(This chapter was re-written and updated as of 3/17/2014. All later chapters will also be updated before a new chapter is posted)

Pre-Reboot. A 'what-if' scenario, pre-Red Robin.

For purposes of this story, Stephanie, Bart, and Conner stayed dead. The fate of Bruce in this fic is to be determined.

Story contains slash. If that's not up your alley, turn the bike around and up the throttle.

PAIRINGS: Jay/Tim is the primary ship. Others include: Dick/Babs, Joker/Harley (one-sided), Bru/Jay (one-sided), Bruce/Selena, mentions of past slight Conner/Tim, past Tim/Steph, and past Jason/Talia. In the future will feature Damian/Scarlet, Pamela/Harley, and Roy/Jade (this ship and these characters are altered for this universe).

Rated M for: strong language, sexual situations, violence, murder, and self-mutilation. (But with Jason as a main character, this should be a given, lol)

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thunder cracked in the distance and the sky lit up with glittering sparks as the rain steadily fell in sheets upon the city. The sirens blared, echoing through the darkness, forever the constant wailing tune of Gotham. Really, it was a night typical in the broken city.

He drew in a sharp ragged breath, and released it shakily, watching as his breath frosted in the chilly air.

Civilians flitted through the streets below as the business men and women scuttled to the safety of their cars or taxis to return to their homes for the night. Likewise, those who were unfortunate enough to not have a ride on this dreary night ran with their jackets over their heads or umbrellas held high. As always, in a city with such a dark underworld as Gotham, not even the rain could wash away the filth. Slowly but surely, the night life sprang into action. He watched as women, scantily clad, congregated together on the street corners below. They huddled together for warmth, in effort to not catch their deaths in the low temperature of this stormy night. The rata-tat-tat of an automatic firearm sounded in the distance, followed by a vehicle veering off the road. He watched as a streetlight four streets down flickered with resistance before burning out altogether and crashing to the ground. Atop the building he stood upon, he watched with tired eyes as a drug deal went down with no hesitation, no interruption, even as a GCPD squad car rolled past. On any normal night, he would be right in the middle of the nighttime chaos. He would be rushing in praying for survivors in the drive by wreck. He would be urging the women indoors, offering them safety at a shelter. He would be wrangling up the dealers and confiscating their goods to keep it off the streets.

But not tonight.

Not now.

He sunk to the ground, braced against the stairwell door atop the eight story hotel building, drawing his knees up to his chest. His heart raced, throat clenching, as he buried his face in his soaked denim clad knees. His breath quickened and he clenched his arms tightly as he willed his nerve to return. He was cold. Freezing. Dressed in nothing but a hooded sweatshirt, t-shirt, and jeans. Civilian attire. Nothing to keep the rain off his skin or the heat within his body trapped beneath the threads.

He could not go back.

He would not go back.

He had officially hit an all-time low. He had lost everything, seemingly all at once. A father- twice… Stephanie… Bart… Conner… and now his home, his family, and his life.

His brother– he hissed at the thought – had taken away the last shred of hope he had. Taken away the only thing he had left, the only thing holding him together amidst the chaos that had erupted without fail time after time around him. He had taken away the only thing that reminded him that everything had all been real. That they had been real.

The thunder crashed directly above, causing him to flinch, and wrap his arms even more tightly around himself. The rain showed no signs of letting up, at least not for several hours, and the chill was becoming unbearable. He blinked lazily as he glanced out at the city once more.

He regretted it instantly.

The hurt and yearning hit him just as hard as the car had hit the light post earlier. The Bat-signal glowed bright against the night sky and rain clouds. Surely they would come soaring through the night in the next few moments with hopes of preventing whatever disaster that the Commissioner had been presented with. A whine reached his throat, and he clenched at it to stop it from escaping. He dug his nails in, urging the pain to become a distraction.

He did not want to see them.

He did not want to see Dick. Did not want to see the 'brother' that had discarded him after everything. Did not want to see the man that replaced him without a second glance. Replaced him with a child more lethal than most of Gotham's worst. Replaced him with the boy that had made an attempt on his life because he was not 'worthy' of being Bruce's son… of being Robin… He surely did not want to see the smug satisfied smirk upon the boy's face at having won, and of course, he did not want to face the consequences of being found.

He pulled himself up from his heap upon the ground, clothes heavy, wet, and clinging to his body as he pressed himself against the door. He fumbled with the lock briefly before the door made a soft click, and he wrenched it open, feeling the rush of warmth course across his face. The door snapped shut behind him with a dull thud, and he shivered as the heat made a small effort to ease the shock of cold wet cloth clinging heavily to his skin. He trudged across the tacky carpet the hall had to offer, settling himself in a far corner, with hopes that he would be shielded from prying eyes at least until morning. He had no urge to be caught sneaking a free night in the shelter of the hotel, away from the bone chilling storm, and he hoped that the rain brought the night guard other worries that would keep him away from the top floor. At least for now.

Sleep would not come. This he knew. But here he would be warm. Safe from outside world, hidden from view, and shielded from the sight of the bat lighting up the dreary night sky.