Jason was not having a good morning (night? It was three AM and he didn't really care anymore). All he'd wanted was some time alone. He deserved that, right? It had been a few days since he'd arrived in the manor and he was already done.

Bruce had attacked him several times. He'd been mauled by a werewolf. Dick kept trying to corner him and Jason was sure that he was going to try to force out some kind of explanation. He'd had to go through the torture of having to explain the supernatural twice. Charlie, Kevin and Cas were now here and, although he loved them all to death, it added to the ever-growing list of things he was going to have to explain. He longed for the Bunker – Gotham was cold and dark and miserable and just made him even more homesick.

He was stressed and hungover and tired. He wanted some peace and a pack of cigarettes. That was it.

But, apparently, he hadn't suffered enough for Fate's liking. Cas had gone to talk to Talia an hour or so after Charlie and Kevin had arrived and the two of them had gone to sleep hours ago, but clearly, no one else had. Since Jason hadn't been able to find an unlocked and empty room. Emphasis on empty.

Charlie had insisted on staying in Jason's room, which he honestly didn't really mind, but it meant that he had to go somewhere else.

Bruce was in the library, and Jason would rather die (again) than go in there – he'd also refused to let Jason into the Batcave and Jason didn't particularly want to be beaten up again.

Dick was in the kitchen, doing god-knows what to Alfie's poor waffle maker, and Jason was also trying to avoid Dick, so he couldn't go in there.

Barbara was in the living room, going through cases. Jason actually went in there and sat with her for a while. She didn't say anything when he came in, but she started reading the case files aloud when he sat next to her. He left after an hour or so – to leave her to work in peace.

After doing some more wandering, he found Damian in the middle of the ballroom, playing the violin. He was actually really good.

He looked up when Jason walked in, scowling slightly, but never said anything nor ever stopped playing. Jason sat by the door and listened. Damian only occasionally glanced up at Jason, who would flash a small smile at him. Jason left after he felt that he was overstaying his welcome and he wandered through the corridors, lit cigarette in mouth. Until Alfred told him not to smoke in the manor.

He was on the roof now.

It was cold and wet, but he could see the stars, and god, he couldn't remember the last time he'd really looked at them.

He used to come up here all the time when he was younger - after patrols, when he was too pumped up on his own adrenaline to sleep. He was almost certain that both Bruce and Alfred knew when he was up here, but neither ever mentioned it to him.

Wayne Manor was eight stories tall, plus the attic (and the Batcave) and from up here, he could just see the tops of the skyscrapers in the centre of Gotham. It was peaceful and it gave him somewhere to go and think about whatever it was that thirteen-year-old Jason Todd thought about. Shakespeare, probably.

Sometimes, he'd stay there long enough to see the sunrise over the skyline, bathing all of Gotham in a golden light. And, for once, the city looked beautiful, pure even.

Maybe he'd be able to see it this time.

He shifted, tensing as he felt the tiles move slightly beneath him. It was raining, lighter than it had been before, but still heavily enough for him to be covered in a fine mist. He also wished that he'd had enough sense to bring his jacket up with him, but, alas, he was too stubborn to bring it then and he was too stubborn to do so now.

"Hey, Tim," Dick said, stepping out of the elevator.

"Hey, Dick," he replied, glancing back. "What's up?"

"You wouldn't be able to check the security feeds, would you?" he said. "Jason's kinda gone missing."

Tim pulled up the feeds on the monitor. "Maybe he's avoiding you," Tim muttered, smiling when Dick, always the drama queen, gasped daintily.

"What? Why would he be avoiding me?" Dick said, only half-jokingly.

"You've pretty much been following him around like a lost puppy since he got here."

"Yeah, because Bruce told me to keep an eye on him."

"I think Bruce meant discretely. You've basically been stalking him," Tim laughed, flicking through each camera. "Got him. He's on the roof."

Jason was sat by the chimney with what looked to be a cigarette in his hand. Dick went to leave, but Tim stopped him. "Maybe, I should go talk to him."

"Yeah, that's- that's probably a good idea. I don't think he'd be too happy to see me," Dick said with a smile that faltered slightly and he sighed. "I just want to be a good brother, Tim. I messed up with him last time. I pushed him away because I was angry and upset."

Dick started pacing and Tim sat back down. This was important. For Dick, at least.

"I didn't think of him as my brother – I didn't even try to get to know him. Then he died, and everyone started talking about how bright and sweet and funny he was. Jason- Jason was great kid and I took my frustration with Bruce out on him. I said things to him, about him, that he didn't deserve," he continued. "I mean, sure, he said and did plenty of things back, but he was a kid and he'd been through things that no kid should ever have to go through. He was homeless, Tim. He was homeless for two years. Did you know that?"

Tim nodded. He did – he'd read Jason's file countless times.

"I know that- I watched my parents die, Tim, but I knew that they loved me and I never went without a roof over my head and food on the table, even after they… I've seen Gotham, Tim, and I can't even describe how bad it is out there. It's ugly and cruel and I can't imagine what it would be like, having to live on the streets, alone. But Jason- Jason doesn't have to imagine." Dick threw his hands up into the air. "I should have been there for him, Tim. He should have been able to talk to me about all of that. Who else was going to emotionally support him? Bruce? I left him, Tim. I left him to deal with all this. Sometimes I think that if I had been there for him, he might have told me about Sheila and I could have…"

Dick went silent, his hands and breath shaky.

"I-" There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes. "I don't think that I've ever regretted anything more. I just want to make it up to him."

"And you will. In time." Tim rested his hand on Dick's shoulder. "You're a great brother, Dick. But, you can come on a little… strong sometimes and Jason just isn't used to seeing that side of you yet. Just give him some time and some space."

"But he doesn't want-"

"He does want you around," Tim said. Dick looked at him. "He hasn't told you to go screw yourself yet, and Jason clearly isn't afraid to say what he thinks."

Dick laughed weakly. "Yeah, Jason always had a way with words."

Both of them thought back to yesterday morning, when Bruce had lunged at Jason who, out of either fear or shock or perhaps both, called Bruce a 'big, dumb furry. He then continued his little speech from atop the kitchen counter, despite Alfred's protests.

They grinned. "Thanks, Tim."

Jason stubbed out his cigarette on one of the rooftiles. He heard the window creek open behind him, but ignored it. He stuck another one in his mouth and lit it bitterly. Goddammit. Dick had found him.

"Those'll kill you, you know." That… wasn't Dick. That… that was Tim. Jason wasn't quite sure he was happy about that. Relieved? Slightly. Happy? Okay, maybe a little.

From what Jason managed to pluck from his drunken memory of that one night he'd actually talked to Tim, he was alright – insightful, a little quiet maybe, but that was honestly what Jason needed right now. He was also debating whether he should mention how cliché that line was and he was leaning towards 'yes,' but subtly. Suavely.

"Oh, is that right, Shakespeare?" Jason Subtle Peter Todd.

Luckily, Tim laughed quietly, unoffended, and clambered up the rooftop. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Jason thought and, for a moment, Tim thought he was going say no and he was honestly more relieved than he'd like to admit when Jason shrugged. "Eh, why not? Brooding was never really my thing, anyhow."

Tim slowly (and very, very gracefully, thank you very much) sat down and he definitely did not squeak and grab Jason's shoulder when he slipped on a wet tile. Jason held Tim's arm and helped him, grinning and laughing under his breath as he did.

"Smooth. Very smooth," he said once Tim finally sat down.

"Yeah, well, it's wet and cold.," Tim muttered, staring at Jason, in his rain-soaked t-shirt and jeans with his hair slicked with water. "How are you not cold? I've been up here for two minutes and I feel like I'm to develop hypothermia."

"Eh, it's not that bad," Jason mumbled, knowing full well that this was one of the biggest lies that he had ever told. He was freezing, and his fingers and toes had gone numb an hour ago.

Tim also did not seem convinced of this, pressing the back of his hand to Jason's face and almost immediately recoiling in disgust. "You're so cold – how are you actually not dead?"

Jason swatted away Tim's hand. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Tim said. "You're like dead body cold. It's not natural."

"That's not an entirely inaccurate statement."

Tim's face went blank for a moment. You're an idiot, Tim, he thought. Jason was DEAD. He probably doesn't want you reminding him.

His mind continued to collapse into the downward spiral of thinking that his hero was going to hate him and how he had essentially destroyed any chance of friendship. "Oh my god," he blurted out. "I am so sorry. I should have-"

Jason held up his hand up and Tim stopped, biting his lip and waiting for Jason to tell him to go. "It's okay." Tim's expression wasn't unlike a fish being held out of water. "My death isn't really a sensitive topic," Jason took a deep breath, "well, the fact that I was dead isn't, anyway. Death's not that bad, really."

Tim stared at him. "Don't get me wrong," he continued, "dying sucks ass, but being dead isn't all that bad. It's kind of nice, actually."

"Do you…" Tim began, his hands shaking slightly. Was this going to be too intrusive? "Do you miss it? Being dead?"

Jason's smile faded and Tim's heart sank. For a moment, Jason sat there, wringing his hands together, his expression pensive. "I did," he mumbled, frowning slightly. "But I don't anymore."

There was a certainty in Jason's voice that Tim was sure wasn't for him.