Purpose

Dipped

Tim and Dick join Jason in the kitchen. Tim claps him on the shoulder, "Good speech," he says.

Jason's hackles raise, and he glares, but before he can get a word in, Dick interrupts, "It was," he says with much more sincerity. Jason glances at him. His body bends, arms crossed, as he leans against the counter, head bowed in thought. "There's something about you two . . ." He shrugs, "You've just always had an unspoken connection. In my eyes, at least."

"Me and that kid have barely kept from killing each other since day one," Jason says back, no longer hostile. He's confused. The civility between himself and Damian at the moment is new, and potentially fragile. Jason is waiting for Damian to snap back, to return to his arrogant nature, and fill the sentences between them with insults. He doesn't expect the peace to last, and it hasn't before.

"Not that kind of connection," Dick says. "It's like . . ." He trails off, making a face as he searches for the word. Finally, he presses his lips together, and says, "Well, death."

Jason feels himself nodding. A potato is in his hand, his other expertly cubing it with a thick knife as he thinks. He throws the pieces into a large pot of water, considering his littlest brother's connection to death. Is Dick referring to the fact that Damian has died, too? Or is it that Damian and Jason have both killed? Either way, Jason still isn't sure what Dick is getting at. He glances behind his shoulder, "Aiight we got a connection. How cute. What of it?"

Dick looks up at him, and shrugs, "I mean I've comforted Damian before, but I can relate to his mother's death. This kind of thing, this resentment from Bruce . . . I can't relate to, and, while it's unfortunate, you can. You said it all yourself." Dick shrugs. "I'm just agreeing with Tim. I think it was well said."

Jason nods again. He continues chopping potatoes, displeased to watch the whole bag get cut up and thrown into the pot. Usually, he just cooks for himself. After this, he'll have to go shopping again. As he works, he says, "Tell me 'bout what happened with that fight at his school."

Tim sits at the table in the corner, and, at Jason's request, he shrugs, "I assume the kid insulted Damian, and of course Damian retaliated. Bruce was leaving the office early, and went by the school to pick him up. When he got there, Damian was standing over a boy with a bloody nose. Bruce said it wasn't broken, so I guess it could have been worse, but he kicked him off Robin immediately."

"You said there's been others?" Jason prompts.

"An incident with a locker, another in the gym, several disciplinary notices for mouthing off at teachers," Dick lists, waving his hand. "This was kind of the final straw. Maybe he was rightfully punished, but, clearly, it's gone on too long. Alfred and Tim kept mentioning his isolation and unhappiness. I tried talking to Bruce with Alfred,  but-"

Dick glances at Tim, and suddenly, everyone's on the same page. After listening to Tim's concerns about Bruce's behavior, they'd been theorizing.

"But he isn't the same," Jason finishes grimly. He sets the pot on the stove top to boil, preheating the oven and turning to grab chicken legs out of the fridge. "We have to tell Damian."

Dick shakes his head, but not at Jason's words. He's baffled, "Bruce doesn't ignore straight fact. He is different. He seemed so . . . dismissive of it all. Like he couldn't be bothered."

"He never reconsidered his decision about Robin," Tim adds. "He acted like it was final."

Jason raises a brow, "Right, well can we all agree with Timbo here, then? I think we've established that it's not the same guy. Bats would never eliminate Robin."

"Not over this," Dick says.

Tim shakes his head, "And we shouldn't act yet." Jason rolls his eyes. He wants to scream at Tim and Dick, to get Alfred out of there, but he sees the sense in it. If Batman isn't Batman, then their first priority has to be finding him, and pretending like they don't know anything's amiss is their best bet at figuring out the truth, and remaining undetected.