This was it. He was going to die. If he was thinking clearly, he might be able to think a way out of this. Maybe. But even with three different vaccines to Ivy's pollen in him, it was still affecting his brain, his senses.

No one even knew he was here. The distress signal in his belt would be perfect if he could reach it. But he couldn't. So that was out.

And there she was. Ivy. Stalking up to him like some sort of plant-based predator with a smile wider than a Venus fly trap's. "Oh dearie me. I seem to have caught a little red breasted robin. Not the usual meal for my darling, but it should do." And with that, she directed her vines, holding him spread-eagle, to position him over a pitcher plant. A pitcher plant the size of a small garage and, knowing Ivy, containing an acid that would dissolve him within ten minutes.

Definitely going to die.

Wait.

Did he smell gasoline?

Ivy shrieked, and the vines loosened just enough for him to slip out, crashing against the lip of the pitcher and snapping at least three ribs. Thankfully, he slid down the outside of it.

He was still catching his breath when a hand roughly pulled him upright. "Hurry up Robin, we don't have much time before the fire reaches the bomb." Jason. How had Jason found him? And why was he saving him?

He couldn't really articulate these questions, not with the pollen fuzzing his brain and the rib threatening to poke out of his skin, but he did manage a, "H'd, why?"

A snort. "I save your sorry life and I get a 'why' for my troubles. But if you must know, I was planning on taking Ivy today anyways. You just happened to get lucky."

No kidding with the lucky. After Jason had beaten him senseless in Titans Tower, almost all of their encounters had been antagonistic, and fueled with more than a little bit of Pit-rage. Sometimes it burned so strongly, he could see the green behind Jason's helmet lenses. But today.

Cautiously, Tim looked up. Nothing. In fact, Jason seemed calmer than he ever had before. Was he getting better?

They weren't even a full block away when the greenhouse exploded. Violently. It was at least twice as big as the time when Jason had blown Black Mask sky high. What had Jason used, napalm? Never mind. Clearly not better.

Still, Tim didn't have much of a choice as Jason dragged him along. The pollen was affecting his balance, his muscle strength. If it wasn't for Jason's hand still wrapped around his arm, he would probably fall to the ground and stay there until someone showed up.

The cops would be nice. Batman or Nightwing would be better. Batgirl would be best, she wouldn't lecture him for being reckless. But, with Tim's luck, it would probably be a thug or a criminal and they would take advantage of his floppiness and shoot him. Or unmask him.

Jason pulled Tim upright and wrapped his other arm around his chest. Pulling the grapple from Tim's belt – Jason probably had his own, but it probably wasn't built to hold two people – he shot off, dragging Tim along for the ride.

After about ten minutes of travel, they ended up in one of the nicer areas of Gotham, right across the street from a police precinct. Not Gordon's, but a good one. Jason dropped Tim onto the rooftop, arranging him so he was sitting up in the shadow of a chimney. Then, he reached in and pressed the button on Tim's belt, the distress beacon. "Bats should be here in a few minutes. But if someone comes before then, press this button," and something was slipped into his hand, "and I'll come back. Can't let Bats see me or I'll catch all kinds of trouble. Don't tell them it was me, alright?"

He waited for Tim's weak nod, then backed away. "Keep safe little brother!" With a sarcastic salute, Jason dived off the building, proving that yes, he did have his own grapple. And Tim was alone.

It was really nice of Jason to put him beside a chimney. It was really cold out, winter was just starting after all, and the brick radiated heat. He actually got so comfortable, he fell asleep a little bit, startling awake when boots landed on the rooftop. Something heavy, but it landed in such a way that was almost completely silent.

Tim smiled up into Dick's face. Carefully, Dick loaded him up onto the Nightcycle and drove him back to the Cave.

And the little button that Tim was given was slipped into his belt. It was his only proof that Jason had been there, that he had been kind enough to save him, to make sure he was safe and warm. It wasn't proof that his idol, his hero, his brother, would come back to them, but Tim could hope.

He could hope.

Carefully, carefully, don't let Babs know. Who was he kidding, of course she knew. No one tried to hack into the family's communication network without her knowing. That he had gotten this far just meant that she wanted him to come back.

Fat chance.

There. He was in. It was quiet though. Babs, the mighty Oracle, was probably blocking most of the signals from getting to him. Stuff like where Batman was right now, whether he was injured, stuff that Jason could use to kill the self-righteous prick once and for all, yeah, she probably wouldn't let him hear any of that.

But other stuff. Lots of police chatter. Nightwing was going after Penguin, again. Robin was going dark, sneaking into Croc's lair and voices tended to echo. Of the Arkham inmates, Clayface was out, causing trouble downtown, which Batman was dealing with. Ivy had escaped last week, but there hadn't been a peep from her. Harley had tried and failed to bust out Joker and was sitting pretty in her cell again.

A normal night. Well, since everyone else was occupied, he might as well go deal with some of that police chatter. Robbery at the First Gotham Bank, no trouble at all to deal with.

Four minutes later, he was sitting on top of the bank, looking down through the skylight. The robbers had hostages, but with the police outside and no other way in or out, they were trapped. Idiots. This bank had been robbed so many times that all the secret routes had been bricked up. The only way in or out was the front door.

And the skylight.

He didn't crash through it, not like Batman would have. Instead, he carefully lifted a pane of glass and slipped in, sitting in the darkness of the rafters.

And smiled as he listened to the panicked voices of the robbers.

"What are we gonna do?"

"The blueprint said it was right here!"

"Did you hear that?"

"We're so screwed."

"The Bat is gonna show up and we're gonna be toast."

It wasn't the Bat these boys had to worry about. Oops, make that boys and one girl. The leader of the operation, by the looks of things.

He swept his gaze over the assembled mooks. Of the five guys, only three were recognizable criminals, with rap sheets as long as Jason's arm. Mostly as hired thugs, but two had done hostages before and ended up killing the lot of them in cold blood. Children too. The other crook was mostly in it for petty theft, and the last two looked desperate. Probably civilians with no other choice.

The lady was Eva Stone. She had been in the game for years but had never gotten convicted. But the unofficial Bat file on her said that she had murder, trafficking, drug peddling, among many, many other crimes on her.

Well. Alright then.

He checked his clip, then pulled his second gun and checked that. Both were full.

Great!

He started shooting. Eva got one in her skull. The two hostage killing thugs took two in the chest. It was a toss up as to whether they'd live or not. Depends on how fast the ambulance drove actually. The petty thief got new kneecaps in the form of lead. He'd walk again, but he wouldn't be up to running from cops. Those scumbags taken care of, Jason jumped down.

The desperate ones looked terrified, standing back to back and looking for him. He landed right beside them, grabbed their heads and bashed them together. Then he held them up and turned them so they were facing him. Young, underfed. They probably didn't have families, but were stuck out in the streets.

He didn't have the same scare quality as Batman, but he knew that staring into the cold, impersonal blankness that was his helmet was unnerving. So much so that one of his captives wet himself. "If I ever see you doing this again, then what happened to them will seem like a walk in the park. Do you understand me?" He had a little bit of a voice filter on his mask, to make him sound like less of a nineteen year old. It also made him sound distant and impersonal, as if shooting these two in between the eyes wouldn't even be a problem for him. Which was true.

The two thugs nodded as much as they could with his hands still in their hair and started spouting off assurances. Jason dropped them, then turned to face the door. As quick as he could, he hacked into the lockdown system, raised the shutters to let the cops in, then grappled his way out of there.

Half a street away, he watched as the hostages flooded out of the doors, into blankets held by emergency workers and cops with notebooks to take their statements. A few people went in with gurneys and came out with two bodybags and two thugs writing in pain beneath the straps holding them still. So one of them hadn't made it. Huh.

The last two guys were led out in handcuffs, but from the looks on their faces, they wouldn't be trying this again. At least they would get fed in jail.

He smiled down at a flower that had sprouted in a crack on the roof. Batman wouldn't approve of his actions, but who cared? He'd killed two scumbags, two people who would never hurt anyone ever again. He'd probably saved the lives of those two kids too. More likely than not, the other four would have shot the kids once their usefulness was over, just so they didn't have to split the loot. What he'd done wasn't good, or right, but it wasn't bad or wrong either.

Wait. A flower in December?

Something wrapping around his ankle snapped his thoughts out of relative morality. Before he could react, the thing pulled, dragging him along the rooftop, then into the air. More things wrapped around his wrists, his other ankle, his neck, his waist, pulling outward until it looked like he was trying to do a jumping jack upside down.

Then the things, vines he noted, started moving, down his arms, under his shirt. He shuddered at the feel of it, the tendrils seeking out weaknesses in his armor and growing into them. In half a minute, his body armor fell to the ground in pieces, along with his guns, his holsters, his knife, his grenades, and every little piece of technology he'd swiped from the Bats since he'd come back.

The vines climbed up his neck, and under his helmet, but they couldn't find the secret catch to get it off. Which made sense. Taking off the helmet actually required hitting four buttons in a certain pattern. So, they simply settled for destroying all the electronics he had in there. Static blared in his ears until the power to that was cut, sparks stung his skin.

"Alright my dearies, leave some for me." Ivy. Not a surprise, considering the vines, but Jason had been hoping. "And you got everything? All of his little gadgets?" Apparently, they had, because Ivy purred out a "Good." She must have learned that from Catwoman.

"What do you want Ivy?" He could probably guess, but...

"What do I want?!" As expected, rage twisted Ivy's face. Normally, he wouldn't try and make her mad, but things couldn't really get much worse than this and if she was mad, she'd tell him what he wanted to know faster. "Do you have any idea what you did when you blew up my greenhouse? Hundreds of plants, hundreds of one of a kind plants, years of work, all of it gone in less than five minutes!" Yeah, he'd been on a roll that day. "That greenhouse was my life. So in return, I'm going to take yours." That didn't sound good. "If you would my dears?"

The tendrils inside his helmet twisted, shoving themselves past his lips and down his throat. He twisted, uselessly, as if he could pull the intruder out. Once at his esophagus, something popped, and he felt something cold and liquid run down towards his stomach. He coughed as the tendrils removed themselves.

"Don't worry. That won't kill you. It's just something I whipped up to keep you manageable." Was Ivy talking weird, or was his hearing off? "And don't worry. You won't have a quick death. You need to suffer as my plants suffered." His hearing was definitely off. Her words didn't match up with the movement of her mouth. Or did they? He couldn't tell. His vision went black and-

"And you're alright Robin?"

"Fit as a fiddle Oracle. Croc got away, but at least he can't access the sewer under the library anymore." Croc had been going up and stealing newspapers from the archives. All ones featuring Batman defeating him. While it wasn't a huge crime, those were the only copies on file and Batman wanted them safe in case he needed them as a clue later.

Right. Like Batman didn't have all the particulars for those cases memorized anyways.

"Good work. It looks like you're off for the rest of the... hm."

"Oracle?"

"Red Hood spent quite a bit of time pre-patrol hacking into our airwaves."

"What? No, he couldn't have, not with you keeping him out." Unless. "You let him in, didn't you?"

She sighed. "I put him on a restricted line, keeping him away from sensitive information, but allowing him access to the usual stuff. If I hadn't, then he would have gotten bored and gone after that drug ring Batman's been keeping an eye on."

Tim blanched. The drug ring wasn't selling, yet. But Batman was working on a plan to keep all the drugs off of the streets, keep property damage to a minimum, and walk away with zero casualties. If Red Hood went in, the first two objectives would be met. No guarantees on the third. "So, if you let him in, what's the problem?"

"I don't think he would just go offline like that. And it's not as simple as him turning off his radio, the connection would still be there. Something destroyed it."

Tim had a bunch of conflicting emotions when it came to Red Hood. On one hand, he had tried to kill Bruce, had beaten both Dick and Tim senseless more than once, and spent his nights committing murder and causing mayhem. But, on the other hand, he had saved Tim's life. "Do you think he's in trouble?"

"It's a definite possibility. Unfortunately, without the radio, I have no way of tracking him."

But Tim might. He took the button out of his pocket, the one that Jason had given him a couple of months ago. Tim had taken it apart, of course, and studied it. It was incredibly simple. Press the button, and it would send a signal to Jason's helmet to alert him. But, with a little tweaking, it could also be used to track Jason's helmet wherever it went. "I'm on my way."

He cut out his radio and jumped off the rooftop, swinging his way to the clock tower.

It was the prick to the neck that brought him to consciousness, but it was the sudden fire in his veins that brought him to screaming wakefulness. Metaphorical screaming. He had some sort of vine-based gag in his mouth. And no helmet, he was incredibly not pleased to see.

Thankfully, the fire died down in seconds, leaving him gasping. As he had been taught, he started catalouging injuries. Shoulders were both in pain, probably from the way he was hanging. Vines encased his arms, leaving his torso to swing. Legs were wrapped up as well. Besides that, there wasn't any other injuries. Except the one on his neck. Carefully, he turned, trying to see it as much as he could.

He couldn't see anything. Just a slender vine trailing from his neck to an empty jar below him. A green hand dipped into his vision and removed the jar. "So you're awake. Good. Dear, if you wouldn't mind?"

And the vines shifted, a few going to wrap around his chest while the ones on his arms unwrapped his hands to the elbow. He didn't know where his jacket had gone, hopefully the sleeves were rolled up and beneath the remaining vines. Finally, the vines maneuvered his bare arms in front of him, so that his wrists were facing Ivy.

Reaching out, she gave the vine trailing from his neck a gentle tug. Jason gasped as the vine slithered inside his blood vessel and extracted itself. "Hm. I don't want you bleeding out on me. That's entirely too quick of a death." Well, maybe she should have thought of that before she shoved a vine into his jugular.

Jason leaned back as she raised her arm. As much as he could anyways. It was probably futile, but there was a seed in her hand that he really didn't like the look of. She ended up having to stand on her tip toes, but she managed to get the seed settled between his skin and his suit collar. Almost instantly, he could feel it start to grow.

"This is just a little pet project of mine. When it reaches maturity, which will only be about a minute with me here, it has incredibly thin, yet strong stems, and a sharp thorn right on the end. It's fantastic for mending some of my thicker vines. Of course, it doesn't behave like this when I'm not here."

She walked away as the little plant started its work stitching up his neck. And frankly, it was doing a terrible job. The thorn was much thicker than any needle he'd ever used and the stems kept twisting, even once it was done.

Ivy was ignoring him, which was startling considering her anger at him earlier. But there she was, at her work table, filling two jars with some stuff. His helmet was over there...

Before he could figure out how to use that to his advantage, she walked back. "This, Red Hood, will be the instrument of your demise. A two part poison, and it's only effective when mixed inside the body. It will start with numbness, then excruciating pain. That will last for at least three hours. After that, you will be dead." She regarded him. "Hm. I think I want to hear your agony." She gestured, and the vine unwrapped itself from his mouth.

Carefully, she placed the jars on the ground, then put the vine that had been in his neck into one of them. Putting an identical vine into the other, she directed them to wrap around his elbows, then down his arms. Damn. He couldn't reach them from that position. Ivy pulled a knife and opened the veins on his wrists. Before even a single drop of blood could escape, the vines were entering. He choked out a scream at the twisting, crawling sensation. It sent shivers up and down his spine.

As the larger vines moved his hands further apart, the tiny little tendrils kept crawling. Towards his heart. That wasn't good.

But she was ignoring him again. "What's the matter Ivy? Don't even have the decency to look at me while you kill me?"

She gave a laugh. "Don't be silly. I'm simply in the middle of something. But once the show starts, you'll have my full attention."

"Well, I'm flattered. But what could be more important than the murder of someone who caused you so much loss?"

"You'll be dead soon. You don't need to know."

He offered his own laugh at that, but with vines in his rib cage, it came out quite a bit more strangled. "Yeah, but I know how you villain types like to brag. So brag. I'll be dead soon. Can't tell anyone." One of those vines was climbing up his neck. The heck? Did it get lost?

She hmm'd, but was otherwise silent while she considered. "Very well. It's nothing special. Just developing more of those vines I have in you. But these will have their own supply of poison. No relying on jars. And then I will spread them around Gotham, and finally destroy this sickness plaguing plant-kind. This is my best batch so far." By the end of her little monologue, she almost seemed happy.

"And your other batches?" She gestured vaguely to a few bags on the side of the table. "Well that's fantastic Ivy. But you've forgotten one thing." It was getting difficult to breathe. Something cold entered the middle of his chest. A quick glance down showed the jars emptying alarmingly fast.

She stiffened, then slowly, with trepidation, turned to ask him. "What have I forgotten?"

He gave her his best grin, one that had made monks want to slap him. "Never keep your entire supply in one place."

He couldn't reach his other arm, couldn't grab at the vine and pull it out or cut it or something. But he could reach his jacket collar. The jacket collar with the fairly large snap button. The snap button that was actually a detonator for the bomb inside his helmet. The numbness had started, but thankfully, he didn't need a lot of dexterity for this. He smacked it.

"You might want to run Ivy." His helmet lenses started flashing. It had already sensed that his head wasn't in it and so was about five seconds from exploding. It wouldn't be a big explosion, he might get hit by shrapnel, but not heat. However, anything flammable in the immediate area would go up faster than flash paper. Including Ivy's seeds, her work table, a tree or four, and Ivy herself if she didn't motor.

Luckily for her, she wasn't stupid. She dashed off, making it out of the blast zone just as his helmet went up in flames.

Six pieces of shrapnel hit Jason. Two in the legs, three in the chest, one in his arm and one grazing past his neck, opposite of his plant stitches. Not that he could really feel them. Good news though, the jars got knocked over by the force of the explosion. Only half empty. He'd take it.

The greenhouse started burning. Second one in as many months. If he survived this, he was going for a hat trick.

That was his last coherent thought. The pain started in, every nerve on fire, and he screamed.

"Keep going Robin. The tracker says he's five hundred meters straight ahead." With Babs relaying directions it had only taken Tim an hour to get here, from the time Jason had gone offline. It had taken longer to jury rig the distress button into an impromptu tracker than Tim would have liked, but it worked.

Worked right up until Babs swore. "Tracker offline. Something must have destroyed the rest of his helmet."

Coming to the apex of his swing, Tim hit recoil and landed gently on top of the building. "Don't worry about it Oracle. I think I know where he is." After all, only one of the building in the area was on fire. That had Jason written all over it. He made his way over until he was right across the street.

"Hold tight. Nightwing is on his way." The implication was clear. They didn't want Tim anywhere near Jason by himself. His own fault really. He'd never told them how Jason had saved his life. Not just because Jason had asked him not to. If he had, Dick would have gone after Jason, intent on turning that single act of kindness into an intense desire to return to the family. Jason would have gotten no peace, and probably would have shot Dick for his troubles. If they wanted Jason back, he would have to come to them. By his own choice. And so Tim had kept quiet.

He waited. After a moment, Ivy burst out of the door. She collapsed onto the pavement, coughing out smoke. Tim jumped and landed beside her, slipping handcuffs around her wrists before she could recover. "Where's Red Hood?" He wasn't as intimidating as Batman, but he got the job done.

She laughed. "It's too late for him now. He'll die in his own fire. That's more justice for my plants than anything."

With a snarl, Tim knocked her out. "Oracle, I need to go in there. Ivy says he's still inside."

"No Tim. Wait for Dick."

He was about to reply, to argue, when a scream split the night. "I can't." And he turned off his radio.

The greenhouse was like an inferno and with all the green plants in here, filled with smoke. He pulled a set of goggles and a rebreather from his belt and put them both on. Better than suffocating. He still couldn't see, but he didn't need to. He just had to follow the screaming.

One thing he had learned pretty fast about Jason was that he was tough. Very rarely did he admit to pain, let alone cry out from it. If he was screaming, it must be bad.

He finally found him in the middle of the greenhouse, suspended by vines. There wasn't any time to assess his injuries, so Tim just cut him down and started carrying him out. Jason was heavy, but Tim managed. He made it outside just as Dick landed.

Dick took Jason and together they swung off, getting to a well lit rooftop a safe distance away. Then, they spread Jason out.

His injuries weren't too bad. A few pieces of what looked like his helmet were embedded in his chest, but those were big, not too deep, and easy to pull out and patch. Much more worrisome were the shrivelled vines entering his wrists, and continuing as green lines, following his veins to his chest, up his neck.

Dick squeaked when Jason grabbed him by the throat, "Ivy... new pois... on... fatal," then promptly went back to screaming.

The other two vigilantes shared a quick glance with each other, then scrambled in their belts for sedatives. The antidotes they had wouldn't work if this was a new poison. Might actually make it worse. But at least they could ease Jason a little.

Jason's screams trailed off into small whimpers and they decided it was probably safe to load him onto Nightwing's motorbike and take off for the Cave like bats out of hell. It was slower going with three people, but with Dick up front and Tim in the back, they could keep Jason upright and sandwiched between them.

As they went, Tim called up Alfred and asked him to prepare everything they would need to synthesize a new antidote. The man complied, even had a gurney waiting when they rolled into the Cave. Carefully, they loaded Jason up and wheeled him away. Dick took blood sample after blood sample while Tim started cutting away what remained of his shirt. He was incredibly careful to keep the jacket in one piece though. Cutting that off would probably get him shot. Not that there was much of it left to salvage.

The Batmobile rolled in after a few minutes. With no hesitation, Batman stripped off his cowl and grabbed one of the blood samples, sticking it under the microscope. The man hadn't slept in three days, but Tim had no doubt that he would find something.

They worked for well over an hour. Running simulations, determining the make up of the poison, microscopes and beakers and mass spectronomy and tests.

Jason only woke up once. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes wouldn't focus, but he was coherent enough. And what he told them sent Batman into even more of a frenzy. Dual injection, delivered by vine.

Eventually, Tim got the idea to take a sample from the vines themselves. Alfred had been trying to slowly draw them out, without much luck. The vines had literally grown inside of Jason's veins, and they followed the branching pathways wherever they went. Eventually, the butler had been forced to open small holes at each of the junctions and draw out the plant matter there.

The samples from the plants were much better. Not only had they not been mixed yet, they weren't contaminated by the lingering traces of Pit water in Jason's system.

Tim had just given Batman his findings, which lead Batman to a fairly promising antidote, when Jason crashed. "Bruce! The antidote, now!"

"It's not complete yet! It could kill him!" Which was a terrifying possibility for Batman. Not just a possibility, a reality. He'd suffered through Jason's death once already.

But there was no time for this. "And he'll definitely die if he doesn't get that!" Batman still hesitated, so Tim stalked up and grabbed the little vial. Getting the longest needle he could, he filled a syringe and stabbed the antidote directly into Jason's heart.

There wasn't an immediate effect. But after a minute or two, Jason's heart rate leveled out and his breathing became steady. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Not that he was out of the water. His vitals were dangerously low. So, they all went back to work.

Everything hurt. All of his limbs were made of lead, something massive was sitting on his chest, and someone had decided to take an ice pick to his brain.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to will himself into feeling some sense of normalcy. It didn't work, but the fact that he could make the effort made him feel better.

So he opened his eyes. And what he saw made him sick.

He was in his room. Not his room in his apartment, his room at the Manor. And who was sleeping in the chair beside his bed but Bruce Wayne. No, no, he wasn't staying here.

Not that he had much of a choice. He tried to push himself up, but his arms weren't working right. Eventually, he got himself up to sitting, with his feet on the floor. It took him a minute, but eventually, he managed to get his finger onto the off switch on the heart monitor. Then he started pulling off sensors, tugging IVs out of his arms. His jacket was slung at the end of the bed, and he threw it on. He didn't have a shirt on, but at least they'd had the decency to put him in a pair of sweats.

It was as he was pulling on his jacket that he noticed. Dozens of tiny cuts, all over his chest and arms, stitched shut. Not important.

Bruce hadn't woken up. Jason was stealthy, but still, the man should have at least twitched by now. He must have been up for a few days.

Carefully, he tried to get to his feet. And promptly fell back onto the bed. His legs definitely didn't want to work. But if this was his room, and by the looks of it, nothing had changed, then... Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a collapsible bo staff. He'd been training with it the week before he had died, trying to increase his proficiency with it. He had a bunch of stuff he wasn't supposed to under his bed. Batarangs, his staff, escrima sticks, a few practice versions of bladed weapons, lots of stuff. He practiced before bed, then tossed them under there before he went to sleep.

That wasn't important either. What was important was that the bo staff would help. With it, he was able to pull himself to his feet and stand, shaky, but up. He hobbled over to the window, taking care to keep the staff from thumping against the floor. He almost lost his balance, but managed to fall just in time to grab the sill. After a moment of fumbling, he unlatched it and drew it up, wincing at the scraping noise. A look back revealed a still sleeping Bruce Wayne though, so he kept going.

It took almost all of his energy to throw one leg out the window. He sat there, just for a moment, just breathing. Once he felt like he might not pass out, he pulled the other leg up and over the window sill.

Hm. The ground looked soft enough. Especially with a few feet of snow on it. So he let himself drop, trying to position himself in a way that wouldn't shatter his shins on impact.

Haha, victory. Still shaky, with the help of the staff, he pulled himself up and started walking away.

It was probably stupid. He would probably freeze to death out here. He had just been poisoned, his legs would probably give out, he might relapse.

None of that was important. He couldn't stay in that house anymore.

He didn't deserve it.

How did Alfred do this? The man must be magic or something, to be able to open doors while carrying heavy trays filled to bursting with food or drinks or, in this case, medicine. Why had Tim offered to do this?

Because Alfred was making dinner and Jason had to have his IV bag changed, that was why. Sighing, Tim somehow managed to get the tray perched on one arm while the newly freed hand went for the doorknob.

His effort to get in the room and not drop anything was wasted the second he saw the bed. And dropped the tray.

Empty. Jason was gone.

Bruce woke up at the crash, and looked around disoriented for a moment before seeing the bed. Then he whipped into detective mode, scanning the room for where Jason could have gone.

Tim was looking too. His gaze lingered on the closet and the bathroom, just hoping but the doors hadn't been opened recently. The window had though, which had to be the worst case scenario. Bruce and Tim reached the window at the same time and shoved their heads outside. Footprints, one set, leading away from the house and quickly being filled in by the blizzard that had started ten minutes ago.

They ran for the front door, shouting for Alfred and Dick, grabbing at their coats.

They followed the tracks for twenty minutes before the blizzard made them indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. So they split up.

"Jason!" The blizzard was eating his words, smothering them, but he still had to try. "Jason, where are you?"

Bruce called. Alfred had looked up all of Red Hood's known safehouses. Tim was supposed to go check them out while Dick and Bruce searched the woods between the Manor and Gotham.

Good thing he had his belt. Never leave home without it. He pressed the button that called his bike, then took off into the snow.

Yup. Definitely a stupid idea. His legs weren't moving anymore. Whether it was some lingering effect from the poison, which was entirely likely, or if it was the cold, also likely, or some combination of the two, which it probably was.

He'd gotten to his apartment. Some miracle that was. It was the one closest to the Manor so of course he never used it. And because he never used it, the thermostat was still set to summer temperatures. So really low.

The apartment was freezing. The tank he had gotten thinking that maybe he would get a fish was a solid chunk of ice.

He couldn't even pull himself to get at the dial. Once he'd gotten through the door, he'd just kind of collapsed onto the carpet. Sort of the carpet. His head had landed on the little table he kept near the door, for keys and things, but that was fine. It just bounced off and joined the rest of him on the floor.

Suddenly, his chest felt tight, and he coughed. And coughed. Increasingly loud and forceful, he couldn't stop them. Stitches popped. He couldn't breathe...

Just when it felt like he was about to hack a lung, they stopped, and he sucked in a grateful breath. Fuzzy spot were dancing in his eyes. Yeah. That's what that moving blob was. Couldn't be anything else. No one lived here but him.

Or not. Tim. Little pretender. Didn't he die? No, Jason saved him. There were hands propping him up, and Tim was mouthing words at him, but he didn't feel it, couldn't hear it. He saw as Tim pressed a hand to his ear, kept mouthing words that were incomprehensible. Then, he slipped himself under Jason's arm, lifted him up, and started walking.

It took Jason a moment. They were walking, well, Tim was walking and Jason was being dragged, mostly, but they were moving, and why were they heading towards the elevators? "No. Not the Manor..."

Maybe it was the motion moving his blood, or maybe because the hallway was warmer than his apartment, but his ears were working again. "Jason, we have to. You're hypothermic and still recovering from Ivy's poisons."

But Jason was shaking his head. Which was probably an accomplishment. Just a minute ago, he hadn't been able to move at all. "Can't go back. Don't deserve it."

Tim froze. The sudden lack of forward motion almost sent Jason face first onto the floor again, but Tim just tightened his grip on his arm. "What do you mean?"

Jason exhaled, but it might have been a laugh. "Didn't you hear Timmy? I'm a murderer now. The Manor is a place for all the good little Robins." His words slurred, and the spots were back. That one there was a really good dancer.

"No Jason. The Manor is a place for family. And you proved that you still want to be a part of that when you saved me." He rapped Jason lightly on the knuckles. "Now come on. No more arguments. Alfred will probably have some hot chocolate ready and waiting for you."

Hot chocolate. How many years had it been since he'd had Alfred's hot chocolate? Too many. He was probably in withdrawal for the stuff. He probably shouldn't feed this addiction. It would only come back to bite him later when he was forced to sneak back to the Manor on chilly days for a fix.

Eh. Worth it.

But he wasn't.

"Not the Manor." Jason started tugging, pulling in the opposite direction. One particularly violent yank pulled him straight out of Tim's grip. He stood for a moment, two, then his legs gave out.

A hand pressed itself to his forehead. "Ah crap. Jason, you're freezing."

"Th-th-that would be why I f-feel so co- cold then." He gave humor a try, but it didn't seem to work. Tim was still frowning. He really was cold though. Had his bones turned to ice? Had the poison done that? Ivy had turned her skin to chlorophyll, why couldn't she turn someone to ice? Or was that Freeze's thing...?

He was being dragged. Thankfully, away from the elevator. Wait, that meant they were going to his cold apartment. But it was cold in there. So it was either going back to the Manor or freezing in his apartment.

If he was being perfectly honest, he really wasn't up for dealing with this kind of dilemma. He'd been poisoned, had teeny little vines growing in his blood vessels, gotten blown up, walked for an hour through a blizzard, and he'd probably had a concussion from falling on his little table.

So he did the only sensible thing he could.

Probably the smartest thing he had done all day actually.

He passed out.

With a final grunt of effort, Tim managed to get all of Jason's bulk on the bed. Then he went to work. Turn the thermostat up as high as it would go, he could turn it down when it got to be a suitable temperature in here, boil some water for hot drinks, hot face cloths, anything he could use to warm Jason up. Pile a few more blankets he had found in the closet on top of the sick vigilante. And, the most important thing, call Alfred.

Jason's kitchen was surprisingly well stocked. All canned food, and stuff in boxes that wouldn't expire, but really nice. Actually, the entire apartment was surprisingly nice. Tim had been expecting a rat hole. But this was nicer than some of the rooms in the Manor. Not as plush, obviously, and it didn't look lived in, but the furnishings were nice and the decorations were really stylish.

The shrill whistle of the kettle brought Tim out of his appreciation of the decor. He poured some water into a mug, then put the rest into a large bowl. He carried that to the room first, then went back for the hot water. A moment of riffling through Jason's cupboards produced a tin of tea leaves and a tea ball. Alfred had taught him well.

Tea made, he carted it to Jason's room. Jason was out like a light, and Tim hated to wake him, but it had to be done. "Jason?"

Bleary eyes cracked open. They were his regular teal colour, which Tim was incredibly grateful to see. There had been a moment, right before Jason had pushed himself away, when they had turned green. "Jason, can you drink this? It'll help warm you up."

Jason blinked slowly, then again. "Yes...?"

So Tim helped him sit up, propping him up against the headboard, and held the mug while Jason sipped from it. When the drink was done, Tim helped him lay back down. "Alright. Feeling any warmer?" Tim really hoped so. If five blankets didn't lock in the heat, Tim didn't know what would.

The tiny shake of the head was like a blow to the stomach. Why...? He reached a hand inside Jason's blankets. Maybe there was a draft...

Oh.

There was no heat to lock in. If Jason wasn't producing any body heat, then the blankets wouldn't work. The fastest way to raise his body temperature enough for Jason to start radiating his own warmth would be to put another heat source in there. And he didn't think a bowl of water would be very good for that.

Tim was a heat source.

But if he crawled in, Jason would probably shoot him the first chance he got.

Oh well. Wouldn't be the first time.

And so Tim slipped between the top sheet and the comforter, hoping that the added layer would be enough to avoid a bullet. The moment he touched Jason's frigid form, Jason curled into him, instinctively latching onto the heat source.

Tim stayed until Jason felt like he was reaching a more normal temperature, then slipped out. The water in his bowl was cold, so he went to go reheat it.

The apartment was sitting at 85, so Tim turned it down. It would reach room temp on its own. There was a prim knock on the door as Tim was reboiling the water.

"Hey Alfred. Are Bruce and Dick with you?"

"Indeed not. They very nearly caught their deaths in those woods. I insisted that, since Master Jason was found and in relatively decent health, they should stay at the Manor and warm up." Of course he did. Had probably drugged their hot chocolate while he was at it. "Master Jason is in the bedroom?"

Tim nodded, and Alfred took over. He nodded approval at the bowl of hot water, checked Jason's temperature and vitals, woke him up to get a few pills down his throat, pulled a few microwavable hot packs from his bag of tricks and tucked them around Jason once they were warm. Finally, they stood at the stove while Alfred cooked up a batch of hot chocolate.

After a few minutes of silence, Alfred asked. "So, why didn't Master Jason want to return to the Manor?" Not a hint of judgment in his voice, just honest curiosity.

"I'm... not entirely sure." Tim admitted. "He said that he wasn't worth it though. That the Manor was a place for 'good little Robins'," he formed air quotes around the words with his fingers, "and I'm guessing that since he kills criminals, he doesn't think he belongs in the family anymore."

Alfred hmm'd into the cocoa. "Which is ridiculous. If he hadn't wanted to be a part of this family, he would have left you to Ivy."

Tim jumped, and stared at Alfred in shock. "How did you know? I didn't tell anyone!"

"Of course you didn't Master Tim. You are an exceptional secret keeper." The butler kept his gaze on Tim, but the steady stirring of the pot never faltered. "I have a few of my own. I've been meeting Jason for a number of months." And Tim's jaw hit the floor. He probably would have stuttered out questions if he hadn't been speechless. "Mostly to ensure he was being fed, that he was properly clothed and getting medical attention. He inquired of your condition a few days after he blew up Ivy's greenhouse, and told me the story when I prompted him."

"But... how... Does Bruce know?"

"I do not believe so. I normally go out after he has had a long evening and is fast asleep. Of course," he gave a light chuckle, "This has the added benefit of Master Jason being half asleep as well. He is much more talkative when he is tired." A dour expression crossed the old butler's face." And long nights normally mean many injuries, so I have a chance to stitch him up before he allows himself to bleed out."

"Does that happen often?"

"Not terribly. But sometimes he can't reach the injury himself or he can't make it to the first aid kit."

Tim nodded. Made sense. Sometimes he couldn't get back to the Cave after getting injured. Of course, he normally had Batman or Nightwing to come pick him up. Once Batgirl had done some emergency sutures. But Jason had no one. He had to get back to his apartment by himself and hope he didn't pass out on the way.

A low moan came from the bedroom. Alfred practically vanished, appearing at Jason's bedside faster than Tim could follow. "Are you awake Master Jason?"

"Hey Alfie." He sounded a lot better. His words weren't slurring anymore at any rate. "When'd'ou get here?"

"Not too long ago sir. Now let me take your temperature."

"Sure sure. Sounds good." Tim hovered nearby as Alfred checked Jason over. After checking his temperature, which was nearly at normal, he checked his pupils for responsiveness. Apparently, Jason had a concussion and Tim hadn't noticed. Guilt eating at him, he passed Alfred some more pills when asked and watched as Jason obediently swallowed them down and fell back to sleep.

Alfred sigh and straightened. "Right. We'll have to wake him every hour, but he should be back to health in a matter of days. And I mean days. If he were a reasonable person, I would have him in bed for two weeks."

Tim nodded. Knowing Jason, he would try to be up and about tomorrow, let alone the barest minimum he needed to get better. "Any lingering effects from the poison?"

"None that I can see. Muscle weakness if anything." Tim jumped as Alfred rested his hand on his head in a rare gesture of affection. "Good work Master Tim. If it wasn't for you, Master Jason would be dead once more, and several times over." A smile graced the stoic Englishman's features as he went back to the kitchen for tea.

Grabbing a chair from the corner of the room, Tim set it beside Jason and sat himself down, watching as the wayward Robin's chest rose and fell. He was alive. Alive and soon-to-be well. No, their problems weren't over. Jason didn't feel like he belonged in the family anymore, but he clearly wanted to be. Saving Tim, obeying Alfred, he wouldn't have done any of it if he had still been mad at them.

They could work it out. Dick would definitely help. He could be relentless, he wouldn't allow Jason to continue feeling like an outcast. Not for long. They would have to keep Bruce away for a while. Until they could orchestrate a meeting between the two, when both were calm and there were lots of mediating presences nearby. But, hopefully soon, they could bring Jason home.

And snug under his covers, feeling warmer than he had in a long time, Jason smiled.

AN: Phew. That was a monster of a one shot. Fun though. This one came from a prompt from Arrow actually. "Poison Ivy Poisons Red Hood. Horrible things ensue." She did one too, but she didn't want to post it. So as a consolation prize, you all get my seventeen page monstrosity of a one shot. Hooray!

At least this one ended hopefully. Not like Phone Call. Or City Lights. Those ended terribly.

Anyways, read and enjoy people! Loxie OUT!