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Condemned

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It was a nice night, both Jason and Roy staying in, drinking probably too much of the cheap beer Roy had found. Though, Roy would argue that Jason had stolen more than his fair share.

“Y’know?” Jason started, laying half off the couch, “I think that- that lil - uh- Tim! Yeah, Tim, I ‘on’t think that kid’s all that bad.”

Roy snorted, poking at Jason’s stomach with his toe. “Oh, so now ya like ‘im? After he smacked ya with his- his fuckin, uh? Gandalf stick?”

Jason laughed, sliding a little more off the couch, but not quite falling. Probably a super-human feat. His hand searched blindly below him, looking for the half-empty bottle he hadn’t finished yet.

"Wait wait, 's'not a Gandalf stick, a? a staff? That it?" Roy mumbled incoherently to himself. Jason ignored it.

Jason tried to take a drink, sitting up just enough to be horizontal, and carefully sipped the alcohol. “Yeah man, I mean, I’d just shot the kid, and he still managed to hit me hard enough that I still have a bruise. I’m proud of that lil bastard.” he said, grumbling out “Even if he did take my shit.”

Roy took the bottle from Jason, who was distracted enough to let it happen. “You gonna go big brother him or somethin’?”

“You gonna be jealous ‘bout me not babyin’ you?”

Roy faked a gasp, horrified at the prospect. “Y’ wouldn’t dare”

Jason smiled, scooting around so he was at least mostly on the couch, pulling Roy down by his belt loops. For a moment he just looked up at the red head, before looking down to where his hands were resting.

"Did you notice he was wearing pants!" he all but yelled, "I didn't get pants! No! I got those fuckin! Underwear things!" He huffed, chest deflating, he was still glaring at Roy's pants. "Nevermind, I take it back, I don't like him."

"Just cause he has pants?"

"Yep."

Roy laughed, leaning into Jason's chest, "Ok."

.

.

Jason crouched in a small hallway that led to the roof. It was a great vantage point, hard to see him, easy to see everything else. He caught a flash of yellow and red, the new Robin running around.

After a while of watching and waiting, studying both Tim's fighting style and anything that might've changed in Bruce's, a bang and a sharp scream caught his attention.

Robin was falling.

Bruce was too far away.

Jason moved forward before he could really think about it, grabbing Tim's wrist. A cry of pain came when he jerked to a stop, pulling on his shoulder.

With a heave, Jason pulled Tim up. It was easy to catch the moment that Tim noticed who had caught him, who was standing less than a foot away. His mouth hung open, pressing himself against the opposing wall.

Jason grunted, reaching into his pack for a roll of gauze, lightly grabbing Tim's arm to steady the younger boy. "I'm not here to hurt you," He started wrapping Tim's arm, "Especially when you're already hurt, that's not a fair fight at all."

Tim's eyes were wide, tracking each and every one of Jason's movements warily. "You're- ? Uh, what?"

Jason scoffed, meeting Tim's mask-covered eyes. "Can't have my rival dying by someone else's hands, now can I?"

Tim sputtered some more.

"I'm jokin' Timmers, I'm only tryna help you here."

To his credit, Tim only nodded, ducking his head and letting Jason finish wrapping the gunshot.

"Ok, I don't really care if you tell Bruce who did this, but you will not track me down, not yet. I will hold you to that."

Tim nodded, already coming up with a plan on what to tell Bruce. There was one thing, though.

"Why- why won't you just come home? If you don't.. hate me, then why not just come back?"

Jason smiled, maybe a little more bitter and sad than he had intended, "I'm not welcome there kiddo."

Tim opened his mouth like he was ready to protest, but Jason cut him off before he could start. "I can still hear some punches being thrown, you better get down there, 'fore B comes up to find you slackin'"

Tim nodded, watching as Jason melded back into the shadows of his lookout point with a small nod.