Jason Todd.

Upon hearing that name, the missing puzzle pieces seemed to connect in his head. But he was still confused about one crucial piece of information that eventually came out.

"But... Didn't you die?"

His eyes flickered slightly, "Yes, but that's another secret, and you would have to trade more for it."

Tim drew back, "Oh, okay."

"Why is Black Mask keeping you?" Jason repeated the question he had asked earlier in exchange for telling Tim about his secret identity.

The boy hesitated, but encouraged by his silence and the fact that he had trusted him, he told him about his predicament. Jason listened closely as Tim told him about his father who was in a coma, the company that had almost gone bankrupt, and his deal with the crime lord to keep his father alive and Drake Corporate afloat.

As his explanation came to a halt, the thoughtful frown on Jason's face only deepened further. He had guessed that Black Mask wanted control over the corporate world through Tim's company, as that could be the only reason for him to use that young boy as a puppet. There had been many cases earlier when crime lords had bought rising businessmen by supporting their firms in return for favors. Tim's case could be no different.

Pulling a company out of debt was no easy task, and the man was investing for the long term in Tim. He had made him the youngest CEO in Gotham, and he was attracting quite a lot of attention at the time. People flocked around him as he seemed to hold the reins of his father's company. Yet in reality, he was just a puppet.

A broken marionette on strings, and by the look on his face, it seemed he was quite aware of it.

Jason felt sorry for the boy with those clear-as-glass eyes, reflecting the helplessness within. "You know he's using you..."

But Tim interrupted him, "What other choice do I have? I stop cooperating, and they pull the plug from my dad's ventilator. I don't want him to die. I don't have the money to keep paying for the hospital bills. I have nothing but my name... What else can I do?"

His pained voice faded into silence, and he looked away in an attempt to hide the tears that had welled up. Even then, he didn't want to appear weak. Even then, he was upholding a legacy that was crushing him underneath.

Sometimes, silence spoke louder than words. Right then, it spoke volumes as Jason realized that the boy in front of him needed help. If no one reached out, he might collapse under the swiftly increasing weight on his young shoulders.

Tim had buried his head in his folded arms, resting on top of his knees drawn close to his chest. He was silent, but Jason could hear the fissures of his soul widening into thin but deep cracks, threatening to shake his existence forever.

He had felt that way too, what seemed like years ago from the present. Seeing Tim go through something similar kindled the sympathy in his heart.

He needed help breaking free from Black Mask, and right then, he needed an anchor to hold onto. When people had no one, they tended to break easily. But knowing they had someone standing with them—even if it was a single person—made the burdens a little easier to bear. Knowing that they had one kindred soul in that world full of strangers became a strength, motivating them to keep fighting.

"I was nineteen when I died," Jason spoke up, his voice breaking that suffocating blanket of silence. "Tortured, burned, and then blown up in a desolate warehouse by the Joker. Some would say it was my fault... In my last moments, I believed that too."

"But you are back now."

"Yes, to finish what started that day." A shadow clouded Jason's face, but he kept his gaze averted from the boy, feeling his eyes curiously search his face for emotion. "I came back as a ghost, and I won't rest until I get my answers and revenge. It wasn't easy to return; I have walked through hell on Earth, yet here I am."

The weight of that secret was heavier than any Tim could reveal himself, and he hoped the man wouldn't ask him another question.

"The point is, kid, you never give up," flecked green stared into blue as he tried to give him the anchor he needed. "Even when everyone lets go, you hang in there and hold on, even if it's just a thread connecting you to your goal. Keep fighting until your last breath, and maybe—just maybe—you'll become strong enough to beat whatever is holding you down."

However, Tim had seen far too much to let words alone sway him. He shook his head, a bitter expression flickering in his eyes as he asked, "Did you beat the Joker?"

The words were sharp enough to cut through him, but his response was firm, "I am going to. He's out of Arkham now, so half of my work is done already."

Tim paused, analyzing that remark. "So Black Mask is just a pawn for you, huh?"

Despite everything, he hadn't lost his sharp mind, and that question, which was more of a statement, confirmed it.

Jason smiled at that acute observation and picked up his helmet as a cue to leave. "You'll see. After all, given the circumstances, you deserve the front seat to my performance."

He looked confused, "what do you mean by that?"

But he didn't answer that question. His phone rang, and he checked his watch as if it was time for him to leave for something very significant.

"I'll be back soon, kid. Don't try to escape while I'm out," he said, putting the helmet back on his head and stepping out the door.

Jason threw him the remote to the television set which he caught but looked back at him in surprise.

"You can watch TV, I recommend the news channel because a live broadcast is going to happen soon. You'll like it."

The door shut behind him and Jason, or rather, the Red Hood was gone.

Tim had a feeling that he was planning a major blowup for Black Mask, Joker and, in fact, the entire Gotham. Even Batman and his vigilantes would get caught up in the chaos of whatever the Red Hood had in mind.

***