AN: Helloooooo, my God it has been a long time. I'm sorry for that. I'm starting college and life has been some kind of hell the past several months. But, here is chapter eight. Again, I'm sorry, but I do hope you guys enjoy it! Please review and let me know what you think about this big threat and all that jazz! :)

Chapter Eight

"The Nest"

"As long as you behave yourself, Timothy, there won't be an issue."

"I know, Mom. I'll behave."

"You had better. This is a very important meeting for your father and I and we can't afford you to mess it up."

"Yes ma'am."

Tim flinched awake, eyes opening and his body going rigid. His mother's voice was ringing in his head, the sound of the dead woman's lips sending chills down his spine. He felt rather nauseous, just as his younger self had been when he heard that conversation in person. Not that it had been a scary conversation, he had them fairly often with his parents. It was just that every time they came into existence he managed to muck something up.

He shifted on the bed, looking over where Dick had slept the night before. Sure enough, the bed on that side was a mess, but his brother was nowhere to be found. Sighing, Tim pushed himself up on his elbows, glancing around the room until he focused on a tray on the table beside his bed.

There was a note…

Tim took it between his fingers, ignoring the food as he saw Alfred's writing scribbled onto the page. For such a neat man, his handwriting needed a real makeover.

Master Timothy,

I ran out for a moment to get some groceries and to run some errands. I've left your breakfast on your bedside table and there is lunch in the microwave for later. I will return around dinner. Please remember to take your painkillers, I've left them on the tray as well.

Sincerely, Alfred

Tim grinned and whispered, "Always so formal, Alfie."

The teen set aside the note, grabbing the painkillers from the tray before popping them in his mouth and chasing them down with orange juice. He was glad for them really, the pain returning to his ribs and the rest of his body. Once it was down, he took a bite of one of the waffles and laid back down on his bed, wanting to wait for the meds to kick in before he did much moving.

From the sound of it, he was alone in the manor and that made him somewhat relieved. They were finally allowing him to stay unsupervised after the accident. Not that he didn't appreciate their help, it was just a bit smothering at times to constantly have people looking out for him as if he was something broken.

Which he was broken. In all terms of the word he was very broken. But, at this point…Well, it was questionable whether or not he had a right to be a bat. He had gotten himself captured by Jason. He had done that. He had screwed that up. He had distracted Dick from his job. He had done a lot of stupid things.

It wasn't long before Tim felt the numbness of the painkiller begin to rest into his bones and he started slipping back into sleep. He had been sleeping so much, it just seemed he wanted more and more of it as of late. His body was healing of course, and this was one of the ways it did it.

Still.

His mind drifted and he was in a world of colors and flashes of pictures in his mind. A dream that wasn't a dream, because really, he wasn't asleep. He knew he wasn't. He could still hear the world outside. He could hear birds chirping and he could smell the smoke…

He could smell smoke.

What the…

Tim's eyes snapped open with that realization and he wondered a moment through his haze how long he had been sleeping. He sniffed hard into the air, his nose filling with what he had thought it was.

Burning.

Something had to be burning.

His mind thought for a moment maybe he had been sleeping longer than he assumed and possibly Alfred was cooking something and had left it on the stove for too long. But, that theory was immediately diminished.

Alfred never burned food.

Tim slowly crawled from the bed, holding himself up against the wall like he had done the night before when he had heard Bruce and Dick's loud arguing. He made his way to the door slowly before yanking it open, immediately beginning to cough from the flood of smoke that filled his lungs.

Damn it.

Tim didn't have time to think as he immediately went into autopilot. Get out of the house. It was something they had been taught in elementary school, though he had been caught in many fires as Robin, he wasn't Robin right now. Right now he was Tim and he was hurt and his ribs weren't allowing him to sprint and be the hero.

He needed to get out of the smoke.

Tim hurried as quickly as he could down the hall, keeping himself on the wall as he did so. When he made it to the large staircase, he found the first floor to be even more dense with the smoke. His body coughed, causing his chest to ache with pain as his broken and shattered ribs shift uncomfortably in his flesh.

He had to get out.

But, he tripped.

Tim was sent sprawling when he missed one of the steps in the middle of the staircase. To his surprise, the falls didn't hurt too badly. In fact, it made it easier to crawl, but instead of going to the front door, he immediately headed to the study.

He crawled his way to the familiar room before opening the bookcase that led down to the cave. He stumbled down those stairs on his hands and knees as well before he made it to the ground floor of the cave, coughing to catch his breath. The cave was clear of smoke, however, he could still smell it through his charred nose and clothing.

The first thing Tim processed was the fact that there were several empty containers of gasoline littering the floor…

The next thing Tim processed was that he wasn't alone.

Standing several feet away from him were three people. One was a woman; whom Tim knew to be Starfire from many pictures of Dick's former days with the Titans. The other…Roy? But, not Roy. He wasn't as built as the Roy Tim knew and immediately he realized this Roy had to be Original Roy.

And then…Jason. Unmasked. Standing there, with a smirk on his face. Jason Todd.

Tim's mind was swimming as Jason approached him, causing the boy to slide away from the elder on his bottom. Tim stared up with wide blue eyes as memories of the night of the explosion tore into his head and clouded his thought processes.

"Don't panic, Tim. Assess the situation. Figure a way out."

Bruce's voice from his early days as Robin filtered in, but it was useless. He couldn't think. There was no considering. There was no going over a plan of escape. This was here and now, and the guy who had almost murdered him was coming towards him with animal like steps and Tim wanted to scream.

So scream he did.

"Get the hell back!" Tim shouted and Jason actually looked slightly surprised by the outburst. Tim stumbled to his feet, moving backward towards the stairs that he knew he had no chance of fleeing up. He held out a hand and continued, "Get away!"

Jason chuckled and Tim couldn't help but think he was facing a psycho. The man put a hand on his chest and glanced back at his friends before saying, "Wow, kid. I'm offended. Am I really so scary?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Tim ground out, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Jason tilted his head and pulled his gun from the holster before pointing it at Tim. Tim had to fight down the urge to move backward away from him. However, he stood his ground. The night before came to mind. The moment he had asked Dick to make sure Jason didn't get to him. But, there was no Dick here and Jason was burning down the manor. Burning down his home.

Tim lunged.

Without thinking like he should, he grabbed the barrel of the gun, causing it to go off beside his ear and silence the world for a moment. The moment of resistance was short lived as Jason took advantage of Tim's frail state and grabbed him around the throat, slamming him into the rock ground. Tim groaned as pain rattled into his body and up his back, bringing tears to his eyes as Jason squeezed his throat.

Jason wasn't impressed by the stupidity of the move. All he could think was the kid was tiny. Too tiny to be a Robin. Too tiny to be a teenager. Too young to die.

And then the thought was gone and Jason was squeezing Tim's neck harder.

Tim choked out, "You're burning it."

"To the fucking ground," Jason seethed.

Tim could hear the building above begin to creak and shake and his eyes filled with anger rather than fear and shock. He croaked past the hand on his neck, "It was our home!"

"It was a mausoleum," Jason hissed, lifting Tim slightly from the floor by his throat.

Tim then found himself being dragged to his feet, an arm wrapping itself tightly around his middle as he was pulled towards the exit of the cave where a motor bike was located. Tim looked between Jason and the other two occupants of the room hurriedly, his eyes widening in realization.

He was going with them.

"Torch the rest," Jason order behind himself as they moved away and Roy turned towards the desk and computer, beginning to pour gasoline over the top. Tim immediately began to struggle in the iron hold, clawing desperately at the flesh on Jason's arm.

"No!" Tim shouted. "You can't!"

"Shut up," Jason snapped, shoving Tim onto the motorbike before sitting behind him, keeping a restraining arm on the kid's body. "I dare you to fall off, kid."

And then they were going.

The cold air hit Tim's face like a ton a bricks and the forest surrounding the exit of the cave whirled past like paint spilled on concrete. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to think of something to do to stop the motorbike. But, at the speed they were going, the chances of him crashing it and either of them surviving was slim to none, especially with his own body still in the condition it was in.

Jason drove like an insane person.

Tim wasn't surprised.

They pulled down several alley ways before they stopped under one fire escape in particular. Tim was forced off of the bike then, and pushed up onto one of the ladders. His bones ached with the climb until they stopped on the fourth story floor and he was shoved into a window that was propped open.

Tim stumbled into the dark apartment and caught himself on a couch in order to get himself steady. He kept his back turned to Jason, blue eyes scanning the room as he listened to the elder fight in order to shut the window behind them.

"Alright kid," Jason said, turning from where he had been working on the window. "Let's get to work."

Before he could explain however, Tim was grabbing a lamp from the end table beside the couch. He turned suddenly, throwing the object as Jason's head and causing the man to duck in surprise. Tim ran towards the kitchen, ignoring the curses that followed as he dove behind the island in the middle of the room.

"Alright kid," Jason's voice growled. "You're paying for that one."

Tim peered over the counter top, grabbing a fork that was sitting alone. He then fell back down behind his cover as Jason entered the kitchen, his footsteps slowly inching towards Tim…

As soon as Jason's leg came around the island, Tim dug the fork into the man's shin. Jason cried out in pain and as Tim moved to get away, he was grabbed tightly by his ebony hair. Tim shouted, but was silenced almost instantly when a fist collided with his mouth twice.

He tasted blood, his lip opening in a gush of red. He held his hand over the wound, but Jason made no further assault as he plucked the fork from his shin.

Tim sat on the floor silently holding his mouth and trying to stop the world from spinning. He felt completely unwell and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up in a manor that hadn't been burned to the ground.

"Alright," Jason sounded like he was doing his damn best to stay calm. "Are you done?"

Tim slowly looked up through his bangs, nervous to make eye contact. Jason reached down before lifting Tim and setting him to sit on top of the counter. It reminded Tim of when Alfred would patch him up after patrols in the kitchen rather than the batcave because Bruce would want to work alone on his findings for the night.

Jason's eyes bore into Tim's own as Tim wiped the rest of the blood from his busted and swollen lip. Tim jumped when Jason broke the eye contact, shaking his head. He was chuckling again, which filled Tim with even more fear.

"You put up a good fight for someone who was just in an explosion."

Tim gulped, shifting slightly before he questioned softly, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Maybe," Jason shrugged, ruffling Tim's hair slightly, putting Tim in an even more uneasy mood. He began to tremble as Jason moved away and began to make a pot of coffee nearby.

"I-I don't…"

"You don't what?" Jason turned and looked at Tim who was watching with a pale look on his face. In fact, the entire color of his skin had turned stark white. Jason's eyebrows furrowed and Tim's mouth shut, his pupils beginning to grow and shrink.

"I don't want to die, Jason."

Jason rolled his eyes, "No thirteen-year-old wants to die."

Tim said nothing in return and Jason grabbed a nearby rag, putting it over the bleeding wound on his shin. He grumbled under his breath, "If I get an infection from this, that'll be your head, kid."

Tim didn't seem to notice the threat and instead whispered, "You burned down the manor."

Jason nodded, "Yes, I burned down the manor. You were there. I was there. Fun times."

"Why?" Tim insisted.

"Because Dickie pissed me off," Jason snapped, throwing down the rag. "What better way to get back at him than burn down his nest?"

Tim looked away, biting down hard on his lip. Guilt had formed in his belly. Maybe if he hadn't been such a baby about his injuries and not taken the pain medicine, he wouldn't have slept through Jason and the others catching the manor on fire. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten dragged here.

Maybe. It was all maybes but it was all better.

"Backlash," Tim growled, anger suddenly bubbling up inside of him.

Jason looked at him curiously, "What?"

Tim repeated, this time a little louder…

"Backlash, Jason. One of the most important things to consider when making a drastic move. Backlash."

It was silent between Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne.

They were seated in one of the many meeting rooms of Wayne Tech, a quiet sitting between the two of them. Clark's face was stoic as always while Bruce held one of contempt and frustration against the other man.

Bruce was the first to speak…

"I don't like having meetings outside of our suits."

Clark chuckled, truly sounding amused, "Yet you had no trouble meeting me as civilians when it came to coaching me about Conner those years ago."

"That was different," Bruce huffed. "We were talking about you being a better father. Right now you're talking about a potential threat to the world and about how the "end" is going to begin in my city."

"Well," Clark sighed. "Considering you don't exactly welcome people to your cave and how the meeting the other day went so poorly…I figured this would be the best way to discuss the issue with you."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, "Have you spoken to Oliver about his hiding of information?"

Clark shook his head, "No, and don't change the subject."

Bruce folded his hands together and explained, "Jason Todd is not capable of starting a war. He has his connections underground. He controls some of Black Mask's territory. But, in the end that's the drug war. Not a complete, full out, destroying civilization as we know it, war. Not what Bart is describing."

"So you think the boy is lying then?" Clark hummed.

"I think he doesn't have his facts straight," Bruce corrected.

Suddenly, without warning, the door to the office flew open to show one of Bruce's secretaries. Her face was flushed and yet pale as the same time as she spoke hurriedly…

"Mr. Wayne…It's your home…It's on fire."

Dick was seated in the mountain on the kitchen counter. On the opposite counter sat Barbara while both Conner and M'gann leaned against them. Artemis and Wally had taken to sitting on the floor, after M'gann swore up and down she had just done some cleaning and that it was perfectly safe.

Artemis sighed quietly, glancing into the living room where Bart and Jaime were watching television. She muttered, "Well, last night sucked."

M'gann shrugged optimistically, "Well…I mean at least we stopped them from killing Black Mask."

"We didn't apprehend them though," Conner grunted angrily. "I can't believe Roy and Ollie didn't tell us about the Original Roy and Starfire."

Dick glanced up at Barbara who was staring at him at the mention of Kori's name. His shoulders tensed and he wondered silently if Kori had even really recognized them in the fight. Barbara held eye contact with him as she said in a cold voice, "Some people are just no good."

Dick narrowed his eyes.

She continued, "Doesn't mean we should kill them for it."

The others glanced at each other and Dick sat up a bit straighter, looking into the red head's eyes behind his sunglasses.

Dick spoke firmly, "Sometimes there's an exception."

"Never," Barbara hissed. "Not when it comes to that."

"Um, are we still talking about who I think we're talking about?" Wally asked. "Cause things are getting vague."

Artemis elbowed him, causing him to grunt loudly.

Dick finally broke eye contact with the other and cleared his throat, "We did the best we could do. And Megan is right; we saved Black Mask, which was the true objective. Capturing t-these…These Outlaws or whatever they are will have to be saved for another day."

"Optimistic for a bat," Artemis grinned.

Dick returned the smile, though his was a bit weary, "What can I say? I have my moments."

"Nightwing!" Bart's voice suddenly called from the living room.

Dick's eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses and he jumped off the counter, moving into the living room with the others behind him. Bart turned the television screen up, showing a newscast from Gotham.

Wayne Manor…Was on fire.

The woman on the television began to speak in a monotone voice, "This is Vicki Vale reporting from Gotham City. Behind me, you can see that the historic Wayne Manor is burning to the ground. No word on the Wayne family and if the members are safe. Firefighters have been battling the flames for over half an hour now, trying to get things under control."

"Holy shit," Wally whispered from behind Dick.

Dick rushed out hurriedly, Barbara following close behind.

Jaime looked around with a confused expression, asking, "Am I the only one lost right now?"

Both Bruce and Clark exited Bruce's vehicle at Wayne Manor. Though Bruce had insisted Clark not come, that it was a civilian matter, the meta-human had refused ten-fold to stay behind and allow Bruce to go alone, much to the Bat's dismay.

Both approached where Alfred stood behind the line that the firefighters had made around the perimeter of the mansion in order to keep people at a safe distance. The elderly man turned around hurriedly as Bruce approached, a concerned expression on his face.

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asked, keeping his tone steady.

Alfred's looked at a loss, and on the borderline of becoming distraught…

"Master Bruce…I have yet to see him emerge."

Bruce felt his heart slam into his chest suddenly and he was reminded of weeks ago when he had gotten the call from Barbara that Tim had been hurt. He remembered the day he had found Jason in the rubble of the warehouse…

It all hit him at once.

Just as a firefighter was walking past, Bruce grabbed him by the arm to stop him. He asked steadily, "Has anyone been found inside of the home?"

"No," The firefighter responded calmly, though his face looked grim. He obviously recognized Bruce. "We have some men inside the manor, but the east wing is nearly engulfed."

"My word," Alfred whispered, putting a hand on his chest.

Tim's room…It was on the east wing.

Bruce allowed the firefighter to walk away before turning his attention to Clark. He said quietly, "Can you see anything?"

Clark seemed to understand that the man was referring to his x-ray vision. Clark looked towards the mansion, peering his eyes into the flames of the home as he scanned the house.

"No," Clark responded. "I don't see anyone inside except for the firefighters."

"Bruce!"

Bruce looked over, seeing Dick hurriedly approaching with Barbara not far behind him. His eyes were wide with terror and Bruce had to fight down the urge to order one of the firefighters to get his eldest off the premises.

Dick wasn't going to handle this well. Bruce already knew.

The first thing Dick asked when he approached was exactly what Bruce had expected…

"Where is he?"

Bruce held out a hand in a calming manner before saying, "Dick listen to-"

Dick interrupted, shouting, "Where is he!?"

"Master Richard," Alfred tried this time, stepping forward as well. "Please, upsetting yourself in this situation any further won't be of any help."

Dick bit down hard into the inside of his cheek, his eyes finding Bruce's. He managed to ground out past the panic, "Bruce, where is he? Where's my brother?"

Bruce spoke firmly…

"We're not sure."

Dick lost it…

"Don't use that voice!" Dick shouted, jabbing a finger into Bruce's chest. "Don't use that clinical voice that you use on victims when you're telling them something has happened to someone they care about! Don't use that voice! Tim is your kid!"

Bruce grabbed a hold of Dick's arm before snapping, "Calm down."

Dick opened his mouth to continue his rampage, only to be interrupted as Clark said, "Bruce…I feel as if he's not in there."

Barbara, who had been silent, finally croaked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Clark began, running a hand through his hair. "A fire has to be very…hot, to incinerate a body. I would be able to see one."

"So he's not in there?" Dick asked, his voice hopeful.

Clark nodded, "I don't believe he is."

Before they could say more, a different firefighter approached, holding out his hand for Bruce to shake. He spoke quickly, "Hello Mr. Wayne, I'm Fire Chief Levine. Do you know if anyone else would be in your home at the moment?"

Bruce took the hand and shook it before explaining, "Well…We thought my youngest child would be home, but we believe he wasn't."

"Yes sir," Chief Levine replied. "From what we can tell, there wasn't anyone else in the home. We just wanted to check with you and be sure."

He paused a moment before going on, "Sir, we have reason to believe your home was purposefully set ablaze. Our men are trained to look out for the signs of arson and we'd like to conduct an investigation."

"I'm going to have to decline," Bruce replied. "I'll get a private team on it and have them send you the paperwork."

The firefighter attempted to insist, but Bruce ended the conversation rather quickly. As soon as the man had walked away, Bruce heard Dick growl, "I know who did it."

Barbara grabbed his arm tightly, "You don't know."

"May I inquire just who you're thinking of, Master Richard?" Alfred questioned.

"Jason," Dick spat the name out like poison in his mouth. "Jason Todd."