A/N: Well everyone, it's official. Summer has arrived! That hopefully means more updates, or at least more time to write. I make no concrete promises, but that is my plan. I've been working on this chapter on and off for a while, so hopefully it was worth the wait. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

There was only one solution to calming Jason's rage; keeping his distance from Tim.

He had no problem admitting that there was no part of him on board with his brother jumping back into crime fighting. The entire conversation he'd been trying to form a plan or some sort of reason to stop Tim from setting foot in the training ring. It had been such a good idea; he had been so sure that Tim wouldn't lay a hand on him. His jaw could attest to otherwise, since five days later it was still bruised and sore. The older man rubbed at the mark and made a grunt of displeasure as he wandered through the manor. Damn Tim and his determination.

His inner frustration about the whole situation had kept him away from the teen. Jason had chosen to go out more often, and even spent the second night at his apartment instead of the manor. Tim had called, Damian had sent him a rather rude text, and eventually Dick came to make sure he was alright. The oldest Robin had been able to coax Jason to come back to the manor, but he'd still tried to avoid Tim until the frustration faded. After three days the anger had settled into a cold bitterness, and he was fully aware that it was snapping at anyone who even tried to speak to him.

A lot of the young adult wanted to go straight to the cave and take back his word. He wanted to forbid Tim from training, to take the Red Robin suit and hide it away—burning it sounded more efficient. No part of him was convinced that Tim was miraculously healed, nor was he ready to start fighting again. He wanted proof, medical proof, solid proof, that the teen was actually capable of handling it. At the same time, he wanted to continue to put distance between Tim and himself for as long as possible. And yet, when Bruce had handed him a note that morning before leaving, Jason knew that distance was soon to be closed.

Figured out the basics of the drug. Check the computer if you want to know more. Jason had grit is teeth when he'd read that, and really just wanted Bruce to spill it to him out loud. If he was going to get answers, he'd have to go down into the cave.

No. No way.

He was avoiding Tim. Even as he walked towards the cave, shoving the note into his pocket, he was sure that he wanted to continue to do so.

Don't do it Jason.

If he saw Tim, he'd explode. The kid was so ridiculously frustrating. As he walked towards the entrance to their secret lair, he couldn't help but berate himself. This was so stupid; he could just demand that Bruce told him what was going on or ask Dick. As he descended the stairs that occurred to him as the best choice, and the least painful one.

Don't do it.

His feet left the steps and landed on solid ground. There was no longer the natural light, but an artificial glow hovering overhead. It didn't eliminate all of the shadows, no light ever could. The sound of bats moving restlessly up above only solidified that there was no turning back now. He was in the cave.

Of course, he wasn't alone either. Tim was reacquainting himself with his equipment, a thoughtful look on his face. The flush on his cheeks and his damp hair showed the signs that he had been training for a while, much to Jason's dismay. A glare made its way onto his features, but he tore his gaze away from the younger boy quickly. For once, he didn't come for a fight, and he wanted to keep it that way. All he needed was to get the information and then leave.

Without another glance in Tim's direction, Jason went over to the computer, sitting in the chair almost uneasily. It was strange that Bruce trusted him enough to even come near his precious technology, but he gave Jason the permission to actually use it. Then again, Bruce had codes over everything. Jason was only going to see what the Bat wanted him to know. So much for trust.

Shaking himself out of that dangerous thought process, Jason opened up the file that was already waiting for him to see. He sat stiffly, eyes scanning over the words carefully. His gaze narrowed, and he reread the document again, letting the words click in his head. Unable to really let them sink in, he went over it for a third time, then stared angrily at the screen until his vision blurred and started to hurt. Jason then blinked and fell back against the chair, his hands gripping the arm rests so tight he thought that they would snap off.

As far as Bruce had been able to determine, the toxin affected both physical and mental states. However it preyed upon the mental damage more, only worsening the physical state. Hallucinations, nightmares; they were all meant to worsen the physical affects. But Tim had gotten passed those attempts. He had recovered his strength slowly, and beat Scarecrow and his drug. So by all accounts and evidence that they had collected, it only meant one thing.

Tim was perfectly capable of becoming Red Robin once again.

It was a good thing, Jason knew that. His whole reason for staying in the manor was to make sure that Tim got back on his feet, that he made a full recovery. It was the first time in a long time that he actually did something good for one of his so called brothers. The proof on the screen was enough to say that he had been doing just what he had intended, and it had worked. Why then, when everything was getting so much better, did he feel so angry?

"So do you want to tell me again that I'm incapable of taking on the mask?" Tim's voice called to him, nonchalant in manner.

Oh, right. That was why.

Just don't respond. Jason continued to stare at the computer screen, acting as if he was totally unaware that the younger boy was speaking.

But it seemed that Tim had decided to be the instigator. "Everything lines up with my condition. So there really isn't any reason for me to stay out of the field."

Silence answered him as Jason closed the file, keeping his mouth shut. If he just stayed quiet, Tim would give up and leave him alone. Which, considering his current mood, was the teen's smartest move. Jason didn't exactly trust himself at the moment.

There was a stretch of continued silence, and then Tim sighed. "You know, I keep trying to make conversation, and the fact that you're ignoring and avoiding me doesn't make it any easier."

"You saw the report," Jason said while still facing the computer, and then mentally cursed. He couldn't ever listen to himself, could he?

"I helped make it," Tim replied. "It's my report. I know better than anyone what's going on with me."

"Then why don't you write up an explanation on why you've developed such a smartass attitude?" Jason whirled around, getting onto his feet and glaring at the younger boy. The chair shoved back behind him, rolling across the floor. Any patience that he had been willing himself to maintain evaporated in that instant, along with his desire to avoid Tim. Screw avoidance, conflict was better faced head on, and that was Jason's specialty.

Tim's expression flickered, and his voice lost its indifferent tone. "What's your problem? First you cut a deal with me to prove myself, and I do. Now suddenly when there's every piece of research on my side you choose to act like I don't even exist."

"Because I didn't think you'd actually do it," Jason said, his voice growling. He was not ashamed to admit it; in fact it was probably better to be honest than to pretend he really supported the teen.

The teen didn't look surprised. Tim just stared back with a hard, unbreakable expression. "You doubt me, a lot. All of you do."

"Don't blame us," Jason started, "You aren't—"

"Damian," Tim said, cutting off Jason. "I'm not Damian. I don't have his training or pain tolerance. I'm not Dick; I don't have his natural skill. And I'm not you, but that doesn't mean I can't bounce back from staggering odds either."

It was a low blow, and Jason clenched his jaw in order to withhold a nasty retort. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, and urged himself to hold his tongue. But Tim was so damn aggravating, so stubborn. Maybe that was the real problem Jason had with this whole ordeal and not the fact that Tim was getting back on his feet.

Tim turned away from the older man, walking away while saying, "Don't worry, I'm not replacing anybody. I'm taking back what's mine. Everything I've made for myself."

In his mind, Jason thought they had buried that hatchet a while ago. Now it felt like they were digging that hatchet out of the ground and using it to cut each other in half. Normally, Jason would have been able to shrug off the comment, knowing that Tim was just in a horrible mood. But this time his anger threw that idea out the window. He stalked over to the retreating teen and grabbed him roughly by the arm, yanking him back. "Don't drag my past into your problems, kid. After all the hours I've spent around this godforsaken manor, slaving after you, making sure you don't fall over and die from whatever the cause would be, you could at least act grateful!"

Tim tore himself away from his grip, taking a feral step backwards. His gaze became sharp and alert. "I am grateful! You just can't seem to let me get back on my feet! Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do!" Jason said, losing all control and let all his thoughts out. "But do you realize how much of a spoiled brat you're being? We're just looking out for your best interests, and yet you walk around here so freaking overconfident! You won't listen to reason, and I know damn well what the result of that will be. So fine, if you want to go back out there right this second and get yourself killed, I'm not stopping you. I'm done protecting your little Robin ass!"

His voice reverberated off the cave walls, sending that bats up above into a panicked frenzy. Tim stood, frozen in place, his hard gaze icy on Jason. And then, ever so slowly, his features softened into some sort of understanding. The moments passed, and Tim's face fell into realization. If Jason had been in the right mindset, he would have noticed these things. But his anger had descended on him like a fog, clouding any other train of thought. Roughly he brushed past Tim, heading up the stairs.

"Jason!" Tim called after him. "Wait!"

"Too late, kid," Jason said back, his voice solemn and cold, "I'm done."

He didn't hear if Tim said anything else. Jason stormed his way upstairs and left the manor, slamming the front door behind him.

Jason had almost forgotten what patrolling alone was like.

He hadn't done much of it thanks to being at the manor for so long, and it felt strangely nice to be on his own again. At least, he liked the opportunity to blow off some steam. Outside of the manor he felt like he could breathe and put all of his frustration aside, most of it caused by a certain stubborn hero. Not only that, but Bruce wasn't hanging over his head like some disappointed shadow. Though that was probably just how Jason was seeing it, as usual. Bruce had barely even corrected him in the time he'd spent under the Bat's roof. Maybe he actually had enjoyed Jason's presence after all. And, really, maybe Jason had gotten a little used to staying.

But whatever.

He liked patrol, and he liked his breathing space, and he certainly liked not having any distractions. As he peered down at the streets below, he could only imagine the criminals he'd finally be able to bring to justice after so long. He'd been away from the manor for a few days, and he had a lot of catching up to do. Which meant less sleep and more work, but that was fine. He needed to get back in the groove of these dark and depressing nights, anyways.

Jason straightened up, ready to move on when he heard feet touch down on the rooftop behind him. In seconds he'd yanked a gun from its holster and spun around, glaring behind his helmet. A slim figure stood at the other end of the roof, wearing worn jeans and a dark zip-up jacket. A hood was pulled over his face, and he casually lifted his arms up. "Can I talk before you shoot?"

"Please allow him to do so, Todd," Damian, dressed as Robin, said as he moved out from behind the figure. "I will already hear from Father about sneaking out, and I'd like to return with at least one good reason as to why."

The figure pulled his hood down, revealing Tim to be underneath. "I told you I'd take the blame."

"No matter," Damian replied, a smirk gracing his lips. "The moment you admitted to needing my help was enough payment."

Jason lowered his gun and put it back in its holster with an exasperated sigh. "What do you two want? I've got work to do."

Tim looked to the older man, almost warily, before finally saying. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that I was acting totally out of line."

"Like you always do," Damian cut in, sounding completely uninterested in the apology.

Tim sent him a glare before turning back to Jason. "You were just trying to keep me from making a mistake that I was too blind to see. I want to get back out in the field. And I was so ready to prove that I could do it again, that I could be myself again, that I didn't think anything else through. So I'm sorry, for everything."

The teen ran a hand through his hair, glancing to the rooftop. "I just…didn't want you to leave and have us be on bad terms."

Jason stood there, quietly taking it all in. He was still annoyed; his feelings never did fade very quickly. But holding grudges never got him to a good place. And, in truth, if someone tried to take the Red Hood identity from him…

It wouldn't go over very well.

He waited another minute, watching as Tim raised his eyes hesitantly back onto him. Beside the teen, Damian crossed his arms and blew out an impatient sigh, looking between the two. Before the kid could voice his opinion, Jason pulled off his helmet, holding it under his arm. "Fine. No feelings held against you."

Now it was time for Tim to look surprised. "Really?"

"Sure," Jason said, locking his gaze on the teen. "But you owe me. So I'll cut you a new deal."

Tim hesitated, but Damian looked slightly intrigued. "You realize how well that went before, Todd?"

Jason gestured to Tim, "I'll agree to letting you be Red Robin again. No objections, no comments. But you can't train by yourself."

"So who am I supposed to train with?" Tim asked.

"I'll be training you," Jason said, "and so will Damian."

At this, the current Robin grinned dangerously before reverting back to smirking up at the teen. Tim's lips pressed into a line, clearly wanting to object. But Jason knew Tim all too well. There was nothing stopping him from getting back into the hero gig. Even if that meant training with his ex-assassin brother who had not too long ago spent his days attempting to kill him, and with his older brother who had also tried to kill him.

But even with those facts, and possibilities, it wouldn't be enough to stop Tim.

He was stubborn, that was for sure.

"See you in the cave?" Tim finally asked, by ways of agreement.

Jason grinned, wickedly. "By the end of the week, you'll be calling it Hell."