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Jason Todd is pretty sure he’s been kidnapped by the Batman.
It starts like this:
Jason is dumpster diving for trinkets to pawn off or food that’s only just barely expired. Jason sees a big black shiny car with expensive looking tires and has a great idea. Jason gets jumped by the Batman, who looms over him and asks him stupid questions like where do you live? and do your parents know you’re out? Jason panics, hits the Batman with the tire iron, and bolts.
Two days later, Bruce Fucking Wayne shows up at his house all like oh, the Batman sent me, you know, the Batman that I’m good friends with, he wants me to help you, which yeah, okay. Jason’s not stupid. This is obviously “Bruce Wayne’s” long term plan to punish Jason brutally for trying to steal his tires.
Wayne Manor may seem nice and warm with plenty of food and clothes and first edition copies of Northanger Abbey, but Jason knows it’s just a trap. The Batman is trying to lure him into a false security before he sucks Jason’s blood or whatever it is he does with the kids he’s kidnapped. Well, Mr. Batman, sir, Jason’s not falling for it. Jason is a Crime Alley kid through and through, and when a Crime Alley kid gets cornered, they come out swinging.
Or, in Jason’s case, they bust open the window on a Friday night and take off running.
He has a plan. It’s a really good one. Jimmy open the window, run really fast to that big, empty house next door, break in, steal some food, clothes, money, whatever, and go back home with a hell of a survival story. He might have to change his name so Batman doesn’t get him, but that’s fine. He’s always thought he’d make a good Henry.
The first part of his plan goes swimmingly. He doesn’t get lost or trip and Batman doesn’t pop out of the shadows and eat him. When he breaks the window to the big house, the alarm doesn’t even go off. Fucking rich people, man.
The plan is going great up until Jason turns around the corner and almost gets hit by a kid with a baseball bat.
The kid stares at him. Jason stares back.
“Um,” Jason says. “Give me all your money.”
The kid narrows his eyes. He's wearing mismatched, too big pajamas that make him look smaller and younger than he probably is, but he holds the bat like he really would hit Jason if he needed to. “You’re just a kid.”
Jason scoffs. “Uh, says the eight year old.”
“I'm ten,” the kid says scornfully, looking Jason up and down. “Who are you?”
He seems surprisingly blasé about teenagers breaking into his house, which is good because it gives Jason time to consider his options.
One, beat the ten-year-old up. Not happening, Jason would feel bad and the kid looks scrappy anyway. Two, bolt and hope he doesn’t follow. A possibility, except Jason really needs that money. Three, play to that universal rich people pity gene and get the kid on his side.
Jason was Orphan #3 in his sixth grade production of Oliver Twist. He can make this work.
“My name is Jason Todd,” he starts, mournfully. He can save the alias for later. “I was kidnapped by Bruce Wayne, who is actually Batman, and he wants to eat me. I need your help to escape back home and start a new life.”
The kid tilts his head. “How do you know Bruce Wayne is Batman?”
Jason loses his poor orphan persona pretty fast. “That's your big takeaway?” The tone registers a second later. “Wait, did you know Bruce was Batman?”
“Uh, yeah,” the kid says, like it’s obvious. “I've known since I was nine.”
“Wow,” Jason drawls sarcastically, trying and failing not to sound impressed. “Very cool.”
The child prodigy lowers his bat, which is pretty stupid. Jason could still jump him. But he’ll admit, he’s very curious about this kid who doesn’t care about people breaking into his house and knows who Batman is.
“You know what?” the kid says, echoing his thoughts. “Maybe we should talk.”
The kid’s name is Timothy Jackson Drake, because for some reason he introduces himself with his full name, but he tells Jason to just call him Tim. Tim figured out the secret through some flip Robin did, sometimes he follows Batman around and takes pictures, and his parents are in Tahiti. He thinks.
“What, you’re not sure?” Jason asks, more concerned than he has any right to be.
Tim shovels ice cream into his mouth and unsubtly avoids the question.
He's a very weird kid, Timothy Jackson Drake. He's a stalker, his house is disgustingly large, and he has even less self preservation than Jason. Despite all this, Jason kind of likes him.
In return, Jason pours out his own sad tale. He glosses over a lot of the rougher parts, but he tells the part with the Batmobile in full detail because, well. It's kinda cool.
Tim’s blue eyes are blown wide. “You hit him?”
“He was freaking me out,” Jason says defensively. “Although I guess I shouldn't have, because now he wants to eat me.”
“I don't think he wants to eat you,” Tim says. Jason is about to fire back with, what, and you’re the Batman expert before he remembers that time arguably is the Batman expert. “It sounds like he was just trying to help.”
Jason scoffs. “I don't need help. I can take care of myself all on my own.” Tim looks offensively skeptical, so Jason tries a different tack. “Alright, you seem like a pretty independent kid. How would you feel if Bruce fucking Wayne showed up at your door and insisted you get into his car because he and the state of New Jersey just don’t think you can handle it?”
Tim’s expression shifts into something pinched. “Well, I've got—“ he gestures to the room around him. “The house and stuff.”
“Tell that to Batman,” Jason says darkly. “I had a house too. I'd lived there my whole life.”
Most of the memories he had in that house were very, very bad, but they had been his, and that's what counted. Bruce Wayne had taken that away because his poor, rich white man conscience just couldn’t handle another dirty orphan kid clogging up the streets or something.
Tim finally seems to be grasping the gravity of Jason’s situation. “You don’t think—is he gonna get me too?”
“You still have parents,” Jason points out. “Even if they are in Tijuana.”
“Tahiti,” Tim corrects. “But I don’t have a babysitter or a nanny or anything.” A look of horror dawns. “What if Batman hires a babysitter and she doesn’t let me go out and take pictures?”
Privately, Jason thinks this isn’t a half bad idea, but he needs Tim on his side. “How awful. How terrible. Batman just doesn’t understand kids.”
“I guess not,” Tim says distantly. Never meet your heroes, Jason thinks. They always turn out to be kidnappers who dress up as bats and fight crime.
Jason pushes aside his empty bowl of ice cream so he can look Tim dead in the eyes. “Timothy Jackson Drake,” he says soulfully. “I need your help to escape the clutches of the Batman so I can live my life in honor of latchkey kids everywhere. Will you help me?”
Tim looks like he’s considering it, he really does. Puts his chin in his hands and frowns down at the counter. Jason waits and tries not to twitch too much.
Finally, Tim leans forward. “Okay.” Jason allows himself a single fist pump of victory. “Here’s what we’re going to do—“
Before Tim can speak the plan that will save Jason’s life into existence, there is a harsh, deliberate knock on the door. Both Tim and Jason freeze.
“Were you—“ Jason squeaks out. “Expecting anyone?”
“No,” Tim says, paler than ever. He slips out of his chair and pads over to a tablet with various security feeds. He presses a few buttons and goes even paler. “Darn it.”
Jason goes to peer over his shoulder. “Fuck.”
It's the Batman, almost indiscernible in the shadows, looming larger than life and looking very, very annoyed. As Jason and Tim watch, he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Jason Todd. I know you’re in there.”
Tim turns to Jason with wide, terrified eyes. “You were right. He is going to eat you.”
“I'm always right,” Jason says numbly. He grabs onto Tim’s arm. “Tim, what do I do?”
“Go out the way you came,” Tim says immediately. “Hide in the backyard. I'll tell him to go away and then I'll come back and get you.”
He’s very brave, Jason thinks with a sudden burst of fondness. If they both don’t get eaten, he’d like to be friends. He grips Tim by the shoulders and says, “Don’t die.”
Tim nods solemnly. There's no more time to exchange pleasantries. Batman is knocking again, Tim heads towards the door, and Jason bolts back the way he came.
Maybe he can come around the front and ambush Batman from behind. He's not going to leave Tim alone, that’s for sure. Independent kiddos gotta stick together, even if one of them is super rich and the other one is dirt poor. The bonds of functional orphan-ism transcends class divides.
Jason is pondering this as he climbs back out the busted window when lithe but surprisingly strong hands grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him upwards. He finds himself face to face with a black domino mask and a wide, shit-eating grin.
“Well, well, well,” the newcomer says. “You must be Jason Todd.”
Jason kicks out at the family jewels, but his legs are too short and the man’s grip is too long. “Lemme go! Lemme go—“
“B told me you might try to make a getaway,” the man continues on. Jason starts working out of his jacket as he blabs. “I’ve gotta say, it’s a honor to meet the new hey—“
Jason successfully worms out of his jacket, drops to the ground and starts running. He doesn’t get very far. Domino Guy is fast, tackling Jason to the ground hard. Jason squirms, snaps his teeth at Domino’s hands.
“I knew I should have gotten my rabies shots updated,” he mutters. At this angle, Jason can clearly see a vaguely familiar blue symbol on his chest. It’s that Blüdhaven guy. Blue Bat? Nightbat? Nightbird? Whatever. “Would you hold still—“
He's smarter than he looks, because he doesn’t let his hands get near Jason’s mouth again. He's also still stronger than he looks, which is bad for Jason because it means he’s thrown over Blue Guy’s shoulder like it’s nothing.
“You’re really skinny,” Blue Guy says, sounding vaguely concerned. Jason thrashes. “I can see why B was so worried.”
“I can handle myself,” Jason snaps furiously.
Blue Guy just snorts. “Yeah, I can see that too.”
This appeases Jason enough that he stops struggling. As much. He’s going to turn their own tricks back on them. Lull them into a sense of false security before he starts biting again.
Blue Guy rounds the corner to the front. Jason twists just enough to see Tim and Batman, locked in a very intense staredown.
“I don't know who this Jason character is,” Tim says stubbornly.
“Where,” Batman intones. “Are your parents—“
“Found the slippery one, Batman!” Blue Guy says cheerily. He dumps Jason on the ground. “He bit me. I like him. Who’s this?”
“This,” Batman says, gesturing to Tim, who stares up at Blue Guy with stars in his eyes. “This is Tim Drake. He's pretty sure his parents are in Tahiti.”
“You’re Nightwing,” Tim breathes out.
“He's an ass,” Jason says, before Tim can get lost in hero worship. “He implied I had rabies.”
“Aw, little wing,” Nightwing says, sounding hurt. “I meant it as a compliment.”
“You—“ Tim shakes his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Blüdhaven?”
Nightwing shrugs. “Batman called for backup. Sounded pretty freaked out, said it was a family emergency.”
“He was worried because his dinner got away,” Jason mutters. He stumbles over to stand in front of Tim, drawing himself up to his full, meager height. “Well, guess what? You’re not going to eat me or Tim, because Tim has a plan. Right, bud?”
“The plan kind of relied on Batman not being here,” Tim whispers.
“It's okay,” Jason whispers back. “We'll improvise.”
Nightwing is making some very weird choking noises. Batman looks pained. “Jason,” he says slowly. “I'm not going to…eat you.”
Nightwing’s choking turns into a cackle. Jason glares. “And how am I supposed to believe you? You totally kidnapped me!”
“I, I mean, uh, Bruce Wayne, is your legal guardian,” Batman says. “He applied for emergency fostering under my recommendation after our…meeting. Nobody kidnapped you.” He turns his piercing gaze onto Tim, who shrinks back even further behind Jason. “And if Tim doesn’t have any guardians with him at this time, I might have to recommend it again.”
This infuriates Tim enough that he pulls himself back up. “I'm ten. I don't need a babysitter.”
“According to the state of New Jersey, you do,” Batman says. “I'm going to ask you both to get into the Batmobile.
Jason and Tim look at each other, and then back up at Batman. “No thanks,” they say, in unison.
Nightwing snickers. Batman sighs.
It takes twenty minutes for Batman and Nightwing to get them inside the car. Jason tries to run three times, Tim tries to run two, and when this fails, they try blackmail.
“We know who you are,” Tim says.
“And what you’ve done,” Jason adds, because it sounds cool.
Batman pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Would you please get in the goddamn car?”
Tim crosses his arms. “Why?”
Apparently, this is the last of his patience. “Because I'm Batman and I said so.”
Jason and Tim get in the goddamn car.
The drive up to Wayne Prison—sorry, manor—is only a mile, but Batman takes some long, winding route. Probably to try to throw them off the scent, even though it’s far too late for that. Nightwing keeps on looking back at Tim and Jason huddled together in the backseat and winking, which is not nearly as comforting as he thinks it is.
Batman pulls into the cave with a screech and a maneuver that sends Jason into the side of the door. “Seatbelts,” Nightwing says, for some reason. Batman grunts.
“Nightwing, I'm going to ask you to keep an eye on them,” he says. “I, um. I have to go get Bruce Wayne.”
Tim and Jason exchange incredulous looks. How stupid does he think they are?
“You got it!” Nightwing says cheerily.
Batman pauses, halfway out the door. “Don’t let them into the cave.”
“Of course not,” Nightwing says.
“I mean it,” Batman says. “This cave has a lot of very delicate equipment–”
“I know, I know,” Nightwing says, long-suffering. “Go get your best friend Brucie Wayne.”
Batman narrows his eyes, and for a moment Jason totally thinks Nightwing is going to get got. But he just grunts again, slinking off into the shadows. Nightwing watches them go, and then twists back.
“You guys know that he’s–”
“Duh,” Jason says.
“I figured it out when I was nine,” Tim says proudly.
Nightwing’s eyebrows shoot up past his mask. “That's impressive, baby bird.”
Tim makes a face. “I'm not a baby. And neither is Jason. We can take care of ourselves.”
“I lived by myself for three whole months after my mom–” Nightwing’s eyes swivel to him, suddenly piercing. Jason swallows. “Whatever. I didn't need Batman to kidnap me, is all.”
“And Mrs. Mac comes by two whole times a week,” Tim adds. “That's plenty of adult supervision.”
“I know this is really rich coming from the person who spent his childhood flipping around in tights,” Nightwing says. “But it’s super not. Batman’s doing what he can to help the two of you. Could he be less intense about it? Sure. Probably. But this is B we’re talking about. Guy doesn’t know how not to be intense.”
The twin doubt on Jason and Tim’s faces is loud and clear. Nightwing sighs.
“We can come back to that later,” he says. “Do you guys want a tour of the Batcave?”
Jason is against this on principle, but Tim isn’t, and Jason has vowed to himself that Tim will make it out of this alive. This means that he has to begrudgingly follow Tim and Nightwing around the Batcave and get close up looks at all the cool, complex gadgets. It’s whatever. Jason is chill about it.
Nightwing talks a lot, bouncing around from concerning stories about when he tried to climb up on this and that piece of equipment to pointed questions about Jason and Tim’s home lives.
“How long have your parents been gone?” he asks Tim at one point.
Tim has to think about it. “Since March, maybe?”
“Oh boy,” Nightwing says, and then thankfully moves on.
He asks Jason when the last time he went to school was, which Jason refuses to answer, and how long he and Tim have known each other.
“Forty-five minutes,” Jason says.
“He broke into my house,” Tim adds casually.
“I didn’t know he was in there,” Jason says. “But now I’ve got to make sure Batman doesn’t get him.” Tim rewards him with a tiny little smile.
“Wow,” Nightwing says softly, and then he’s rambling about the time he did a backflip off of the ledge and nearly gave Batman a heart attack. Kid had balls, Jason has to admit. Maybe they can all be friends or something, if they can break away from Batman’s thrall.
Speaking of Batman, Bruce Wayne comes down an elevator maybe twenty minutes later, stopping dead when he sees Jason, Tim, and Nightwing fighting with foam swords in the middle of the room.
Tim drops the sword immediately. Jason turns it towards Bruce. Nightwing waves.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose in a suspiciously Batman-like gesture. “Nightwing. I thought Batman told you to keep them in the car.”
“Relax, B,” Nightwing says. “They’re pretty smart kids, you know.” He unceremoniously pulls off his domino mask, ignoring Bruce’s sudden and loud cursing. “Hey, guys. It’s me.”
This might be more significant if Jason actually recognized the guy. “I don’t know who the fuck you are.”
“That's Dick Grayson,” Tim says. “You know, the circus one?”
Jason narrows his eyes. “The clown.”
“The acrobat,” Dick Grayson says, sounding offended.
Bruce is still cursing in the background. “Foster kids, they said. It’ll be rewarding, they said–” Tim looks at Jason guiltily. Jason shrugs.
“Do you need a moment in the shouting room?” Dick says sympathetically.
“No,” Bruce snaps. both Jason and Tim flinch, and he softens. “I–apologies. It's been a long night.” To Dick, “Did you tell them?”
Dick shrugs. “They figured it out all on their own.”
Tim mutters something indistinct about the Flying Graysons and quad flips, and Jason just says, “You weren’t very subtle, dude.”
This has the unfortunate side effect of bringing the whole of Bruce’s attention down on him. “Jason,” Bruce says. Jason fidgets. “You can’t run away like that. Not without letting an adult know where you’re going, and especially not in the middle of the night.”
It's so damned reasonable that Jason is immediately on edge. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have run away if you didn’t kidnap me–”
“I did not kidnap you,” Bruce says patiently. “I am your emergency foster guardian. It’s all legal and legitimate.”
“The law is a bunch of corrupt namby-pambies,” Jason says instinctively. “They might not think you kidnapped me, even though you did, but you definitely kidnapped Tim.”
Tim looks uncomfortably put on the spot. Bruce winces. “I could not, in good conscience, leave Tim in that situation. I've already reached out to his parents. Hopefully, we can get this resolved as soon as possible.”
“They don’t have access to a lot of communication stuff,” Tim says. “You probably won’t hear back from them for a while.”
Bruce raises an eyebrow. “How long is a while?”
“Uh,” Tim says, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. “It usually takes them, like, a week to respond to my emails? But they might get back to you quicker, because you’re more important.”
“Jesus, kid,” Jason mutters. If Bruce doesn’t kidnap Tim, Jason might have to kidnap him first.
“I see,” Bruce says, sounding like he doesn’t see at all. “Either way, you can stay here for the time being.”
“Do we have a choice?” Tim asks, looking up at Bruce carefully.
Bruce has the grace to look apologetic when he says, “No.”
Jason is a Crime Alley kid through and through, and a Crime Alley kid knows when to admit that they’ve lost the fight. How else are you going to get up to fight another day?
“Fine,” Jason says bitingly. “We’ll stay. You win. For now.”
Bruce breathes something like a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.”
Jason grabs Tim by the hand and says, in a voice that he hopes brooks no arguments. “Tim’s staying with me for the night to make sure you don’t eat us.”
“For the last time, I don’t eat–” Bruce seems to realize what he’s saying is ridiculous, and visibly gives up. “That's–fine.”
Dick is snickering again, ignoring Bruce’s glare. “I'll escort you guys up. Alfred made cookies and hot cocoa.”
Jason stumbles as Dick pushes the both of them towards the elevator. “He did?” He likes Alfred best out of anyone in Wayne manor–Alfred is the one who showed him around the library and directed him towards Anne Brontë, who he’s really enjoying so far–but he still didn’t think Alfred liked him enough to make him cookies at one in the morning,
“Well, yeah,” Dick says and then, slightly quieter so Bruce can’t hear. “They were pretty worried about you, little wing.”
“Oh,” Jason says, in vague astonishment. he glances back at Bruce, finds Bruce looking at them, something very soft and unreadable in his eyes, and then immediately looks away in embarrassment. “Sucks to be them, I guess.”
Dick snorts as he herds them into the elevator. The three of them fit pretty neatly. Tim is still holding onto Jason’s hand, Dick has a hand on both of their shoulders, and Batman turns back towards the computers, pulling up forms and files Jason can’t decipher.
“I don't know, though,” Jason says as the doors slide shut. “Maybe being kidnapped by Batman isn’t that bad.”