Jason crouched down in the alley as the police cars roared past, taking no notice of him. Normally he rarely took missions during the day, but today thanks to a tip from one of his associates he'd nailed the gang of drug dealers in broad daylight. There had been a gunfight, but he'd successfully taken them all down. The police would pick up the pieces.

Pain shot down his right arm, and the man gripped his blood-soaked sleeve with a wince. The bullet wound wasn't serious – nothing he wasn't used to, at least – but it still hindered his movements. He had to get back to his safehouse; and that was not something he could do unnoticed in the day. Besides, it was on the other end of Gotham and he didn't feel like taking the two-hour drive there.

The Red Hood leaned against the wall and considered his other options. He hadn't been to the Manor in years, and showing up now would be just too awkward, so that was out of the question. Roy Harper was out of town, and Kori was off-world. Then he spotted the large skyscrapers reaching into the sky, and an idea crossed his mind.

There was always the Replacement.

If Jason remembered correctly, Tim's penthouse apartment was not far from here, and he could get there easily. The two had never gotten along, (and it didn't help that he'd tried to kill the teenager once or twice,) but it was worth a shot. After all, knowing the kid, he wouldn't be able to kill him if he tried.

Noiselessly the man got on his motorbike and drove into the back streets. It was inconvenient to steer with only his left hand, but not impossible. All the Robins had been trained to be ambidextrous. In about half an hour he made the turn onto the avenue he'd passed multiple times on missions, and Jason spotted the building he was looking for.

After hiding his motorbike in a nearby alley, the Red Hood deftly scaled the structure until he reached the fourth floor and climbed up on the fire escape. There he broke through the lock on the window and climbed inside, careful not to set off any alarms. This was the Red Robin's home, after all – and out of all the members of the family he had the best security systems, even designing ones for Wayne Industries and the Justice League.

A few well-aimed electromagnetic pulse disks and he disarmed the living room where he now stood. The room was large and tastefully furnished with sofas, a few paintings, and a flat-screen TV complete with the old Xbox Jason knew Tim loved as a kid but probably didn't have time to use anymore. The coffee table in the middle of the room held a laptop and piles of neatly stacked reports and paperwork. That kid's only sixteen, and he does all this? The man wondered in disbelief as he glanced over them. Dick would have a heart attack. He figured Tim definitely had a first-aid kit somewhere, but he'd look for it later. Jason flopped down on the couch, ignoring the blood dripping on the rug, and closed his eyes.

He was about to drift off to sleep when his eyes snapped open at the sound of a door opening. The man recognized instantly his brother's light footsteps as the Red Robin walked into the living room and halted a few meters away from him.

Jason decided he might as well get up and save Tim the trouble of confirming whatever he suspected. "What's up, Baby Bird?" he called, poking his head above the sofa.

Tim seemed unfazed; or if he was nervous, he didn't show it. "Jason," he greeted as he set down his briefcase, still keeping a safe distance from the large piece of furniture. "What do you want?"

"I asked you first."

"The usual," the teenager replied with a shrug, his eyes never leaving the older man. "Just had a board meeting with Lucius. I have to finish a few reports." At this he motioned to the piles on the coffee table. "The rest is classified, as you know. Now answer my question."

"You call that a few reports?" The Red Hood wrinkled his brow slightly. Tim did not answer, his ice blue eyes still focused on his own. He was a lot more slim than Jason remembered, almost tiny in comparison to his bulk. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Have you heard of the Combat Eighteen gang?" he asked gruffly. The kid nodded. "Took them down this morning. Got a bullet to the arm, didn't feel like going home yet. So I figured, what the hell, I might as well pay you a visit since I was in the area."

Tim pursed his lips as his brow furrowed in thought, and Jason could almost see the cogs in his head turning; calculating the threat, planning an escape plan and probably several other strategies, and rearranging his carefully timed schedule. After less than a minute he looked up and nodded again. "If you stay," he warned, "You have to play by my rules." The kid pointed to his brother's gun belt. "Guns outside. And no blowing things up."

"Fair enough." Jason unbuckled his gun belt and took it out on the balcony. He had other weapons on him anyway. When he returned, Tim had left the room. Nonchalantly he sat back down and took off his jacket and boots, making himself at home now that he was allowed to stay. Just as he was beginning to think Tim had holed up somewhere, his younger brother returned carrying the first-aid kit, having changed from his expensive suit to a plain T-shirt and jeans.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered as he opened the kit. Jason complied and leaned back on the sofa as Tim's thin fingers ran carefully over the injury, treating it quickly and efficiently while causing as little pain as possible.

"You know," the Red Hood commented as he watched him, "I'd have expected you to throw me out by now. Not that I want you to, but…"

"Not much point, is there?" the kid interrupted, his eyes lifting to meet his momentarily. "You'll be back on the field soon either way. Besides, we were both Robins, right? You may be a jackass, but when I think about it…we're not really that different after all."

That was true, especially with the recent turn of events that had torn their family apart and stripped Tim of his title of Robin, causing him to go rogue for several months. Jason still remembered the bitter sting when he'd literally come back from the dead, only to find he had been forgotten and his role replaced by the boy next to him, as if the Batman no longer cared about him. When everything happened and Tim left Gotham, he'd felt at first a mean sense of gratification that the replacement had been replaced himself, but as time passed he'd also felt sorry for him. He knew how it felt to be tossed away, discarded for someone better.

Well, now Tim was accomplishing much more as the Red Robin and CEO of Wayne Enterprises than he'd ever done while Robin - which was better than what Jason was doing – but he still figured it must have been a difficult transition.

The least he could do was not give the kid any trouble while here.

"There." Tim finished stitching him up and wrapped his arm in a neat bandage. "Don't use it too much for two weeks at least and it should heal. Is there anything else?" Jason shook his head. "Not bad," he said approvingly, then packed up the kit and went to put it away.

Then his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten all morning. "Got any food?" he called after him.

"Kitchen's right outside, to your left. Help yourself," the kid yelled back.

Taking care not to jolt his arm too much, the Red Hood got up, sauntered over to the large kitchen and opened the fridge. His heart sank. "Replacement! There's no beer! How do you survive?"

"I'm a minor, Jay! I practically live on coffee!"

There were at least three coffee makers in that room, and the fridge was stacked with energy drinks. Jason made a mental note not to ask him what kind of horrific concoctions he made with the two as he closed the fridge door. Tim walked in, ignoring his brother's stare as he opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of white rice. Just as the older man opened his mouth to ask if he was seriously going to eat that, the teenager ripped open a packet of Goldfish crackers, poured about half of the contents into the bowl, grabbed a fork, and went back to the living room.

This was just not right. Jason furrowed his brow and opened the door to the room, where Tim had settled back in front of his piles of paperwork and was working through them while eating at the same time. His jaw dropped in horror.

"Seriously?! How the fu-"

"Language, Jay," Tim reprimanded, not taking his eyes off the reports he held.

Jason smacked his forehead. "I can't condone this, Replacement! It's unbelievable!"

"So is breaking into my apartment and bleeding on my couch," the kid replied dryly. "Yet here you are."

"You are eating white rice and Goldfish! What kind of a sick diet is that?"

"I will put Goldfish in anything. Now shut up; I'm trying to concentrate."

The Red Hood slumped back on the couch, his lip curled into a frown. If Alfred were here to see this, he'd have a heart attack. And Bruce would have a thing or two to say to his Robin as well.

Except Bruce wasn't here anymore. Tim believed he was still alive, and Jason didn't feel like shooting down that hope, but that was not the issue. And Dick was busy with his role as the new Batman – too busy to check in on his precious Timmy-bird, anyway. Which meant…

No way, his mind argued. He's not my problem. He glanced back at his brother, who worked painstakingly at all hours without complaint to reach a quota most adults never reached in their lives. Who despite all he'd gone through, still bravely kept on fighting to protect Gotham, like the Batman would have wanted.

Unlike him.

Oh, what the hell. I'm here anyway. He could feel his brotherly instincts taking over. Jason got up and placed his good hand on his hip.

"Timothy Jackson Drake!" The boy's head snapped up at the voice, and his eyes narrowed.

"What now?"

"I'm not letting you ruin yourself with a dumb-ass diet like that." Jason turned and strode off to the kitchen. "I'm making you a good meal with meat and vegetables and you are going to eat it! Your scrawny little ass is gonna die with your habits!"

"Jay, I can take care of myself!" The man could hear the frustration in his brother's voice. "If you don't have anything better to do, you can just leave!"

"Not happening, kiddo." He pulled out several cutting boards from a drawer and began raiding the fridge while mentally sorting through his list of recipes he'd picked up from Alfred. Pain shot up his arm again, and he resorted to using his left hand for most of the work.

"Why do you have so much peanut butter and instant ramen?" Jason yelled after checking the cupboards.

"Shut up!" There was a rustling noise from the living room, and the man let a satisfied smirk flash across his face. He could tell his brother was getting annoyed. "I'll…I'll call Dick!"

"Ooh, I'll call Dick and he'll come save me from big bad Jason and his amazing cooking skills!" The Red Hood mimicked in a sing-song voice. "Call whoever you like; just let me know who's coming. That way I'll know how much food to make."

Seething inwardly at this abnormal invasion of his privacy, Tim couldn't concentrate on his work. It was one thing to let his assassin brother in and patch him up – and that was partly because the teenager had been in a good mood after the successful board meeting – but it was another thing entirely to let him take over his house just because he sometimes was too busy or pre-occupied to fix himself a proper meal.

Okay, most of the time. But still.

Besides, this wasn't like Jason at all. Normally the older man didn't give two bits whether he lived or died; and would probably have been more than happy to see him dead. And now here he was, being civil to his brother for once, and had Tim known better, he would have thought Jason actually showed concern for him.

None of this made sense. Not that it was a surprise – things were rarely sane for long in Gotham – but it still irritated him.

Determinedly he picked up his phone and dialed the number he hadn't called in several months. The Red Robin hesitated a moment, then held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello, Dick Grayson here. Who is this?"

"Hey, Dick," Tim greeted, smiling faintly.

"Timmy!" He could hear his brother yell on the other end. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Look, I need to ask a favor. Jason's here…in my house."

"What? He's with you? Are you hurt? I swear, if he laid a single finger on you -"

The teenager rolled his eyes. "I said I was fine, remember? He's docile, strangely. And he's taken over my kitchen. I need you to come help me kick him out."

There was a pause. "He's…cooking?"

"Yes! So are you coming or not?"

"You kidding? Of course I'm coming!"

"Thanks," he replied gratefully.

"It's been so long since I've tasted Jay's cooking! You've never tried it, Tim, but you're in for a treat – he's really good! I bet even Alfred would want to come! I'll go ask him! Oh, and can I bring Damian?"

Tim barely stopped his jaw from dropping. "You're…happy about it?"

"Well, duh! You're so wonderful to make him take it up again. I'll be over there in, say, an hour? Tell Jason to make enough for all of us! We can bring dessert!"

"Wait, but…"

"I'll see you later!" With that, there was a click as Dick hung up.

The Red Robin could only gape at the phone for a few moments, then he set it down and glanced at the kitchen. He could already hear his older brother busy at work. "Dick, Damian and Alfred are coming!" he yelled. "Last chance to beat it!"

There was a silence, and Tim wondered if Jason was going to leave after all. "I'll make more then," he replied simply. "Thanks for the heads-up, Replacement." Then he went back to work.

Tim shook his head and leaned back on the sofa with a reluctant sigh. If Jason - who had avoided the family for several years now – could stand a reunion no matter now awkward it might be, then he could as well. So long as Damian behaved himself, it might even be enjoyable. He stood up and stretched his back, then picked up his reports and began clearing up the living room.

"You should take a shower," he said, poking his head into the kitchen. "They'll be here in an hour. I still have some of Dick's shirts you could borrow."

Jason looked up from where he was stirring a pot of vegetable soup. "'Kay, just give me half an hour to get everything cooking. An hour's tight, but I think I can make it."

After showering Jason returned to the kitchen, where he had three trays of potatoes, vegetables and turkey roasting in the oven and soup simmering on the stove. The apartment was filled with the aroma of cooking food, and the man smiled in satisfaction as he checked the two and then began tossing a salad.

Tim entered and looked around, evidently surprised at Jason's work. "Dick never told me you could cook," he commented.

The Red Hood shrugged. "There's a lot Dick didn't tell you about me," he replied nonchalantly. "Set the table, will you?"

His kid brother took out a stack of plates from a cabinet and began setting them out on the table. "Um, Jay…could you leave me the recipes you used? So I can make them too?"

"Sure, Baby Bird. Just leave me a notepad or something." Jason finished the salad and carried it to the table while Tim finished arranging the silverware and napkins. Suddenly the doorbell rang. A split second of panic flashed through the man, and he motioned for the kid to open the door.

"TIMMY-BIRD!" The Red Robin had barely opened the door before Dick burst in and hugged him so hard he nearly toppled over. Behind him Damian strode in without sparing the two a second glance.

Taking a deep breath, Jason smoothed his hair back and left the safety of the kitchen.

"I swear, I followed my nose the entire way!" Dick enthused. His eyes lit up as he spotted the second Robin. "Heeey, Jason! I can't wait to taste your food again!"

"Glad you think so highly of it, Golden Boy." The man smiled nervously. "Hey, Alfred. It's great to see you again."

"It's a pleasure to see you as well, Master Jason." Alfred gave him a kind smile and patted his shoulder. Tim squirmed uncomfortably in Dick's grasp, and finally managed to get himself free.

"So…" he began awkwardly, "What did you bring for dessert?"

Damian begrudgingly held up a box, which Alfred took to the kitchen. "Chocolate fudge cake!" Dick squealed excitedly. "Is the food ready, Jay?"

"Almost." Jason turned to retreat back to the kitchen. "You guys can start on the vegetable soup – the main course should be ready by the time you're done."

The boys all sat down at the kitchen table, and once Alfred had said grace fell to like only hungry teenagers will. Dick kept yelling how good the food was every few minutes, and Jason made sure Tim's plate was always filled. Damian didn't bother to say a word to any of them but just focused on stuffing himself; the Red Hood noted proudly that the boy didn't complain once.

"You know, I thought you were supposed to kick Jason out, not plan a dinner party," Tim remarked as he pushed away his plate after what seemed like forever.

Dick let out a contented belch and sigh. "I couldn't resist, okay? It's not every day I get to go gourmet."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not suggesting I check on the state of your diet too."

"He lives on cereal and sandwiches!" Damian interjected for the first time.

"I don't have time to cook, okay?" the first Robin protested. "And I don't like disturbing Alfred when he's got so much to do already…but I'll try to do better," he admitted after catching a glare from Alfred.

"Perhaps if you actually bothered to stay around at meal times, you would not have to make do with such a miserable diet, Grayson."

"Guys, chill. Damian, no fighting please. Dick, don't make me come back to the Manor and help Alfred feed you proper. And Tim…" at this he fixed a steady gaze on the teenager, "I hope you've learned your lesson."

The kid nodded and added, "I guess it's alright…having everyone here, I mean. Thanks, Jason. I missed this."

"Awww…" Dick smiled and reached over to ruffle up Tim's hair. "Me too, Bird. Me too. You need to drop by the Manor more often, 'kay?"

"I will, if I have time." The Red Robin got up and began stacking up the dirty dishes, but was stopped by Alfred.

"Don't worry about the dishes, Master Tim," he said with a smile. "I will take care of it."

Tim thanked him and turned to face the other three. "Do you guys want to watch a movie or something? I have a pretty good collection."

"Sure!" Jason strode back to the living room followed by the other three and began digging through Tim's shelf of DVDs. After a great deal of discussion they managed to choose one they all liked and settled down to watch it.

The Red Hood looked around at his brothers around him - Tim sitting on his right, Dick and Damian on his left - and even though it was the last place he'd expected to be that night, it somehow felt like the right place. Tomorrow he would probably leave, Dick and Damian would continue their vigilante lives, and Tim would most likely go on working himself to death. But for now, just for tonight, there were no missions to carry out; no moral boundaries separating the four of them.

Right now, they could just stay together.

Because they were family.