"When we have found all the meanings and lost all the mysteries, we will be alone, on an empty shore."

-Tom Stoppard; "Arcadia"

Prologue

His apartment had been vandalized several times over. Jason kicked some of the trash aside and pulled up the badly tacked-down carpeting. There was a pressure switch just to the left of the knotted hardwood and a slice of flooring promptly retracted. The biometric scanner still worked somehow. Jason's prints get him into the secret closet behind the bookshelf.

As he had once told Sasha, the only acceptable selfish use of billionaire funding is to add cliché secret rooms and passages behind every bookshelf.

It looked like his former sidekick remembered that little detail, and Jason was curious as to how she managed to get past the Batman, Inc. security. Scarlet had her ways, he supposed ruefully as he surveyed the closet. His armory had been cleaned out, and lipstick stained his spare helmet—not in the sweet-if-potentially-awkward evidence of a thoughtful kiss for a lost mentor, but rather all over the helmet in crude graffiti.

"Jackass" was written boldly across the forehead, with heavy rouge spots for the cheeks and a few anatomical sketches across the back that were rather good for having been drawn in lipstick on a rounded surface. From its pedestal, the mask stared back solemnly at Jason over the villainous cartoon mustache that had been applied.

Sasha had always been like the kid sister that Jason never had. He wondered if she was still out there after two years on her own; he'd have to ask Barbara if he ever went back to the Cave.

That wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Forced convalescing over the last week had left Jason with a distinct distaste for the Cave, Bruce's suffocating guilt, and Talia's demanding presence. If he didn't have such a healthy fear of Alfred, Jason would have made like Tiny Tim and bolted the second he could feel his legs under him.

Probably straight into a stalagmite or the giant penny, but it was the principle of the thing.

The shakes that came with withdrawal didn't make it any easier to take command of his body again after two years as a glorified puppet. Remembering that he could reach up and sweep his hair out of his eyes or scratch his nose was the hardest part. Remembering was the ticket as the shakes wore off and his limbs stopped reacting with intent to self-maim at the slightest step.

Jason had a lot of respect for his replacement making it out of the Cave without tipping anyone off inside of two hours. They hadn't heard from Tim since—good for the Pretender.

Jason had to sit, puke, and seize until the world righted itself while Talia al Ghul watched apathetically. He hadn't even gotten the privilege of the almighty slap that Stephanie had delivered upon making her first meaningful steps across the Cave.

Jason wondered how long the Robins' carte blanche would last before the big bad Bat put his foot down. It was a passive-aggressive move on Bruce's part to leave Talia's punishment in the hands of her victims, but he was in theory protecting the woman from her Father as they searched for the little runaways. Sooner or later, Batman would lose all patience.

Jason had run out long ago.

There were a few quick notes emanating from Jason's coat pocket—a birdcall on repeat—which Jason couldn't explain. He'd only been back a week, and never got around to replacing his cell phone let alone giving that number out.

It was a nice phone at least, high-tech and with a decent-sized keypad. According to the contact information, "Robbie" is on the line. Jason put the call on speakerphone as he flipped through some of the functions. His address book also has numbers for "Alvin" and "Constance."

"These toys your idea, Dick?" he asked, cutting off any attempt at polite conversation.

"Um, pretty sure it was Tim. We found ours under our pillows."

"Cute trick with the aliases … has he got me under "Miles" or "Rojo?" Jason began messing with the camera settings.

"My contacts are listed under various birds, and Steph's are Disney characters. You're Blue Jay and Aladdin, if you're still curious."

"Not sure if I should be offended or impressed," Jason returned, shuffling through two years of spam in his e-mail. "Was all the sass a pre-puppet thing or is this the baby bird's way of dealing?"

"It's a Tim thing," Dick answered, sounding pained. Jason wasn't known for pulling punches; Dick should be used to it by now. "Look, Jay …"

"I appreciate the Robin-line, Dick. I do, and who knows … maybe I'll use it from time to time," Jason shrugged generously. Probably only when drunk and/or in need of bail money, but he would set the ICE info so that if he gets in over his head, the others will be notified. That was almost team-friendly. "But …"

"Tim left us a text, Jason. He said not to contact him." Jason had spotted that little detail too. "He gave us the means to do so and asked us not to."

"So either listen to the pretender or don't, Goldie. It's not my problem." Jason meant that; Bats were crazy and the headgames never stopped. Jason might be a Bat, might fulfill that crazy requirement, but the world was a whole lot simpler outside the Cave.

"How the heck is the no-kill rule not your very personal problem, Jason Peter Todd?" Dick snapped. "Ra's made him kill again, and Tim needs us right now. You think Bruce is going to understand? Did he understand you?"

"Did you?" Jason hissed back. "If Tim wants us, he knows where to find us. You ever think that might be the reason he gave us the dang phones?"

There was a long moment of silence. Then Dick swallowed. "Tim ran away, and he doesn't always come back whole when he does that, Jay. He's gone, and I don't even know how to talk to Bruce with Talia … just with everything-Talia. And Damian's out there somewhere with the Demon's Head and an extremely dangerous child."

Jason snorted. "Says the man who turned the last assassin baby into a human being."

"What if Ra's is playing with him like Talia says? What if his clone decides he'd rather be with Talia than Damian?"

"I think Damian is the last person to underestimate a baby al Ghul, Dickie-bird," Jason returned matter-of-factly. "And Talia is about as reliable as Ra's al Ghul himself. If the kid is running, I say let him run. It's the first sane choice he's made, and it's the only attempt at self-preservation this family has ever seen."

"He's fourteen years old!"

"So was I," Jason delivered bluntly.

Fourteen and Robin. Fourteen and angry. Fourteen and soon to be fired.

Barely fifteen and dead.

"That doesn't have to be Damian," Dick choked out. "I can't let that be Damian. I can't fail again. Steph and I are heading out tonight. We're going to try to beat Bruce to the boys, and …"

"And what? Go on an adventure, hopping countries or the multiverse until Bats gets bored and stops looking? Bruce is pissed, Dick, and he's got good reasons."

"You don't believe Damian knew what he was doing, Jason."

"No, I don't. And if it makes you feel better, I doubt Tim does either. Talia's a broken record, and even Bruce knows that … but he's not going to get the full story until he finds Damian. So that's the new mission. 'The mission is what matters.' You can't just hide the kid away until everything cools down, Dick. Not this time. Whole world has changed; you'd be better off re-learning how to live in it."

"I can't do that."

"Then it's your funeral. I am done with everything al Ghul." If Jason said it enough times, maybe it would come true. Even villains could have a dream.

"You're not going to help us?" Dick demanded, the hurt in his voice palpable.

Jason grimaced dragging a hand down his face tiredly and leaned back against the wall of his neglected apartment. "Do what? If the baby bats don't want to be found, they won't be."

"We have to try! Damian doesn't even know we survived!"

"And how do you think he's going to take it, Dick?" Jason growled. "Hey, kiddo, we were awake the whole damn time. Saw everything. Heard everything. The communal showers kinda sucked, but hey! As soon as you gave up on us, everything turned out okay."

Dick made a broken noise in the back of his throat. Jason shifted the phone to his other hand and waited for the inevitable scolding filled with hope. Something about it not being Damian's fault and the importance of trying …

"Jay," Dick choked out finally, "you can be a real ass."

Not exactly what the Red Hood had been expecting; Jason shoved the guilt down deep. "Look, if you and Blondie find the kid you can tell him that I said thanks. Or that I'm fucking sorry. I don't know—whatever you think the situation calls for."

"Jason …"

"Yeah, whatever, Dickie-bird," Jason muttered, ending the call and tossing his phone in the general direction of the bed. It sent up a thick cloud of dust. Jason tried to remember the last time he changed the sheets before Talia's little game. Then he exhaled slowly and reached for his defaced helmet.

Only to swear when he dislodged the mouse that had apparently taken to nesting inside it.