.

Jason had spent hours down here during his Robin days. The long nights often left him bored— a dangerous thing for a twelve-year-old. He found a game to occupy his time rather quickly. He had wanted to see what he could get away with while Bruce wasn't looking.

It started simple: moving things around behind Bruce's back, messing with some computer settings when his father wasn't looking. He once changed the autocorrect feature on the computer to say "butts" whenever Bruce typed a word starting with B. He got better as time went on, and so did his tricks. He started seeing what real changes he could make around the cave without his father noticing.

His best attempt was a small victory. Something barely noticeable, but meaningful nonetheless. Jason had carved his name on the table under the bat computer.

Bruce had passed out in the chair one night after a long day, and Jason seized his chance. He snuck under the desk with his pocket knife and scratched "Jay was here" in harsh lines across the metal. It was barely noticeable until it caught the light, but it was perfect.

While he waited to speak with Robin, he sank to his knees and shuffled around Bruce's legs, going under the desk. He wouldn't dare try to touch his father again. The pain, both emotional and physical, was too great.

Jason managed to wedge his body around Bruce and slide towards the back of the desk. He looked up. There, in the dim light, were his words still scratched into the metal. Something in his chest loosened. A tightness he wasn't aware of until it had eased. It was still there, it hadn't changed. He wasn't totally gone.

He sat a moment, needing to breathe. This was Jason's safe space. A place he would seek comfort after tough cases, ones that ended badly or couldn't be resolved. A small space just for himself, guarded by the legs of the man he trusted most in this world. Marked by his words, and his words alone. His cave.

If he closed his eyes, it felt as if nothing had happened. He could believe, for a moment, that he was just waiting for Bruce to finish up his reports after a patrol — he was safe, protected, not alone.

But he wasn't. Not anymore.

He lived in an unknown world now. Between the one he knew and the one waiting for him just out of his reach. It felt dark, uncertain, and so cold.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at the words. He had shifted to lie on his back, his arms tucked under the back of his head. They were farther away, but he still traced each line with his eyes, knowing that touching it with his fingers would only hurt more. He went over the words again and again; they grounded him. They were an anchor to what was, and what he wasn't willing to give up.

As he traced the words, his eyes caught something else glinting in the light. Words. More words were written under his desk. In his space: an invasion of his world.

The light was too dim. He couldn't see what they said. It was written farther back, closer to the wall. He slid down and tilted his head, getting a better angle. There, in the darkness, were four new words: "Miss you, Little Wing."

Dick.

His brother had found him. Even after he was gone, Dick must have gone to the spot that Jason coveted, to what? Be with him? Mourn him?

He reached up to touch the words and acknowledge the message his brother left him, but he was interrupted. Movement caught his eye once more. Bruce was leaving, and the walls of his makeshift cave were breaking; he was exposed.

Not like anyone could see him anyway. Well, anybody but Robin—

He spared a glance at the notes once more and then crawled towards the retreating figures. Bruce stalked away and up the stairs without a backward glance as Dick cursed something under his breath and climbed onto his motorcycle.

Robin stood in the middle of the room, head downturned and unmoving. The distant slam of the cave door echoed against the rev of Nightwing's engine as he peeled out of the garage. Both figures left loudly, yet silently. Not a single word was exchanged.

These were not the men that Jason knew. Not now. Not how Jason remembered them.

His mind, his memory, was full of soft smiles and gentle words. Feelings of happiness and security. The knowledge that he could rely on the people around him for support, guidance, and love. He remembered warmth.

But here, he only felt the cold.

The room was silent once more. The tense silence that he now understood was the norm. So different, so sad. Had he done this? Did he ruin his family because of his selfish desires?

"Are you real?" came a whisper, pulling Jason from his thoughts. He turned to the boy, regarding him. Robins's head remained downturned, the same as when Batman stalked from the room.

Robin's eyes were shut tight. Afraid. His hands were curled into fists at his side. Ready, though useless against his untouchable form.

"No." Remarked Jason dryly. He was frustrated, confused, and tired. He had no patience for the young impostor. "I'm a figment of your guilt-ridden imagination. An apparition of the boy you stole that costume from."

Robin tensed, taking a deep breath. He flinched as though Jason had struck him. It felt wrong.

"What do you want?" He asked, eyes still screwed shut.

Jason sighed, looking closer at the boy. He looked skinny. Tired. Haggard. This Robin didn't look like he slept much… or ate much. Did Bruce not take care of him?

"Listen…" started Jason, the anger fading from his tone. He couldn't be mad at the kid. It wasn't his fault that this had happened to Jason. That was his own fault. "I don't know what's going on here, but I feel like I woke up in Bizarro world."

Jason sighed and slumped to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. He dropped his head into his hands, his dark curls falling in front of him and blocking the view of the young Robin. He could barely feel the floor underneath him, an odd sensation of something under him, but not a familiar feeling. He couldn't even sit anymore—

A hand touching his shoulder startled him. It wasn't a warm touch, but instead, his skin broke out into those sharp needles, causing him to flinch back and away from the feeling.

Robins eyes widened as he too took a step back, looking down at his hand. He stretched it and closed it into a tight fist before looking back over at Jason.

"Sorry," the boy said, almost shyly. "I didn't think that would work. My hand felt like it turned to ice. Does it feel like that for you?" His voice sounded intrigued, curious, boyish… too young.

"No," responded Jason, giving no further explanation as he rubbed the uncomfortable feeling out of his shoulder. "How old are you anyway? You look younger than I was when I took over Robin."

"Am not," Robin replied indignantly. "You were twelve. I'm fourteen." He pushed his shoulders back, trying to appear taller than he was. But even with the effort, he was still a head shorter than Jason was when he started working with Bruce. His arms were skinny and he had little muscle. It looked wrong for him to be Robin, unsafe. He needed more training, a stronger figure, more time to train.

What was Bruce thinking?

"Sure, shortstack. Whatever you say," He agreed, moving to stand next to the boy. He was indeed much shorter than him, though he is older now than he was when he became Rob. "Bruce lets you go out and patrol? What training have you done?"

Robin tenses, invisible walls seeming to rise around him. He looked fiercer like this, more calculated. He looked more like Robin than he did with his head hanging low next to Bruce.

"Of course, I patrol. Batman needs a Robin. Nobody else was going to do it, so I stepped up." He bristled, his eyes glazing as he thought back. "You wouldn't understand; you were gone, but he was angry. He didn't pull his punches anymore. Got real sloppy."

"What?" questioned Jason. That didnt sound right. Bruce was violent, sure, he was Batman. But he was never unjust. Never unkind.

"I was the one who noticed," continued Robin. "I did what I had to do. Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs a Robin." He huffed towards Jason. His defensive position strengthening, showing some muscle in his arms.

"But what about Dick?" asked Jason. His brother would have helped, surely. If Bruce had gotten that bad, his brother would have stepped in.

"Nightwing tried… I guess. He was the first person I went to when I saw Batman getting more violent, but he said he was busy with Bludhaven and didn't have time to help Bruce. He told me he would get better on his own, but it only got worse."

Jason's head swam. Bruce got angry? Mean? and Dick didn't help? What had happened to his family?

"So then you, what, asked to be Robin?" Jason looked back at the kid, Robin, incredulously. Bruce had only given it to Jason when he found out about Dick. He gave it to him because he was his son. But this Robin wasn't related to him, he was just a child.

"Well, not exactly. Bruce didn't want help. He wanted to be alone, but I knew he needed me. So I made my own suit and started to patrol with him." The boy winced as he thought back to the memory, "He hated it. He screamed at me, told me I was crazy… But one night, he got into a bad situation, and I helped. I got him out before he got killed. So he took me on as Robin." He shrugged, like it was all just history and not the most heartbreaking and devastating thing Jason had ever heard about his own family.

Jason had had enough. His mind had been trying to keep up, put the pieces together, but this was all too much. He broke, crumpling once again to the floor. His entire life had changed, had ended, and now everything was fucked.

"How long has it been?" Jason's voice was hoarse. Grief filled his throat and closed it tight. He felt like he couldn't breathe, not that he had to anymore.

Robin's face sobered, understanding in his eyes. His defences dropped and he stepped closer to Jason, reaching to touch his shoulder again, but rethinking at the last moment. His hand hovered instead. Jason didn't flinch, didn't move. His head was filled with new information. His father was not who he was when he had last seen him, and neither was his brother.

"Two years," whispered the new Robin. "It's been two years since you've been gone…"

Robin opened and closed his mouth, seeming to form words and rethink them over and over again in his mind. Jason remained silent. Two years.

"I'm sorry," Robin whispered. His hand once again settled on Jason's shoulder. The needles erupted down his arm and across his back, but he didn't move. He couldn't. The pain helped to ground him, pull him out of his spiral. He would have time to crash, but now wasn't it. There had to be a reason he was still here, still around. He didn't stay dead, and he needed to figure out why.

He sniffed, pulling himself together, and reached over to touch the hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it, the pins and needles now spreading into his hand and down his arm. He looked up at the Robin in front of him, so young, so thin, so determined.

"What's your name?" Jason asked.

"Oh, it's um… Tim. My name is Timothy Drake," he replied.

"Well, Tim, it looks like I need your help," smiled Jason. This wouldn't be the end for him. He would find out what had happened and why he had come back. He would fix his family and, hopefully, fix himself. The world didn't seem to be done with him, and he certainly wasn't done with this world.

--

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to follow along, I'm also posting on ao3 here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Cold (A Jason Todd Fic)

Batman (DCU) - Jason Todd (Robin) Fic

Summary: Jason wakes up in his room, but everything is different. He can't remember how he got there or what happened, but something is wrong. His body is cold, and everyone is acting differently. On top of that, they're all ignoring him. Everyone but Tim.

His room was cold.

The manor was always cold. It was an old house full of drafts and cold spots. A symptom of age and the loss of too many of its inhabitants, they lingered. This cold felt different, though. It wasn't drafty or chilled. It was a shiver that ran straight down to his bones and stayed there. It felt as if he were made of ice.

Why was it so cold?

He was in his bed, but the covers weren't around him. They lay folded neatly under his body. He didn't remember how he got there. Though that wasn't unusual. Jason developed a bad habit of falling asleep around the manor. Bruce often had to carry him to bed if he fell asleep doing his mission reports in the cave. But Bruce always made sure to cover him.

The routine started early on after Jason came to the manor. Jason would find himself fighting sleep somewhere that wasn't his bed, and inevitably, he would crash. Bruce would bring him back to his room, tuck him in with warm blankets, and stay just a few minutes to make sure he was ok.

It might have been a symptom of the nightmares and fits Jason had when he first arrived at the manor— Bruce's watchful eye. When Jason was still adjusting, Bruce often found him curled up in a blanket on the floor, the bed being too soft after years of sleeping on the ground. Jason hated the bed at first, a representation of all he lacked, the life his mother couldn't provide him. He sometimes hated Bruce, too, for having so much while he had to survive with so little.

Time helped to heal those wounds. Jason started to sleep in the bed. He felt safe enough around the manor to nap and find sleep in less familiar places, too. Most of the time, he would fall asleep in Bruce's big leather chair in the cave. The echoing ceilings and soft sounds of distant water often lulled him to sleep.

And each time, Bruce would dutifully carry him from his spot and back to his room, remembering to wrap the blanket tightly around him. Reminding him that he was safe, he would stay warm, and that he was loved. Bruce was never the best with his words, but his actions spoke for him.

So why was he lying on top of the covers, and more importantly, why was he still in his Robin uniform?

Jason sat up and looked around the room. It was his bedroom, unchanged since the last time he saw it — probably yesterday. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness. Something was different… something had changed.

He stood and walked toward his bookshelf, the familiar sight calmed his racing mind. The shelf was full of memories — and books, but mostly memories. Every birthday, holiday, or special event in Jason's life at the manor is paired with a book. Bruce had quickly discovered Jason's love for literature when his eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of the home library on their first tour.

Since day one, Bruce had gone out of his way to find books for Jason. He wanted him to feel safe, cared for, and most importantly, wanted. He had gotten the first one during his first Christmas at the manor — a signed copy of Robin Hood — and another on his birthday, a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice, written by "A Lady." He had those sealed in protective cases. They were priceless.

His others he had collected later on. One for his first day of school, academic achievements, and even his first night as Robin. Bruce made sure Jason had a book for each.

He smiled at the books, running his finger lightly along the front of the shelf, reading the titles as he went. He organized them in chronological order, from his first day up until now. He paused when he got to the third book down. The shelf felt weird, almost tingly against his finger.

He couldn't feel the smooth finish of the mahogany wood, instead, it felt like his hand had fallen asleep, and pins and needles were sticking into the tips of his fingers. He shook his hand out and let it rest next to him. He must have slept on it weird.

He moved on from the shelf and towards his desk. He remembered leaving a few case files out to check on when he was last here. He had been planning to bring Bruce a case on some robberies happening in Crime Alley. He was tired of Bruce ignoring that part of town, and he felt like he was old enough to contribute now. But the files were gone. Alfred must have cleaned up while he was out on patrol.

He took a look around the room again, that weird feeling pricking at the back of his neck. There was something off. The room felt cold. Not the cold that was still seeping deep into his bones, but a different kind. A sad kind. He felt like he was missing something.

Bruce would tell him to take a step back, remember the facts. It was one of the first things he learned as Robin. Their first case wasn't as smooth as Bruce had hoped for Jason's introduction. It was meant to be a simple stakeout — watch the perp and grab him when he left his apartment. But Jason was new, sloppy, and the goon saw them. He managed to escape and clear out before they could catch him. Bruce taught him how to be a detective that night. Take stock, learn the facts, remember your training.

They managed to catch the goon the next night. Jason got an early release of Sherlock Holmes as a reward. His first case.

His brain seemed foggy now, though. He couldn't remember everything that happened. He knew he had woken up in his bed, he was still in his costume, it was unusually cold, and… dark. Very dark. He looked around and noticed new curtains in his room. When had he gotten those?

The windows were framed with thick black curtains. Ones that helped to keep the cold out in the winter. He knew it was night, from the quiet in the house, but these seemed to block even the smallest sliver of light from coming through. It was summer. Why had Alfred hung these?

He reached forward and touched the fabric. The tingling in his fingers erupted as his finger grazed the fabric, sending a shock running up his arm. What the hell?

He tried again, the shock again running up his arm, raising goose bumps along his skin from his gloved hand up to the sleeve of his shirt. He pushed through the feeling and nudged the curtain to the side, exposing only a small shred of light that poured in from the moon.

There was snow on the ground. Flurries fell from the sky and landed softly onto the grass, blanketing the manor yard in a bright white. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying, because it was summer.

Jason went to sleep in the summer. He remembered because he finally convinced Bruce to play catch with him in the yard. He had been so busy with Wayne Industries and Batman, they hadn't had time yet to do their annual game of catch. Neither was a big fan of baseball, but this was one tradition they created to bring in the warm summer days. They had done it every year since Jason moved in, and as far as he can remember, they had their game yesterday.

So why is there snow on the ground?

Panic seeped into Jasons body, cold sweat broke out on his already cold skin, while a deep unexpected heat swarmed in his belly and began to spread out to his limbs. His eyes widened, looking back around his room, more frantic, more calculating. His mind was racing.

The room was clean, but that wasn't unusual. Alfred always snuck in to clean when Jason was away. He hated the mess, even though he promised that it was Jason's room and he could keep it how he liked. But no, the mess was gone. It was different, almost pristine. Everything was arranged exactly how he liked it. Perfect, almost like a shrine.

He rushed to the door, he had to find Bruce. He would know what was going on. He was probably down in the cave filling in the reports that Jason fell asleep doing. He felt tingling erupt through his entire body as he passed the doorway, running full tilt down the familiar hallway.

He raced down the manor steps, rounding the banister as he skidded through the foyer and made his way to the office at the end of the hall. The arms on the large grandfather clock were already in position. The clock body was already swung open and away from the wall, leaving the passageway to the cave ajar.

He slipped through and raced down the steps. Bruce, he just needed to find Bruce. He would explain everything. He would fix this. He had to. He always knew what to do. Jason's mind continued to race, thoughts flying past as he tried to rationalize what he didn't understand. What he knew was wrong.

He froze as his foot touched the last step. Bruce was at the computer, like he expected, but he wasn't alone. There was a young boy, no older than he was, sitting next to him on the console. He was dressed in a bright red and green costume with yellow boots. A Robin costume. He had black hair and sad blue eyes. He sat rigid and waiting as Bruce hunched over a file on the desk. There was no warmth here, it was colder than his room.

He watched from his step as Bruce mumbled something low, and the boy nodded. Everything about the Robin was stiff. He sat with a tall, straight back, muscles tense and ready for… something. He looked about ready to crawl out of his skin. He must be new.

And Bruce sat hunched forward, not allowing Jason to see his face. It didn't matter, though, because Jason could see the change as if he were looking at him up close. His body language was defensive. More guarded, rougher, wilder. This Bruce, his Bruce(?), was wrong. Mournful and sad, not gentle and patient. The boy's body and his reaction to Bruce as he spoke said it all; this Bruce was different.

He chanced a step further, needing to figure out what was happening. Why was everything different? He walked silently, more silently than he ever had in the cave, towards the men. He needed to get a better look.

The cave looked different. Why was everything different? The lights were lower. It looked more eerie and less inviting. The gymnastics mats that him and Dick had laid out were gone. Towering glass cases holding their costumes stood there instead. Bruce's Batman costume stood proudly in the middle, menacing even while on a mannequin. Next to it was a younger Robin's suit, his suit. A small plaque lay at its base, though he didn't stop to read the description as a third costume caught his eye. It was the Nightwing costume, but it changed. It no longer housed the frills and deep V shape that reminded Jason of 70s music; instead, it was a sleek black leotard. It looked as tight as his Robin costume was, but it had long sleeves and pant legs. The only color on the costume was a bright blue bird across the chest.

What was happening? Was Jason in a coma? How can everything be so different?

A deep voice rose behind him, causing him to turn quickly back toward Bruce and the unknown Robin. A new figure was there, dressed in an identical Nightwing costume to the one he saw in the case. The man was taller, much taller than he remembered Dick being last time he saw him. He must have been in his late teens. That couldn't be right.

His voice even sounded different. Colder, older. Not the brother he remembers.

They had finally started to get along. It was a hard adjustment for them both. Dick had gone through so much but had been willing to try and get to know his new brother. Jason, however, was rough around the edges and untrusting. It led to a brief attempt to get along, and then an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way.

Jason had started to warm up, though. They managed to patrol together sometimes and Dick seemed to be willing to try again. They had just patrolled together the night before —Dick promised to teach Jason how to do a double backflip.

But there's Dick, at least two or three years older. And there was another Robin. Not Jason.

He tried to call out to the group, but his throat was tight. It felt like he hadn't taken a breath in a while. It hurt.

He walked toward them instead, reaching out to touch Bruce. Let him know he was there. Demand an explanation. As he neared, he could hear their voices, arguing. Bruce's voice was rough and cold. Closer to a growl than his actual voice.

He pushed forward, still, and reached high to touch Bruce's shoulder. The tingling erupted down his arm, more powerful than before. More painful. He pulled his arm back, clutching it to his chest as though he had been shocked. Bruce still hadn't noticed he was there.

He tried again, more frantic this time. He felt invisible, and he needed Bruce to know he was there. He reached again, pushing through the pain. It grew stronger the closer he got to his father, mounting and prickling, poking his skin like needles as he reached. He was so close, and finally, his hand went numb, falling through Bruce's back. Right into his shoulder as though he were made of smoke.

Jason blanched, ripping his arm back, clutching it, and cradling it near his body. He still couldn't feel anything. It was completely numb. Bruce had been teaching him not to swear as much, but what the fuck was happening?

His father stiffened and turned, looking over in Jason's direction. Had Jason gotten his attention? He straightened, hoping Bruce would see him and smile, explain it was all a joke. But his father turned, looked toward Jason, and then right through him. Like he wasn't there at all.

He didn't understand, or at least he didn't want to. But then he did, because in that moment, clarity struck. The haze that had filled his mind since he woke cleared, and he remembered. He remembered it all.

He had died.

He had gone to Ethiopia, looking for his mother. He didn't know why now. He had Bruce, and Dick, but he had felt empty. The knowledge that the woman who raised him had not been his mother ate away at him until he had to do something about it. He had gone to Ethiopia, but instead of meeting his mother, he found the Joker.

He had tried to escape. He used every trick Batman had taught him, but in the end, he was still young, and the Joker was strong. He had hoped Bruce would come for him, prayed to Gods he wasn't sure he believed in, but inevitably, he ran out of time. He remembered the cold realization when he saw that the timer would end before he made it to the door. Thankfully, he didn't remember the bomb going off.

He looked at Bruce's haggard face as he scanned the room, looking for the source of the cold breeze on his shoulder. He could see the grief and pain written plain as day. Haunting. He saw the hardened walls that Bruce had built around himself that had never been there before. This wasn't his father, it was a shell. And he understood. This was his fault… he had caused Bruce to be like this.

He would have stayed looking at Bruce forever if it weren't for the gasp that came from his right. He turned abruptly to see two large eyes staring directly at him, looking at him. Seeing him. The same eyes that remained hidden behind a black mask. Eyes that belonged to the child wearing his suit. Robin. His replacement.

"Can you see me?" Jason asked, holding back his hope. His voice sounded gruff and angry. The epitome of a dark and vengeful spirit. He knew he was dead; he was sure of it. But he was still here, still aware. Time had passed and changes had been made, but he was here. Robin could see him. He could still have hope.

The new boy wonders eyes widened at Jason's voice. Jason could see the recognition in the boy's eyes. Recognition of what, he wasn't sure, but he knew one thing for sure: he had heard him. A quick nod was the only response he received as the boy shifted his attention back to Bruce, who had begun barking instructions towards the boys.

Jason jumped in front of the boy again, demanding attention now. Everything was changing and nothing made sense, but he knew if he lost this opportunity to get help from "the other side," he would be screwed.

"You don't get to ignore me, replacement, you hear me?" Jason's voice echoed in his ears, quiet in the cave but loud in his head. "I don't know what is happening, but you're the only one that can see me and I need your help figuring this shit out."

He waved his hand in front of Robin's face, trying to pull his attention from Bruce, but the boy was rigid. His eyes remained on the older man as he barked orders and criticised their patrol from the night. He was harsh in pointing out areas that Robin had failed in and remarked on how sloppy Nightwing was during the robbery they had stopped. Dicks face remained cold, unreadable, so different from the smiling boy he remembered.

He huffed crossed his arms, this Bruce was being a real dick, and on top of that he was being ignored.

Jason slumped back against the computer console next to the boy. He wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, not now that he knew someone could help him. Not now that he wasn't alone.

He would figure his way out of this, and that imposter Robin would help. This would not be the end of Jason Todd.

--

Hope you enjoyed! I might add on to this story, but I'm still planning.

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[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You've Got Mail

Chapter 8: We Need to Talk

Ch. 7

Hey Tim,

I’m so happy to hear from you. Glad everything is just busy and nothing worse. You never know with this town.

-

How am I? — Oh well, I'm so glad you asked, because I wish I could say I did like you asked and stopped checking the names in the news, but I didn't. I know, I know, I’m not helping anyone by drowning in bad news, but I just couldn't stop myself. I’m a worrywart at heart.

And you know the funny thing is… I was watching last night, and for the first time, the name Tim came up. I, obviously, had a mini heart attack. What if it were you? What if something happened and I'd never get to hear from you again? So many thoughts rushed through my head, I couldn't just look away.

Thankfully, his name was just on the injured list and nothing too serious — he was a hostage in a minor bank robbery downtown. He was alive at least. Thank god.

The robbers roughed him up a bit, it looked like he had a pretty nasty black eye when they played the footage. But overall, he looked alright.

It got me thinking, though, because they showed his picture when they read his name —like a close-up from when he was interviewed in the back of an ambulance— and he didn't look like someone who would get held up.

He was shorter, and maybe a little lean, but he didn't look scared like the rest of the hostages. And trust me, everyone else looked terrified. They had just had guns pointed in their faces by guys wearing masks. I would be shitting my pants if I were in their situation, but Tim —he actually looked kinda annoyed, like being in the hold up was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

It reminded me of you.

It was probably because his name was Tim. At least it was at first. Because then I really thought about it, I know that with your three types of martial arts training, you would be the one to be borderline bored at a bank robbery.

And then, as all good spirals go, that thought led to another. and another. and then another. Which led me to my hypothesis.

You don't want me to know your name, or well, your last name. I mean, I (kinda) understand, with privacy and all that. But I'm literally just a girl, so who are you really hiding from?

So I rewound the news and paused on Tim.

I noticed something I hadn't the first time. I must have been in shock when they called his name, because I completely missed the rest of it. His name wasn't just Tim. No.

It was Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.

And there I sat -mid spiral- with Gotham royalty paused on my screen. A boy who looked angry to be stuck in a bank robbery. One who is defined in the media by his last name and the ties it comes with.

One, who in the shadow of the streetlights looked surprisingly like the hero who has been making sure my mother gets home safe each night. Someone who gave me safety tips and works "security" at night, but still deals with rogues.

A boy who works at his father's company, Wayne Industries. An adopted son who has three brothers that he is often seen with at events — Dick, Jason, and Damian Wayne.

A boy I've come to know as my best friend.

--

I think we need to talk.

~Quinn.

--

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[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

The Neighbor

Chapter 2: Just Neighborly Things

Ch. 1

Her apartment was a mess. It had been a week since she moved in, but every room was still stacked with unpacked or half-open boxes. At this point, she had no idea where anything was anymore. Her apartment had well and truly become a kingdom of cardboard, and Bailey was its queen. 

She had fully intended to unpack everything right away. She even took off a few days of work to get everything organized, but life never works out quite how she planned it. The day after moving in, she got a frantic call from her manager saying that half the staff had been caught up in some fear toxin at a club the night before and would not be coming in for the foreseeable future. So, never having learned how to say no to anybody, she dropped what she was doing and headed into work. 

She originally got her job at the diner when she was 16, barely able to work. Her family needed some extra cash to help with the bills, and being the oldest daughter, it landed on her to find a solution. Luckily, Bea, the owner of Valley Diner, took pity on her. She started just bussing tables but worked herself up to waitress pretty quickly. Bea would also slip her extra meals during her shifts, since she knew it was tough at home. It's what kept her coming back, even now. It was more of a home to her than her real one. 

But the “debt” she felt she owed to Valley Diner, which everyone lovingly nicknamed Alley Diner since the V on the neon sign burnt out a couple years ago, was the reason she was currently scarfing down cold Batburger on her couch. She propped the TV up against the wall and was using some empty boxes as a table while she caught up with a few episodes of The Bachelor. She would get to unpacking after. 

The last thing she expected after changing into her pajamas and settling in was a knock at the door. It was 8:30 at night on a Wednesday, and nobody she knew had her new address. Who could possibly be bothering her?

Bailey grew up on Park Row. She knew she shouldn’t answer the door to strangers. “Hit the lights and pretend you aren't home,” is what her mom always used to say. But, she was better than that now, right? She had left the alley. Surely she could just take a peek and see. 

Curiosity killed the cat, and all that. 

But when she checked, she was a little more than surprised to see Jason standing on the other side. And was he wearing an apron? What the fuck. 

She pulled the door open and there stood her neighbor, indeed sporting a long black apron on top of his usual black tee and jeans. He leaned casually against her door jam, taking her in quickly before looking past her at the monstrosity she called her home. 

“Done looking?” he smirked, refocusing his attention back on her.

“Um, What?” she blinked, quickly pulling her door back towards her, cutting off his view of her shame. Too little too late. “Sorry… Hi! What are you doing here?” she fumbled, face turning bright red at the idea of being caught effectively checking him out AND him seeing the mess behind her.

“I was just in the neighborhood,” he joked, gesturing towards his apartment door. It was only three down from hers, at the end of the hallway. In the week since their last encounter, she had seen him a couple of times, on her way to or from the diner. He usually had a duffle bag with him and looked like he had just come from the gym, even at midnight. It was weird. 

“Right,” she nodded, laughing lightly at his joke, “but what are you doing here? Like at my door?” She cocked her head to the side, she honestly couldn’t figure it out. Had she not embarrassed herself so badly at their first meeting that he had written her off as a lost cause? 

“I was wondering if you had any salt I could borrow?” He laughed, her face had scrunched up, and with her head tilted to the side, she looked like a confused puppy. “I really don't want to go back down to the bodega. Mrs. Fouler will talk my ear off for thirty minutes, and my pasta is already on the stove.”

She had met Mrs.Fouler the day before, and she understood what he meant. She had nothing against the woman; she was the kindest old lady who ran the bodega attached to the bottom of their apartment building, but boy, did she like to talk. Bailey had gone in to grab some milk for her coffee and got locked into a conversation about Mrs. Fouler's dog for over forty-five minutes. Next time she needs something before 9 am (and her first cup of coffee), she vowed to go to the corner store down the street instead. 

“Oh, yeah, that's a bad idea,” she winced sympathetically. “I’m sure I have some around here somewhere. Mind waiting out here? I uh.. Well, you saw.” Her face lit up bright red again. She had a bad habit of blushing a the slightest hint of nerves or embarrassment. 

He laughed, but nodded, stepping back from his spot against the door frame so she could safely shut the door without further incident. Turning, she looked to see the four boxes in her kitchen; one of them HAD to have salt… hopefully.

She ripped the first one open. Plates? No. The second one. Pots and pans? Not there. Ok, so then it had to be in the third one, surely. Cups. Damn it, where had she put everything from her pantry?

As luck would have it, she found the salt in the bottom of the very last box in her kitchen. A good six minutes had passed since she closed the door on Jason.  How is it possible to keep messing up with the same person over and over again? Was she cursed?

“Hey! I found it…” she called, pulling her door back open. “Sorry it took so long. Of course, it had to be in the last-“ but the hallway was empty. He left, and his door was closed.

She peeked back into her apartment, checking the clock on her oven. Ok, so maybe it took a little longer than five minutes to find, but not long enough to warrant leaving. He could have at least knocked on her door to say never mind.

“What a dick,” she mumbled under her breath.

She had every intention to just slam her door, put the salt back, and continue with her night. She wasn’t going to waste energy on guys who interrupt her plans, even if they were ridiculously attractive. How did he manage to get just that front piece of hair dyed perfectly white?

She grumbled to herself and turned to close her door, but she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. His door was opening. She opened her mouth to say something snarky, but he interrupted -

“There you are! Sorry about that, I had to check to make sure the food wasn't burning. Did you find any salt?” He was smiling, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. He probably heard her cursing through his door. Their walls could have been made out of paper with how thin they were. Ok, so maybe he didn’t abandon her, but he was still being a dick in other ways.

“Here,” she replied coldly, handing him the jar. She could grumble all she wanted, but he helped her with her fruit, so the least she could do was give him her stupid salt. 

“I appreciate it,” he smiled, genuinely this time. “Have you eaten yet? My eyes were bigger than my stomach when I started cooking and made way too much pasta. I’d be happy to share since you contributed to the meal,” he winked, holding up the salt.

Did he? Is he asking her over for dinner? 

“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, her face once again turning cherry red, “but I picked up some dinner on my way home,” she gestured to the batburger bag behind her, sitting on the coffee table made out of cardboard boxes. 

“Wouldn't want to waste it, ya know? But I appreciate the offer.” Her heart thawed slightly. He may have derailed her night, but at least he was kind enough to offer her some food. Maybe they could get along after all. 

“Maybe next time?” she added on. He was about to say more when a stray yawn escaped her mouth. The weight of the day was hitting her, and she suddenly felt bone tired. She had never pulled a week's worth of double shifts in her life, and her body had had enough. She leaned against the door jam, trying to stifle the next yawn before it escaped too. 

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. The look on his face said that he knew what it was like to be that tired and knew exactly what she needed. 

“I'll hold you to that, Bubbles. Why don't you go and get some rest, ok? You look like you’ve had a hell of a week,” He smiled and held up the jar in his hands, “Thanks again for the salt. I'll be sure to return it tomorrow.” Before she could answer, he was already backpeddling towards his apartment. 

“Yeah, Ok. Thanks.” She smiled, shaking her head at the nickname that she hadn't seemed to shake since their last meeting. “Later, neighbor,” she called, closing the door to her own apartment. The smile stayed stuck to her face for the rest of the night. 

--

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[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You've Got Mail

Chapter 7: Gotta Blast

Ch. 6

Hey Quinny,

I promise I haven’t been ignoring you. Work has been so stressful, and I haven't had a moment to breathe, let alone sit down and write a letter. I'm sorry for making you worry. That's the last thing I’d ever want to do.

If it helps, I consider you one of my best friends too, and… I’ve missed you. I read both of your letters right when I got them. I was planning to write back when I got inside, but shit hit the fan before I even made it back from the mailbox. (I may have reread them a few times too. You always know how to make me smile when I feel low.)

I don’t have a ton of time to write. I'm in between my day and night job right now, but I’m probably going to have to go in early.  There's drama at Dad's company, something about him not contributing enough to the city. If only they knew… So I’ve been staying late to deal with publicity. 

Plus, the rogue escapes have been making it a lot busier at my night job. I technically work in security - well me and my brothers do - and we’ve been on rogue watch for at least a week. I’ve barely slept. 

I don't mean to complain, I love my work. It's just that everything always has to happen at once. I have a bad habit of forgetting things that are important to me to help others when things get tough, hence my late letter. I’m really sorry, Quinn. I hope you're not done with me yet. 

Tell your mom to be careful on her walk, too. I used to hang around the Alley when I was younger, and its dangerous, especially at night. I understand that she doesn’t want to leave the kids alone, but the bats can’t be around all the time to watch her - even though I’m sure they try to be. 

Joker is back in Arkham. I heard that Red Robin got him last night. You’ll probably see it on the news tomorrow, since you’ve been watching. It was a hell of a fight, but at least it's one less thing to worry about. One Joker down, now just the rest of Arkham Asylum, right?

Please don't check for my name on the news, Q, I promise I'm being careful. I train for this, remember? All the martial arts are for a reason. They actually help me a ton when I'm at work - even when I'm at the office. (I’ll tell you that story another time). 

I want to tell you more about myself, but it's complicated. If you knew me, it would change things, and I really like how things are right now. I’ve never had a friend who truly just saw me for me, not for anything else. I’ll tell you soon, but for now, can you just trust me?

(I know how that sounded, but I promise I’m not some crazy person. I think you’d have figured that out by now anyway.)

I hope you're being safe too. If you're worried about your mom, and she's worried about the kids, who's worrying about you, Q?

I've got to go, I can already hear my phone buzzing because I’m late. I’ll write when I can, but just know that you’re always on my mind Q. <3

Gotta blast,

Timber

P. S. I'd use a bow staff. The zombies wouldn’t stand a chance.

--

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You've Got Mail

Chapter 6: Surviving but not Thriving

Ch. 5

Tim,

So I know you said you’ll be busy with work, but it's been two weeks. I kinda miss you. 

It's weird, right? We’ve technically never even met, but you're basically one of my best friends now. 

Is everything alright? You're usually so quick to write back. I'm worried.

There's been a lot of reports on TV about breakouts in Arkham. Every day someone new is escaping. Yesterday Scarecrow got out and now Joker is loose too. He scares the shit out of me Timmers. He’s the one “villain” that scares me more than anyone else in Gotham. You've lived here longer than me, I'm sure you know all about him. Have you ever seen him?

I have, unfortunately. He was running away from Batman while I was walking home from school one day. I must have been twelve, or eleven. It was pretty soon after we moved to Gotham. 

Anyway, I heard his laugh before I even saw him. Some kids at school had warned me about the Joker so I found a spot to hide in an alley. He ran right past the dumpster I was behind, but I could still see his face. He couldn’t have been more than ten feet away. I think it was his eyes that really stood out, though. They looked wild, like an animal on the loose. I wish I could forget what they looked like, but sometimes I can still see them in my dreams. 

There's been a lot more hero sightings, though. At least they haven’t given up on us. Where are my awesome time powers when I need them, right? 

Supposedly people have even seen Nightwing and Red Robin out during the day. I’d pay good money to see Nightwing in person, can you even imagine? I wonder if he's as nice as people say he is. But honestly, it's almost unheard of to see the bats out so early…. 

I hope you're being safe. They keep broadcasting the lists of people who were injured in attacks and I stupidly keep waiting to see if I hear your name. Dumb I know, I don't even know your last name. No Tims, yet though. Or Timothys. 

You know that cafe that I told you about a few letters ago, Latte Fever? Well, they apparently “found” some documents that prove the Penguin wrongfully took their company. They're going to sue him. Can you believe it? It looks promising, too. They're being represented by some fancy lawyer from the Wayne Foundation.

I bet one of the bats helped them. It's too crazy that they just magically found all these documents. That never happens around here. But I won't complain, looks like I might be able to get some decent coffee before the summer is over after all.

It's kinda crazy that they found the documents right after we were talking about it though, right? Weird coincidence. 

Anyway, I’ve pretty much been trapped inside with all the attacks going on. Mom is still going to work though, which I think is crazy. I know I’m a bit of a worry wort, hence my double messaging you. (does it still count as double messaging if it's in a letter?) She has to walk through crime alley to get there and then walks back late at night. It’s so sketchy during the day, I can’t even think about her doing it at night. I get hives thinking about it. 

She thinks she saw one of the bats the other night though, so maybe they're looking out for her too. I’m still worried.

If I don't hear from you, I'll take the hint. I don't want to jump to conclusions or be dramatic, but we live in dramatic times I guess. I really enjoyed talking to you, and maybe we’ll meet each other on campus in the fall. Thanks for being a highlight during my very dull summer. It was really fun, Timberly. 

Hope to hear from you soon. <3

Surviving but not thriving,

Q

--

The angst, I'm so sorry.

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You've Got Mail

Chapter 5: Your Favorite Pen Pal

Ch. 4

Timmy!

I was beginning to think you forgot about me! Sorry to hear that work has been busy. An internship and a night job at the same time is crazy, do you ever sleep??

So I've been going over my notes (your past letters) and I've compiled your lore. It sounds creepy when I say it like that. I really only meant to look back and see what we talked about in our last letters and then, I don't know, my data driven nerd brain went crazy. Anyway, this is what I’ve got. So, I know you have an adoptive dad named Bruce who owns a company that you work at. You used to be an only child but now you have three brothers named Jason, Dick, and one you haven't mentioned yet. Any sisters I don’t know about? lol. Also you have a mildly concerning coffee obsession. I made a note to circle back to that, it'll stunt your growth you know. But all in all, you've led an interesting life Timbo. I guess it's only fair that I give you some of my lore too. 

I'll start at the beginning. I was born in Metropolis, like I said in my first letter. Mom and dad tried their best, but dad- or should I say sperm donor- didn't care about us too much. He left when I was young. I wouldn't even remember him if it weren't for the pictures that my mom showed me. All I'll say is thank god I got my looks from my mom. 

Anyway, we lived there until I was about ten and then it just got too hard. Rent was expensive and I was too young to help, so we packed up and moved to Gotham. A real upgrade I know, but rent here is cheaper and mom was able to find a job she actually liked. She works at one of the children's homeless shelters near Park Row. And since rent was lower here, I didn’t need to find a job to pay rent. Mom said she wanted me to be a kid for as long as I could. But, being an ally-adjacent kid, it wasn't super easy. I eventually found a good group of friends and we were able to manage just fine. 

Going back to your absurd amount of martial arts skills. (I still think three is too many at once) I actually learned some self defense when I was younger. Mom organized weekly classes at the shelter and I would always tag along. I can’t classify it as actual karate, but I can hold my own against a mugger. 

Also, I can't believe you have a spreadsheet of each hero's powers. You're a bigger nerd than I am. And I knew your whole righteous, “I don't need powers to be cool” speech was bullshit. Everyone wants a power.

Flying is a cool one though. There's so many uses for it, especially if you could turn into a bird. I think I'd choose one of the big birds of prey, like an eagle or hawk. I bet you’d choose something more stealthy, like a robin or a pigeon. You would blend in with all the other birds. 

If I could be ANY animal though, I think I would pick some kind of sea creature. Maybe an orca or a shark. Fun fact about me, I'm actually terrified of the ocean. I hate that I can’t see the bottom and that we have basically no idea what lives down there. So if I had the opportunity, I would absolutely go down to figure it out. Fears and all. 

As for my summer plans, it's a whole lot of nothing. I was going to get a job, but nowhere will hire me. They want me to have crazy things like “work experience” and “good customer service.” So weird, but oh well. It gives me more time to chill before classes start. Plus I’ve been helping out at the shelter once a week. It's nice to see the kids and do what I can. They even let me practice first aid on them if they had a rough day. Don’t tell them I told you, though. They like to act tough and pretend they don’t need my help. Something about their “street cred?”

What's your night job, by the way. I’m surprised you need one if you're already working at your dads fancy company. That sounded judgy. I just meant, well, it must be something cool if youre doing it without really needing the money, right?

My question this week is, If you had to choose one weapon to use during a zombie apocalypse, which would you choose and why?

I’d take after my good friend Harley (because apparently I'm a super villain now? Thanks for that) and use a bat. It's reliable and easy to carry, basically the best choice. 

Thanks for sticking around Tim, it means a lot. Getting your letter every week always makes me smile. And yes, we're going to stick to letters, email isn’t as special. And I think this is special, or at least, it is to me.

“See” you next week!

Your favorite pen pal,

Quinnley 

P.S. Yes, that is my real name. Thanks for the compliment <3 My mom thought it was regal and “unique.” I'm just pissed that I’ll never find my name on a keychain when I go to the beach. 

--

Thanks for reading!

Check out all the chapters here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

The Neighbor

Summary: Bailey just moved out on her own, and its been going… ok. She might be a bit of a hot mess and she definitely made a bad first impression with her hot neighbor, but things cant get any worse, right?

DCU/Batman AU

Jason Todd x Original Female Character

Chapter 1: The Not-So-Meet Cute

“No mom- I- yeah I can’t believe it either, but-” she interrupted over the phone… again. I was barely listening. She called as I was leaving the grocery store and didn’t let me get one word in on my entire walk home.

“Can I call you later? I have all my groceries and I just got to my door. I need to get them inside-” but of course she kept talking. There was new family drama that I just HAD to know about. Some distant cousin that I had met maybe once in my life was getting a divorce. Gasp. It was the scandal of the century according to my busybody mother. I love her but no information is ever safe with that woman.

She kept talking while I struggled to reach into my purse to grab my keys. How do they always manage to sink to the very bottom of my bag every time? Just when I found them, a true feat with four full grocery bags in each arm, my left arm suddenly felt alarmingly lighter.

“Shit. Mom, I have to go.” I cursed and hit the end call button while she was still talking. One of the bags had ripped open and my hallway was now a Jackson Pollock painting of fruits and vegetables.

Great. I sighed and put all the other bags down next to my door. The bottom had fallen out of the ruined bag completely, it was a lost cause. Plan B, then. I shrugged off my sweatshirt and tied the arms around my waist, keeping the larger part in front of me. Looks like I was going veggie picking.

Starting at my door I worked my way down the hallway, grabbing apples and cucumbers and shoving them into my newly designed sweatshirt basket. I was almost done when the door at the end of the hall opened. I called a quick warning, since my tomatoes had chosen to stop their escape directly in front of his doorstep, but it was too late.

“What the f-” he mumbled gruffly. I winced at my now crushed fruit, smeared against his black boots and all over the carpet. He had one shoe in the air, looking angrily down at the mess. What a great way to meet my new neighbor.

“I am so sorry!” I called from two doors down, squatting on the floor, still sporting my awkward fruit basket. Boy was this an awful time to find out my neighbor was hot. Like really hot. “My bag ripped. I was just coming over to grab those. I’ll clean up the mess once I'm done getting everything else.”

He looked over at me sharply, placing his foot back on the ground but avoiding the mess this time. He gave me a slow look - taking in the bird's nest I call a bun on top of my head, leggings and the unfortunate Power Puff Girls crop top I had just thrifted. He seemed less than impressed. Awesome first impression, Bailey. Self high five.

“I can see that.” He nodded. He was almost as tall as his door frame and just as wide. The brown leather jacket he wore hugged his frame perfectly and the white wisp of hair in front of his black locks was beautiful. If I was Jackson Pollock he was Michelangelo.

“Here, let me just-” I tried to stand, but all of the fruit in my hands decided to choose that moment to escape back onto the floor. I sighed, sitting back down in defeat. “I'm Bailey by the way, just moved into 4B. I promise I'm not usually this much of a hot mess.”

“For some reason I doubt that.” He laughed, turning back into his apartment and shutting the door behind him. I sat there gaping. Well that was rude, I hadn’t made the best first impression, sure, but just leaving without even introducing himself is just not- oh.

His door opened again, but this time he was wearing different, equally nice, black combat boots, and he had a bag in his hand. Did he get me a bag?

“Here, I think you might need this.” He smirked, grabbing a few oranges from near his feet and sticking them in the reusable tote bag. “I’m Jason.”

Jason. I repeated it in my head a few times. I had a bad habit of forgetting someone's name if I didn’t say it enough. It suited him too. It was a tough name, rugged and durable, like him.

“Oh, thanks.” I smiled, quickly gathering my fruit back into my makeshift basket. I walked over and dumped my haul into the bag, taking it out of his hands. It seemed like it would hold much better than those cheap brown paper bags they make you pay $.10 for at the store. “You're a lifesaver.”

He smiled and grabbed the last couple carrots from the floor, tossing them in the bag from where he stood a few feet away. He was surprisingly accurate, nothing but net.. Or a well bag. I had to get myself some of these, they hold so much more and are way easier to carry.

“Sorry again about your shoes, I can clean them if you want. It's not your fault you were wrongfully attacked by a tomato while leaving your apartment.” He laughed but shook his head, no.

“Trust me, those shoes have seen worse. It’ll be fine.” He stood next to me, hands in his pockets. He seemed relaxed, but his eyes kept moving. It looked like he was checking each of the corners, the stairs, even other doors. It was like he wanted me to see this easy going guy, but he couldn't stop himself from being aware of everything. I'm sure he clocked the rest of my groceries sitting outside my door, as well as my phone and purse that I abandoned halfway through my produce scavenger hunt. Interesting.

“Still,” I started, tuning back into the conversation. “I'd be happy to help. I’ll make sure to get whatever's left on the floor too. I really appreciate you taking time to help me pick everything up.” “Were you headed somewhere?” I continued. Was I rambling? Maybe. Did that happen when I got nervous? Also maybe. “Let me make you a coffee for your troubles, I made you do physical labor within two minutes of knowing you.”

I gestured toward my apartment, knowing full well that I hadn’t had time to even set up my coffee maker. It was still sitting inside a box somewhere, but I was nothing if not polite. My mamma didn’t raise me to be slacking on manners, especially with your neighbors.

“I’ll have to take a rain check,” he replied smoothly, shutting the idea down almost instantly. Oof that stung. “I’m headed to a family meeting, and as much as I’d like to skip it, it would be a bigger headache if I wasn't there.”

“Oh yeah,” I backtracked, needing to save at least some of my pride. “No worries. Another time for sure. I still need to unpack anyway.” He gave me a small smile, nodding like he understood.

“I’ll see you around, Bubbles,” he called, already turning and walking towards the staircase. Wait, what did he call me?

“My name is Bailey!” I called, huffing a bit that he forgot already. Did I make such a bad impression that he didn't even try to remember it? I said it like two minutes ago!

He laughed, turning to face me again. His smile was mischievous, different than any I had seen from him in my short time knowing him, but it looked natural. Like it was a look he wore often.

“I know,” he called, sparing a glance down at my shirt before turning again, the smirk still plastered across his face. I looked down, did he just check me out?

Oh. The Power Puff Girls shirt. Well, I guess it's a better nickname than veggie girl. Hallway disaster? Hot mess express?

Whatever, I’ll take it.

--

Hope you enjoy!

You can find other chapters as they are posted here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You've Got Mail

Chapter 4: From the Trenches

Ch. 3

Quinnley,

Is your name really Quinnley? That's kind of badass, and also really pretty.

Well Q, it seems we’re destined to be friends, since I couldn’t stop myself from reading the rest of your letter and fell right into your trap. You’re just too charming… How dare you? And funny too!  Remind me to stop drinking water when I read your letters, the last one is still hanging up to dry. Some of those nicknames had me rolling. 

As for my brothers… it's a weird topic, I guess. I'm sure you’ve figured out from my last letters that I grew up most of my life as an only child. I always wanted siblings. It was so lonely in my house by myself, so I get what you mean by that. But suddenly I was thrown into this house with two older boys and it was so intimidating. They already had their own stuff going on and I was always in the middle of it. I felt like an outsider. We eventually found our way though, we even found a fourth brother too, but it was messy. I wouldn't have called them my friends, especially at first, but now they’re closer than that, more like actual brothers I guess. (don't tell them I said that, especially Dick. He will cry.)

Why do I always get sappy when I'm writing to you? You owe me something juicy in return, I need some secrets so we can balance this out. 

Back to the important stuff though: Coffee. We definitely have to get together when school starts because if you thought Latte Fever was good coffee then you have been seriously deprived. That is mediocre at best. I mourn your taste buds, truly.

It's a shame that they got bought out, though. Nobody should lose their small business, even if they do have bad coffee. There's a cafe downtown near campus that is a million times better, I promise. I'd say we can go sooner, but I'm totally swamped interning at my dads company this summer. He wants me to “get a taste of the business,” or whatever. I think it's just free labor.

I may also be a bit sporadic with my letters because of my crazy hours. He has me working during the day and then I have my own job at night, so sleep and free time have been scarce lately. I promise I'm not ignoring you, just incredibly busy. 

My schedule also has me dropping all my jujitsu and karate classes. Which, by the way Ms. Judgy, is a totally normal sport to be in. I'm allowed to have hobbies, ok? Martial arts is a great skill, one that maybe the average Gothamite needs more than in other cities, but it's also a stress reliever and genuinely fun. So what if I wanted to learn three different types at the same time? I like being prepared. 

You should give it a try some time. It's surprisingly addictive and fun. Plus, everyone should know how to defend themselves. 

You should especially learn something since you don't have your sick time control powers. It would be awesome if you did, and I'm honored that you would let me try it out, but at the moment nobody (not even you) has been registered with those skills yet. Trust me I have a spreadsheet. But I see what you're talking about, there's so many logistics to consider with it. I think if the power did exist, it could be amazing or really dangerous. Think of that power in the wrong hands… It's definitely a super villain in the making. 

NOT that I think you would be a super villain, or anything. Shit, see this is why we should email or text so I can delete the dumb things I say. I just meant that the power has the potential. Like Harley, uh I mean Poison Ivy, she's a chaotic good, right? (Yes, I also play D&D). She goes by her own moral compass, I feel like that's more your speed. Anyway, before I die in the hole I'm digging for myself, I decided to change my answer to your question. I really thought about it and I think I’d have the power to not need sleep. It would make my life so much easier in so many ways. (he says while falling asleep).

Ok. Now for the important stuff. I'm glad you're not a monster that puts fruit on their pizza. As you can see from this letter, we can still be on speaking terms. 

And to answer your question, I can't in good faith consider a hotdog a sandwich. The bread connects on the bun, if anything it would be a taco before being a sandwich. Sandwiches are two pieces of bread, separated by the ingredients inside. A hamburger would be a sandwich, but not a hotdog. I'm so sorry but you can’t change my mind. 

To keep with tradition, my next question is: If you could be an animal for a day, which one would you pick and why? 

(Mines a bird. Soaring through the skies and flying between buildings sounds like such a fun time.)

Hope you're enjoying the nice weather. What are your plans for the summer? I like learning more about you Q, it's been really fun. 

Till next time. 

From the trenches,

Tim-o-t

-

Real question though... Is a hot dog a sandwich? I need to know!

Check out the other chapters of the story here!

Thanks for reading!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You've got Mail

Chapter 3: Did We Just Become Best Friends?

Ch. 2

Hey Tim, 

Do you just go by Tim? No fun nicknames? Timbo, Timote, Timberlake? 

Fear not, new bestie, I'll come up with something. Everyone deserves a cool nickname.

I'm sorry that my letter was a surprise. Thinking back, the website was a bit outdated - I guess I didn't notice. If you’re rethinking it or not interested in talking to a random stranger now that you’re older and wiser - poor young Timmy :( - I’d understand and you can stop reading right now. No strings attached, no hard feelings, just crumple up the paper and throw it away.

– 

But if you keep reading….

Yup, it's too late now. We're officially friends. It's like it was meant to be, because I seriously don't know anyone else who will be able to read your handwriting like I can. (joking…kinda.) I only had to turn the paper sideways like twice. I got the jist. 

You're brothers seem fun. You mentioned them a few times, I bet you have tons of stories. Did you want siblings before you were adopted? I know that I always wished for a few when I was little. They're like built in friends! What's not to love, right?

As for my game, I'll absolutely let you play. It's still in the beginning stages and I'm mapping out the story, but once I have that down it'll be smooth sailing (hopefully). Because you were so nice in your letter, I'll even tell you a little about it. Itsloosely based on a D&D game I played with my friends, so basically an open world, choose your own adventure kind of story. And since you're doing computer science, maybe you can help me with bugs and stuff while i'm working on it? Two letters in and I'm already using you for free labor, but don't worry I'll give you your own credit at the end. I can see it now…

 

Game Creator, Writer, Designer, Director, Editor, Publisher: Quinnley Rose 

(Now imagine the screen scrolling… a lot of scrolling - like the screen just keeps going and going while cute music plays and little animals dance around the screen, and then finally, at the bottom right before it fades to black and goes back to the main menu…)

The Help: Timberly (or whatever nickname we decide on, still a work in progress until I know more about you)

  

I probably shouldn't be joking so much with someone who knows three types of material arts…. But really, THREE Timmy? Seriously, you couldn't stop at just one? I sense a bit of an overachiever over here, I knew this was all too good to be true. But actually, why three? I get we live in Gotham, but that's still a bit overboard. (plz dont karate chop me for asking) 

You do kinda make up for it with the coffee recs though. The cafe I used to go to got bought out by the penguin. It was called Latte Fever, on Park Ave. He must have skimped out on the coffee beans and ordered from somewhere cheaper once he got it though because the coffee is complete ass now. Plus the baristas are so mean and they can never spell my name right. How hard is Quinn? Somehow they always throw a W in there. Like how? Where do you hear a W, I need to know. Anyway, excuse my (very well founded) rant… know anywhere near downtown that's good? Maybe we can go together when we start school.

As for your incredibly well thought out questions about my powers of choice, I'd be happy to elaborate. In my perfect world, where I have these powers and there's equal rights and world peace, I wouldn't age when I stopped time. It would basically be a full pause on everything, but my body and brain would continue to function. All aging, sickness, or processes would freeze too and I'd be free to go about my business. Think of all the pranks I’d be able to pull, it would be beautiful. So going with that, I'd say time would have to universally stop, since there would be contingencies and problems if time stopped in one city, but kept going somewhere else. I'd imagine that if I stopped it enough, Gotham would end up being stuck in the dark ages while everywhere else progressed. Uhh what else? Oh yeah, I don't think anyone would know about the time stops, just me. It makes it more fun. Now the real question is, would I be able to stop time with someone else? That's an interesting idea. (and yes, Timberella, I would let you have a turn too if it worked)

Also your Robin crush is sooo cute. I also went through a BIG hero phase. (I think we all did). I was a Nightwing girl though, but can you blame me? The man is fine as hell. I do like that you think regular people can be heroes though,  it makes the title a bit more special. 

And lastly, but certainly most importantly, your question. 

Of course pineapple does NOT belong on pizza. What kind of animal do you think I am? 

If I hear that you're a pineapple supporter, I might need to cease all communication right now. I don’t think I could get over it. We would be too different. 

Now for my question: Is a hotdog a sandwich?

I’ll need a detailed explanation to back up your answer. 

For real though, thanks for writing back. This is nice, and I hope we can keep talking. Checking the mailbox each day has helped with the whole, all my friends are gone thing. Hope it's helping you too. 

All blues, no clues, 

Quinn

-

Hope you enjoyed! What do we think Tim's nickname should be? Should we pick one or are we liking the variety? Let me know!

Check out the other chapters on my ao3, here!

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You've got Mail

Chapter 2: Introductions - Tim

Ch. 1

Hey Quinn,

I'm gonna be honest, I completely forgot that I put my info on that site. I'm not even sure how you found it because it must have been years old. Suffice to say, your letter was a bit of a surprise. Not that I'm complaining! It actually came at the perfect time. Oddly enough, I also just graduated and am planning on going to Gotham University in the fall. We can be buddies!

Besides, it's nice to hear from someone who isn't one of my brothers. They have a unique ability to pester the living hell out of me and I'm running out of non-relations to talk to.

So, official new best friend, I guess I should tell you a bit more about me too. I’m doing a double major in business and computer science at GU. A bit less noble than your career, sadly, but I’m mostly just doing it to help - Bruce - my father (it’s complicated) with his business. He doesn’t want to run it forever and I’m the only one of my brothers with any real interest in running a company. If I’m being honest though, I'd much rather just focus on the computer side of things and do something fun. Your video game sounds awesome and I seriously hope you'll let me play it one day.

I can also relate to your whole only child thing. Back in the day I was technically an only child too. Well, for the first half of my life at least. It's a really long, kinda traumatic story so I won't bore you with the details. But overall I get it. You don't have to worry about stereotypes here, just be yourself!

On to the questions!

Q: Why are you looking for a pen pal?

A: Well like I said, I actually forgot that I put my info on that website. It was so long ago, I think it was before I was even adopted. I probably did it because I wanted a friend, or at least someone to talk to. My childhood was, in a word, really lonely. I was a bit naive and probably hoped that by writing to someone I could fill some of that gap and find someone to connect with. (is this too emo? This might be too emo.) Anyway, back to the present. Now I’m just excited about the idea of starting school with a new friend - You're totally right about the ice breaker thing btw, we're going to have an awesome story. My other friends either live far away or are also going to out of state schools. How dare they abandon us like that?

Q: What are your interests?

A: I'll take your word for it about the questions, I don't even remember my login for the website to check. I promise I won't tell you how incredibly handsome and charming I am in real life, lol. (Can you say lol in a letter? I’m gonna do it anyway). Anyway, interests. Well, I kinda hinted that I'm a computer nerd already. My brothers would tell you that I constantly have my head in my laptop, which may or may not be true. I wish I was more of a reader like you, but I think that gene skipped me. I don't have the patience to sit still for that long. Other than that, I'd say I like finding new ways to be active. So far I've tried three types of martial arts, gymnastics, and yoga. I tried running once and immediately ended that. It's an awful hobby, 0/10 do not recommend. And last, but probably most important, would have to be coffee. I think my body has adapted to absorb it into my bloodstream. I might actually need it for my continued survival. If you ever need a recommendation for a cafe in Gotham, let me know though. I’m pretty sure I've tried them all at this point.

Q: If you could have any superpower what would it be?

A: I love your answer, but I have SO many logistical questions. Like, would you still age if time slowed? Are other people aware of the change in time? Do you stop it locally or everywhere at the same time? I feel like research needs to be done about this. I could write a whole paper on it. (sorry, nerd, remember?) As for me, I actually have two answers. The fake answer that I usually tell people is flying. You'd be surprised how much this question actually comes up in my life.I usually say that it would be so fun to fly like Superman and get everywhere faster and blah, blah, blah. But my real answer - since we're being honest with each other here - is that I think powers are overrated. I mean just look at Batman and Robin, they get along just fine without any supernatural help. Heroes like them show their strength through their training and dedication. That's the real power.

Ew, cringe, I just read that back and it sounded so lame. I'd rewrite it but I'm actually out of paper - the truth it is. I kind of went through a big superhero phase when I was younger - I guess it’ll never stop following me. If my brother Jason ever saw this I would never live it down.

I'm also incredibly sorry for my handwriting, it will be a miracle if you can read at least half of this. Surprise surprise, I usually tend to stick to keyboards. Maybe in the future we can email? It would be faster and maybe I'd be able to delete some of the cringy stuff I write without having to start the whole letter over again (which I definitely didn't do at least twice).

Alright bestie, it's been real. I have a parting question before I go though and I need you to really think about it because it WILL impact how I view you as a person.

Pineapple on pizza? Yes or no?

REMEMBER, you will be judged.

Hope to hear from you soon, Quinny!

Peace, Love, and Fairy Dust,

Tim

—

More chapters to come! Hope you enjoyed <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63916768/chapters/163934953

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

You’ve Got Mail

Summary: Quinn is starting her first year at Gotham University and shes feeling... lonely. All her friends are going to out of state schools and shes trying to be brave about it. It couldn't hurt to try out an anonymous pen pal matching site, right?

DCU - Batman AU

Tim Drake/Original Female Character

Chapter 1: Introductions (Quinn)

Hey,

I’m not really sure how to write one of these. It's the first time I’m actually trying to write a letter to someone on paper. Isn't that sad? A full grown adult (well almost) but I’ve never written someone an actual letter. I mean, I got letters from my grandma in the mail all the time, but I could never actually read them. Old people and their cursive, am I right? But, anyway, I guess I should introduce myself. Hi, I'm Quinn.

My friends actually call me Quinny or Q and since we're gonna be chatting (hopefully), you can call me that too. I just finished high school, starting college at Gotham U in the fall. I'm hoping to study nursing, god knows we need more of those in this town. What about you? Are you starting school soon?

I wasn’t born here, well in Gotham I mean. Mom and I moved here when I was 10 from Metropolis. She said we needed a fresh start, whatever that means. To me it meant leaving behind all of my friends and starting over. I'm not sure if you're aware, but that's really challenging for a small child, especially for someone as awkward as I am. Plus, I'm an only child so I had no siblings to help either. But I promise I'm not anything like those “annoying only child” stereotypes. I did in fact learn how to share from a young age, and not everything needs to be about me all the time. In fact, most of the time I wish I never had to talk about myself. (yes I do in fact see the irony).

The website gave some starter questions so I'm gonna try some of those, I guess. I'll answer first and then you can answer them too (if you want).

Q: Why are you looking for a pen pal?

A: Oh well that's actually a great question, maybe I should have started the letter out like that. Too late, I don't want to waste paper. But anyway, I am what popular television shows (and my mother) call a loner. Which is so untrue, I have at least three friends! But, I guess, since my friends are all moving away for college, I was hoping to connect with someone else and make a fourth friend. (no pressure). It'll at least get my mother off my back, and who knows, maybe we could be at the same school. It would be nice going into the first day knowing I wont be completely alone.

Q: What are your interests?

A: Why do some of these sound like dating questions? “What do you look like? What are you looking for in a pen pal?” ew. I feel like this one is at least relevant. I have a few hobbies and interests, but I guess the thing that I gravitate towards most is reading. I may have a book buying addiction and at least four reading related apps on my phone. So far this year I’ve read 20 books, and yes I know it's only March. Don’t judge. I am also a computer geek and like coding or programming. I'm actually working on making my own game right now. No I won't tell you what it's about, it's still a work in progress. BUT, if you're lucky, and I like you, then maybe you can be a beta player when it's done. Well I mean, if you like video games. Do you like video games?

Q: If you could have any superpower what would it be?

A: We can end on a fun one. If I could have any power I think it would be something with time. I'd like to be able to control it, or at least slow it down. It would really help me finish books before I have to get up in the morning. Plus, I think time sometimes goes too fast and I miss out on things I could be doing or important moments in my life. Imagine all the things you could get done if you just had a few more hours each day. Maybe I would even go to the gym (lol not really).

So, yeah. I'm sorry if this was awkward or rambly, but I do actually hope you respond. I think it could be fun to get to know a stranger and maybe talk more. Besides, wouldn't this make such a cool story, making a friend on a random pen pal website? We would have the best answer for any ice breaker.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Toodles,

Quinn

—

More chapters to come! Hope you enjoyed <3

[mytardisiscoolerthanyours]

Jk yall its back 🫡

Why does it go down the SECOND I decide to sit down and enjoy my enrichment time? 😭