Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Tim would lay awake and think. Not about anything in particular, but after a day full of work and patrol and juggling the different masks he wore, his brain wouldn’t quite know how to turn off all the way.

Some nights, he would think back to his days spent with Red Tornado and the Young Justice team. He missed them dearly. They always seemed to understand exactly what he needed, but years have passed and they’d grown apart. Nothing gold can stay after all.

Some nights, he would think back to his early Robin days with Bruce and Dick and Alfred, and how naive he was to think so little of Jason’s career as Robin.

Some nights, he would think about his relationship with Stephanie. When they were good, they were so good. But then, but then what happened? He couldn’t even really tell. He still loved her with everything in him, but after her ‘death’ they were never quite the same. Perhaps it was because she was his first love.

Tonight however, tonight Tim was awake and thinking about his relationship with Damian. He loved the gremlin. Deeply. However, they never seemed to be able to stay on the same page. The days that Tim can find the effort to practice patience and kindness with him, seemed to be the same days that Damian is running on the world's shortest fuse. And that would cause him to feel petty and vindictive as a result and then Damian would feel guilty and try to make it up and then the cycle would start all over again. It’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. At the end of the day, he shouldn’t be dependent on the fourteen-year-old to be the one putting forth the effort to fix their relationship. Then he’ll think back to how he was at 14 and decide that the kid could use some more responsibility, but that isn’t quite right either. Damian has been through more than he could possibly understand. He’s earned the right to be a little shit, but by God, does he abuse that privilege. 

Tim scrubs his face as he sits up and turns on his bedside lamp. His body aches. Judging by how the balls of his feet are killing him, it's time to replace the soles of his boots. He sometimes regrets not moving back into the manor when Bruce came back. It would’ve been so easy to. But everywhere he went, it felt as if the Ghost of Christmas Past wouldn’t stop following. And why leave it to just one ghost to haunt him after all? The present and the future both have opportunities in his nest. Besides, birds are made to fly. 

Checking his phone, Tim briefly notes that he’s only been laying down for about 50 minutes. Maybe he should actually lay back down. But then he sees an email from Jeffery Tran, who he’s been working with on a new model of rebreathers for public use, and decides that he can take a cat nap later in the day. 

Good Morning Mr. Drake-Wayne,

I deeply appreciate your feedback on the pricing for the new rebreather masks. It is certainly good practice to have the consumers in mind when debating such a topic. Below you can find the schematics for the filter that I am hoping to incorporate into the new prototype. There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that this filter has been tested against an array of contagions, including ones similar to the ones that the rogues in this city seem fond of using and have passed these tests with flying colors. The bad news is that these filters would raise the production price by about $5 per unit. Certainly, this is a cost that WE could absorb, however, it would limit the amount that production could make in each batch. It would definitely be wiser to be able to produce more, so more people would have access to the mask. Perhaps it would be best to set up a meeting with the board to finalize the details. I’ll have my secretary reach out to yours in order to get the ball rolling. 

With Regards, 

Jeffery Tran

Chief Financial Officer

Wayne Enterprises

Flicking on his kitchen lights, Tim places his phone down and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes until starbursts of colors make their way across his vision, and then for a moment longer. Tran is an extremely smart man and he is very valued by Lucius for his awareness of the bottom line of the company. But the unfortunate thing about this trait of his is that he doesn’t seem to grasp that sometimes helping the people of Gotham, by say, providing cheap rebreathers, comes before making WE more money. Double sided swords and all of that. This is why Tim prefers to stay within his R&D bubble, where he doesn’t have to go toe-to-toe with grown men to defend the principles of what WE was built upon. Sighing deeply, Tim pulls his hair into a bun and moves to his fridge to grab a turmeric shot and some eggs. He misses his Zesti’s but after undergoing an impromptu splenectomy by Ra’s, his sugar consumption was one of the first changes he had to make. Setting some water to boil, and pulling out some bread for toast, Tim begins to make his breakfast. It’s easy to get lost in the monotony of making food. It’s in the middle of slicing an avocado that he hears his apartment's sensor alarm go off. He adds a couple extra eggs to the water and pulls out the apple juice he keeps in his fridge for just this occasion. 

“Dami, I know I gave you a key, there’s no reason to set off the alarm every time you decide to come by.”

“Wrong brother. And I’m hurt, I don’t get a key of my own?”

Tim’s head snaps up at the sound of Jason’s voice. He is too tired to hide his confusion, different scenarios whipping through his head that would warrant Jason to visit him. Off of a cursory glance, Jason doesn’t seem to be in need of a medical patch-up. There are no open cases that he has that Jason would want to poke his nose into, and actually, Jason appears to be in civies, so why- 

“Why are you here?” Tim furrows his brow, and turns around to place the apple juice back into the fridge. 

“Youch, way to make a guy feel special Timbers.”

Pulling out bacon, Tim heaves a sigh. It’s way too early for him to play nice and he’s way too tired to allow Jason to rile him up.

“Not what I meant and you know it, Jay. You’re always welcome here. You hungry? I can put some bacon into the oven for you if you want, I also think there may still be some cereal or pop-tarts from when Dick dropped by last week if that’s more your speed. I will say I only have oat milk, though. Oh, I also have cream of wheat if that’s how you're feeling.”

Jason sneers at the mention of the cream of wheat.

 “You know I’ll never turn down some bacon. I don’t know how you eat cream of wheat, grits is the better option out of warm cereal but it’s all fucking nasty in my humble opinion.” 

Walking around to the fridge, he gets a water bottle and then proceeds to hoist himself up to sit on the countertop next to the stove to peer into the pot Tim has on.

“Boiled eggs? Really? When did you turn 50 Tim, Jesus.”

“Thou Shalt Not Take Thy Lord’s Name in Vain. Seriously, to what do I owe the pleasure of having your critiques on my diet this fine morning?” Tim gives Jason a pointed look, trying to imbue as much Alfred as possible to get Jason to admit to why he’s stopping by at 6:17 in the morning. He must do a decent job of it, because Jason seems to be slightly cowed. 

“I…I uh. Ineedyourhelponacase .” The last part of the sentence comes out as one word, as if saying it faster would perhaps change the words spoken. 

“Seriously? This couldn’t wait until tonight?” Tim places a tray of bacon into the oven when it beeps at him. He frowns, remembering he was also making toast. Pulling it out of the toaster, now slightly cold. He withholds another sigh and starts to spread his avocado onto it.

“What’s the case?”

“So you’ll help?” Jason sounds doubtful, which makes Tim feel slightly off-kilter. He and Jason don’t have the best history, but he thinks they’ve been getting along rather well as of late. 

“Pull those eggs off the heat, I want them to still be soft in the middle. And I haven’t agreed yet, but what’s the case? I don’t have a whole lot going on in the mask department but there’s a WE project that’s been taking up a lot of time.”

“Yessir.” Jason throws up a mock salute and leans over the stove to move the eggs to a different burner. He hops off the counter to properly turn the stove off and checks the oven to gauge how his bacon is coming along. 

Walking around the counter to throw his water bottle away, Jason snags an orange off the counter to start peeling, taking a moment to focus on his orange before huffing.

“It’s kinda complicated. There’s been a few working girls in my area who have disappeared. It’s nothing that would usually pull my attention, I mean people disappear from Crime Alley all the time. Sometimes to better places, sometimes their addictions pull them under. But.” 

Here Jason pauses, placing his orange down to rub the bridge of his nose. Looking up towards the ceiling as if pulling his patience from it, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “But they all have kids. All of them younger than ten. When I went to check out where the system put them, it’s as if they don’t exist. Like their birth records are completely erased.”

“So you’re thinking, what, it’s a trafficking scheme?”

Jason offers a slice of orange that Tim happily accepts. It reminds him of his turmeric shot that he has yet to take. He instead opts to pull the eggs out of the water and place them into an ice bath. He checks on the bacon and pulls that out as well. Getting a few plates out, he loads up one with bacon and the other with his avocado toast and both with a couple eggs. Tim walks them over to his dining nook. Jason follows with his orange, and surprisingly, Tim’s turmeric shot in hand and sits down. 

“That was my first thought, yeah. But if it’s happening, no one in my circle has heard of it. And I mean no one. I’ve even reached out to some contacts that would’ve been interested in buying from them to see if they’ve heard of a new circle that’s popped up.”

“And what exactly do you need my help with?”

“Honestly, I don’t fucking know. I guess just having another set of eyes on this case would help.” Jason places half of his orange on Tim’s plate and nudges the health shot towards him as well. Wrinkling his nose, Tim opens it and downs it quickly. He follows it with a couple orange slices to get the taste out of his mouth and pulls his knees up to his chest.

“Yeah, I get that. I can take a look for sure. Missing street girls and missing children is definitely not good. The missing birth records are weird. That would require enough organization on their side for a hacker or for someone on the inside. Either way it suggests they’re directly targeting these women.”

Through a mouthful of bacon, Jason agrees with him. “Taking the words right outta my mouth Timbo” 

Tim’s mouth forms into a sneer as he sees chewed bacon and egg peak through Jason’s lips. 

“Fucking close your mouth, I know Alfred taught you better than that. Nasty.”

Jason smirks, but closes his mouth and swallows. He uses his plate to collect the few egg shells that escaped during his meal before standing to place all of it into the sink. He then proceeds to grab one more water bottle from the fridge and downs it in one chug. He shoots it into the trash can as he walks through the kitchen to flop onto the couch. 

“This is a shitty couch, where’s the fucking cushion?” Jason’s voice comes out muffled from the pillow he has his face shoved into. 

“It’s a twenty five hundred dollar couch, so please get your nasty shoes off of it”

Jason pulls his head up and shoots Tim a bewildered look and immediately pulls his feet up.

“Twenty five hundred? Jesus Tim”

Tim raises his eyebrows and polishes the last of his toast off. Mirroring Jason’s earlier actions, he clears his plate and joins Jason on the couch. Snagging a tablet from a side table, he opens it up to his emails. 

“I think looking into how they’re deleting the records is the best lead you’ve got right now, unless you’ve been able to spot a pattern into how they’re choosing these women?”

Jason is in the middle of taking off his boots as he nods along. “Yeah, I think following that trail makes the most sense. I haven’t gotten too much from asking around unfortunately. No matching repeat clients or any new programs that they were all partaking in.”

“Got it. I’ll look into it when you send those files over. Feel free to put something on if you’re staying, I need to go through some emails for WE.” Tim stands and tosses the remote to Jason before retreating to his office. After turning on a lamp, Tim collapses into his desk. Allowing the tablet screen to darken, his mind blessedly goes blank for a few moments. Leaning forward to place his head onto the cool wood, Tim forces himself to push thoughts of Tran’s stubbornness, Jason’s new case, and his mess of a relationship with Damian out of his conscious mind. Following his small reprieve, he sits up and slaps his cheek a few times before pulling himself closer to the desk and getting to work. 

Tim woke up with a start. The first thing he noticed was how much his neck hurt, although seeing as he fell asleep at his desk again he supposed that made sense. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, he looked around for what woke him up. It was his apartment’s proximity alarm. Blowing out a harsh breath, Tim duly noted that it was now 11:24 am. Yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he walked out to greet whoever was breaking into his apartment. He was greeted by Damian pulling the apple juice out of his fridge. His backpack and Gotham Academy jacket was tossed haphazardly by the still open window. Leaning against his office’s door frame, he opted to observe the younger kid for a few moments before announcing his presence. Damian proceeded to shuffle around the kitchen, prepping what seemed to be sliced apple with peanut butter. 

“Your stealth work needs more training Timothy. I can feel you tracking my movements.”

“Skipping school kid? I thought that was my thing.”

“Tt. I am merely…taking a break. I will return.” 

“Sure you will. That’s why you're halfway across town making yourself a snack in my kitchen.” Tim pushed off the doorframe, leaving Damian alone in the kitchen to go to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth to get the slimy feeling off his teeth, then grabbed a few ibuprofen as well as his daily antibiotic, using the tap water to take them. Coming to terms with the fact that today was apparently a day that his brothers would be bogarting his home, he decides to send Dick a quick text. 

To Marcia

>any reason im having a bat infestation 2day? r u planning to drop by 2?

“Dames, I'm going to shower real quick, can you order some lunch for us? There should be some cash in-“

Damian cut him off, “In the drawer by the fridge. Yes, believe it or not, I do have a good memory. Do you have a preference for Thai or sushi today?”

Rolling his eyes, Tim started to strip and yelled back “Let’s do sushi. Thai sounds too greasy right now. Just make sure to order two things of edamame, you hogged them last time”

Since he didn’t hear a reply, Tim could only assume that Damian heard him. As the water heated up, his phone buzzed on the counter. 

From Marcia

<??? Should I be planning to? I think little D and Bruce got into it last night. He called me but I wasn’t able to answer. I’ll call him in 20, been a bit busy with the Titans.

To Marcia

>dont bother, hes here now. ill weasel it out of him. j stopped by 2, guess he needs help w a potential trafficking case. 

From Marcia

<Aren’t you Mr. Popular. Sounds good, let me know if you need help wrangling them. Love you! 

To Marcia 

>luv u too d

Tim placed his phone down and stepped into his shower. There weren’t many luxuries that Tim felt he couldn’t live without, but his shower was definitely one of them. The heat and the water pressure seemed to ease his physical aches almost immediately. He worked through his routine as quickly as possible, knowing that the longer he left Damian to stew, the harder it would be to get any information out of him. 

By the time he had gotten out of the shower and changed into fresh sweatpants and an old shirt of Bruce’s, Damian had the dining table set up with the ordered food. Two containers of edamame, salmon nigiri, and tamago nigiri were set up, along with two seltzer waters. Damian was seated already, with a pensive look on his face. Tim slipped into his seat and began to eat. Even though he told Dick he would help Damian, he now felt at a loss. He was already anxious about their dynamic from his thoughts this morning, and he didn’t really know how to start a conversation without it coming across as accusatory. Tim understood he was many things, but tactful was definitely not one of them. Thankfully, it appeared as Damian simply needed the space to be able to speak. 

“Father has benched me for the time being. I was wondering what you typically do to earn his favor back.” Damian’s eyebrows were pinched and his mouth was brought into a thin line. If Tim wasn’t sitting at the same table eating the same food, he would’ve guessed Damian had just eaten a lemon. It must’ve been a pretty big fight for Damian to outright ask for help. Usually, they had to dance around the topic a few times before getting to the advice stage. Swallowing his bite, Tim thought over how he handled his fights with Bruce. 

“Well, I guess that depends on what happened for you to think you lost it?”

“He claims I am… untrustworthy.”

Tim felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. A tale as old as time, Bruce having trust issues. 

“What happened?” Damian placed his chopsticks down and folded his hands in his lap. He had yet to really make eye contact with Tim but even without it, Tim could feel the waves of insecurity rolling off the kid.

“We got into an argument over how to best proceed with a case. There is a meta who is residing in Crime Alley. I only became aware because I overheard Father talking with the League about how to best extradite them. After this conversation ended, I suggested to Father that he should bring Todd into the loop because it is his territory and he may be of use in the mission. Father then claimed that I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, as if it was my fault he had the conversation in the Cave at the same time that I was training. He claimed that his business was none of Todd’s concern and while I usually agree with him, this meta’s powers are… different. They are stronger than they know. More testing is required but it appears as if they are able to make people disappear with a simple touch. Whether they are killing them or sending them to a different dimension ceases to be seen.” 

Tim leaned back in his chair and blew out a long breath. He closed his eyes and started to chew on his bottom lip. That was one item crossed off his to-do list. If this meta was touching the working girls, and potentially erasing them out of existence, it would make sense for their children to also be disappearing. 

“And how did this lead to B benching you?”

“Tt. As I said, we got into an argument. Things have been tense at the Manor since Pennyworth’s… passing. Father made some points about how if I couldn’t be trusted to protect Pennyworth then I couldn’t be trusted to work at his side as Robin”

Damian’s voice wavered at the end of his sentence, and for the first time in a long time, Tim felt the weight of being an older sibling. Opening his eyes, he pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross in his chair. He knew he needed to get a lid on his anger so Damian didn’t think that it was aimed at him. 

“Damian…” Tim started speaking slowly, trying to be very intentional about his word choices. “Has anyone told you that it wasn’t your fault that Alfred died? The only person responsible for that is Bane.” Tim ducked his head, trying to force Damian to make eye contact. He needed to know that the kid had been told this, that someone had at least tried to remove this weight from his shoulders. If even Atlas struggles to hold the weight of the world, a fourteen year old child shouldn’t be asked to do the same. Damian wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Tim could see the unshed tears sitting in them nonetheless. 

“Kid…” 

Damian shook his head fiercely, his lips wobbling. When he spoke next, there was an undeniable sorrow to it.

“It was. It was my fault. Batman could have stopped it, and I am his son. I should have stopped it.”

Tim stood up, his chair scraping against the floor and walked over to pull Damian into a tight embrace. The fact that he didn’t even attempt to stop it was proof of how hurt he really was. Tim could feel two wet spots form on his t-shirt. Damian’s breath became ragged, his shoulders shaking with each one. 

“Why couldn’t I stop it? Why- Why wasn’t I- I wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t I enough?” Damian clutched the back of Tim’s shirt, his small body being racked with sobs. Tim pulled Damian off of his chair and sat on the floor with him in his lap. Stroking his hair, Tim did his best to soothe his little brother. Rocking them slightly, Tim allowed his mind to race. Bruce yelled at Damian. Bruce made Damian think it was his fault that Alfred died. Damian felt the need to skip class so he could break down. Damian felt safe enough to break down in his apartment, with him. Bruce had the audacity to bench Damian because he thought what, Damian would let Bruce be hurt? What exactly was he thinking? How would benching Damian help anything? Why was he the first to tell Damian that it wasn’t his fault? 

Tim didn’t know how long he sat on the floor with Damian, but by the time he could feel Damian get his breath back under control, his ass had gone numb. 

“Dames? You back with me?” Tim tried to keep his voice soft, not wanting to make Damian feel ashamed. He felt Damian nod against his chest and decided that was probably the best he was going to get. 

“Why don’t you go take a nap? I know you know how comfy my bed is. I’ll bring you some tea.” 

Without speaking, Damian let go of Tim’s shirt and used the table to pull himself to his feet. He moved quietly as he made his way to Tim’s room and shut the door. As soon as Damian was out of sight, Tim placed his head in his hands and went through every single curse word he knew in French and Portuguese before using the table to haul himself to his feet. He robotically went through making Damian some chamomile tea. He knocked at the door before letting himself in. Damian was fully under the covers, and had drawn the blinds shut.

“Hey, I’m gonna set your tea right here on the table okay? I’d like you to drink some of it, I know crying can really dehydrate you. I’m going to run out to the store because it appears as if I’m fresh out of pecan praline ice cream and I think today definitely calls for it. I’ll be back in an hour tops, kay?” He was surprised to see Damian shoot a thumbs up out from under the covers. He huffed out a small laugh and tapped where he thought Damian was laying down. As he reached the door, he turned back to speak to Damian. 

“I love you Dames. I meant what I said okay? Alfred’s death was not your fault. It wasn’t. I swear on his grave. He would never want you to think that either. He knew what he was getting into by staying.”

Closing the door softly, he made quick work of gathering his coat, wallet, keys, and getting his shoes on. He had no idea if he was actually out of their shared favorite ice cream, but he knew giving Damian a moment by himself would be the best way to help him get over any potential embarrassment from crying. Tim also knew himself well enough that he needed to get out of the house to be able to vent without Damian overhearing. He waited until he was walking down the street to call Dick. Thankfully, he picked up on the third ring. 

“Timmy! Hey! How’s Damian?” Tim could hear what might’ve been Garfield in the background yelling about something related to a video game. 

“I need you to step away from the group you’re by.” Tim was surprised by the amount of contempt he had in his voice and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. This was not Dick’s fault and yelling at him wouldn’t solve anything. 

“Oh, sure just give me a-“ Tim heard Dick excuse himself as his feet carried him to the nearest bodega. 

“Okay what happened.” 

Searching through the ice cream selection, Tim forced himself to not lose his temper and keep his voice level. God forbid his tantrum gets caught by some random paparazzo and makes it on tomorrow's gossip column. 

“Damian skipped school today. Ask me why Dick”

“Why-“ Before Dick even managed to get the one syllable word out his mouth Tim kept speaking.

“Great question! Apparently, the kid has been benched. Now you might ask me, ‘Tim, why was Damian benched?’ and I would say that’s another great question! Apparently , Bruce believes that it’s the kid’s fault that Alfred was killed. I’ll have to go over the records to see what words exactly were used. But the fact that this was D’s take away from the conversation tells me everything I need to know if I’m being honest.” 

Tim could feel his molars grinding and shoulders coming up to rest near his ears. He found some Chunky Monkey ice cream and decided that was probably the closest he could get without going to an actual grocery store. Grabbing that, along with some Nerd clusters and Veggie Straws, he went to check out. Dick remained silent the entire time. 

“I just thought you should know.”

“He, WHAT?” Dick must’ve put his phone down, because the string of curse words that followed the shout sounded slightly muffled. When Dick picked the phone back up, his voice was deathly calm. Similar to how the ocean gets before a storm. 

“I’ll be heading down shortly. Is Damian still at your place?”

“Yeah, he’s taking a nap right now. Or at least pretending to. I stepped out to get us a few snacks and call you. I gotta call Jay because I got a lead on his case and need to let him know I won’t be able to help him tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll see if Wally can run me over actually. I guess I will be seeing you today.” 

“See you soon then Dick” Tim didn’t bother waiting for Dick to reply before hanging up. He quickly switched gears to call Jason and inform him of the new development in his case. As expected, Jason did not answer. He decided it’d be easier to text him the update then leave a voicemail. 

To Zombie

>no trafficking, apparently there’s a meta in crime alley. imma talk to bruce tn to get details. 

Making his way back up the stairs to his Nest, Tim thought about Jack Drake for the first time in a long time. He thought about how Jack stormed in, with a gun literally blazing to threaten Bruce in his honor. He thinks about how he tried so hard to defend Bruce. About how much purpose being Robin gave him. He thinks about how uncomfortable Damian must have felt when he moved to a brand new country, with only an unemotional father and an asshole of a brother to greet him. He thinks of his thoughts from earlier today, about how much Damian has already been through and how youth is supposed to be the easiest part of someone’s life. He thinks about when Dick told him on a silent rooftop what Robin meant, what it truly meant. He thinks about Jason’s and Stephanie’s deaths and how pointless they were. He thinks about his year spent abroad, searching for Bruce. He thinks about Bruce, and how it seems to physically pain him to use any of his intelligence in an emotional capacity. He thinks of Jeffery Tran and how easy it seems for some grown men to throw their weight around to bully those they view below them. He thinks of every injury he’s gotten when on patrol, he thinks of how Alfred was always the one to patch those injuries and how no one was able to patch Alfred’s. He thinks about how Jason seemed doubtful that Tim would help him. He thinks of how quickly Dick was to close himself off to his anger the moment that he realized his brothers needed him. He thinks of Sisyphus and how he is forever trying to push a boulder up a hill. 

At some point during his thinking, Tim not only arrived home and put his groceries away but Dick had evidently shown up. He comes to with a weighted blanket on his lap and the Iron Giant playing on his TV. Even though the blinds are drawn, he can tell it is much later in the day. Dick is sitting next to him on the couch, and Damian is curled up in the arm chair, dozing. There is a half eaten pizza on the coffee table, surrounded by the snacks that he previously bought. Tim rubs his eyes and takes the blanket off. 

“How’s the gremlin doing?” 

Dick turns his head towards Tim, but his eyes stay glued to the screen. “As alright as you are, I’m guessing.” On the screen, Hogarth is currently showing the Giant comic books about heroes. 

“This guy is Superman! Sure, he’s famous now, but he started off just like you! Crash landed on Earth, didn’t know what he was doing. But he only uses his powers for good. Never for evil!”

Tim hums, sitting up straighter and cracking his back and neck. He spares a glance towards Damian. He looks so much younger when he is asleep. It’s hard to imagine him carrying all the guilt that he does. 

“He was really upset earlier, I’m glad you came down to help him.” When Tim looks back over to Dick, there is an indecipherable look on his face. For someone who is so in tune with other’s emotions, Dick has an eerie talent of being able to keep his own close to his chest. 

“Yeah, it took a bit of coaxing to get him to come sit and watch some movies with me. I didn’t really get a chance to talk with him about anything before he fell asleep again.”

“With how much he cried, that’s really not surprising. When are the Titans expecting you back?”

Dick tilts his head, a soft grin playing over his features. “Trying to get rid of me that soon?”

Tim chuckles as he stands and walks towards the kitchen. He puts an effort into keeping his footsteps light, remembering how easily Damian wakes up- a habit that he hasn’t been able to kick since coming to live in Gotham. Dick follows, propping himself on the counter in the same space that Jason was occupying only hours earlier. It’s hard to believe it’s the same day. 

“Kinda the opposite actually. I just wanna make sure that Damian has someone to watch him if I need to step out, or I mean. Maybe you could take him up to New York with you? Change of scenery definitely wouldn’t hurt anything.” 

Dick nods, bringing both hands up to massage his temples. After pulling two water bottles out of the fridge, Tim walks over to the cabinet he keeps some easily explained medical supplies, pulling out the Excedrin. He pours four tablets out, and walks over to hand half of his gathered supplies off to Dick.

Dick eagerly downs the medication, and finishes over half of the water before replying “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Where do you have to go?”

Tim laughs, although there is no humor to be found in it. “I think it’s time Bruce and I have a conversation. I’ve been putting it off since he got back from the time stream cause so much has happened, but after hearing what he said to Damian and knowing what he recently put Jason through…” His sentence trails off, and Dick seems perfectly content to allow it. The silence that follows is heavy with contemplation. They were together when the truth of where Jason ‘disappeared’ was revealed. Tim still has nights where he wakes up soaked with sweat from remembering having to pull Dick off of Bruce, and holding Damian in the rain. These days, it seems as if the Bruce he knew when he was younger has completely disappeared. Like a caterpillar going through its chrysalis, the Bruce that went in and that came out would be unrecognizable if you were to place them next to each other. 

Tim starts to go through the motion of washing the dishes that were used at lunch. Intellectually, he knows he should eat but the events of the day have made even the thought of food nauseating. Realizing that Dick, surprisingly, won’t be the one to break the tension, Tim does. 

“How’d you guys end up on Iron Giant? That’s like the least comforting movie I can think of.”

His comment must catch Dick off guard, because he barks out a laugh. “I actually only put that on when he started sleeping again, we started with Aristocats. Can you believe he’s never seen that one before?” Dick moves to stand next to Tim, drying the dishes as he finishes washing them. 

“Man, I’m sorry I missed it. I would’ve loved to see his reaction to Edgar trying to kill the cats. I’m sure we can expect a new stray that’s named Duchess sometime soon” Tim can feel a genuine smile tugging at his face, recalling having to help rehome an injured alley cat once early on during Damian's stay at the Manor. 

Dick whips the kitchen towel at Tim’s arm, “No, don't even go there! I still haven’t repaired my couch from that fucking mangled creature he found in Blüd last month” Tim mangles to muffle his snort by covering his mouth. Life always seems so much simpler when Dick is in town. Some days he wishes he could go back and tell his 10 year old self that the performer who once made up his whole world would be willing to walk to the end of the world for him. That the only remaining Flying Grayson would one day stand in his apartment with him and trade stories about their younger brother and do something so mundane as wash dishes. 

They spend the next hour cleaning up from the day's activities. Tim figures it’s best to slip out while Damian is still sleeping, so all too quickly he finds himself suited up and grappling across the city to intercept Batman. The night is clear, or as clear as it gets in a city so full of smog. If he squints, he thinks he could spot the Big Dipper. He remembers his mother sitting out on the back porch with him some nights, and telling him the stories that lived in the stars. She told him of how the Chinese have four symbols to represent all of the constellations and all four seasons, how the Greeks believed the stars were placed there by the Gods as warnings or perhaps in memoriam, how Native Americans thought that humans and all the animals came from the stars. The memory of warm summer nights spent with his mother makes him smile.

Tim stops in Old Gotham on a building he knows Bruce will pass by on his patrol tonight. He sits down on the ledge, allowing his feet to dangle off the edge. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Batman stops by on the same roof. He quietly comes to stand next to Tim.

“Robin is safe, by the way. He’s with N, I believe a visit to the Titans is being discussed tonight.”

“That sounds like a good idea”

Tim nods, and takes a deep breath before standing to face Bruce. Years and years and years ago, before he knew the man beneath the mask, he only held reverence in his eyes when looking at Batman. Time is cruel to innocence. It’s difficult to reconcile the hero he grew up with and the father that he knows. If you were to ask him when his faith in Bruce disappeared, Tim knows he wouldn’t be able to give a straight answer. Maybe it was on his sixteenth birthday, after Bruce sent him into a paranoid spiral under the guise of training. Maybe it was after he found out about the Spyral mission he sent Dick on, letting the entire family to mourn Dick. Maybe it was when he revealed his identity to Stephanie without even asking his opinion. Maybe it was before he even introduced himself, when he saw how Batman was simply a man who never learned how to grieve properly, as he let himself get closer and closer to permanently killing a petty thief. The important part is, he has lost his faith in both Batman and Bruce at this point. 

“I agree. Try not to stay out too late tonight B, I’ll be waiting at the cave.”

With that, Tim starts his journey back to the cave. He knows it will be several hours before he will be able to speak with Bruce. He doesn’t know why he thought it’d be better to have the conversation while in masks. There’s too much to say that is compromising to their identities. 

Tim changes into some sweatpants and a hoodie as he waits for Bruce’s arrival. He helps himself to some leftover chicken and rice for a late dinner, that is as bland as it is overcooked. He misses Alfred. 

Deciding he has too much anger and anxiety sitting in his bones, Tim makes his way back down to the cave and over to the training mats. He wraps his hands, and sets to work abusing the speed bag. He feels his knuckles bruising, but he doesn’t let it slow him down. If anything, it pushes him harder. Jab, cross, cross, jab. Jab, cross, jab, cross. Over and over and over and over again until he has to stop from how hard he is panting. There’s no telling how long he has been at this, but the sweat he’s worked up feels good. As he works through some cool down stretches, he can feel his anger swelling again. Pulled to him like the ocean follows the moon. 

He doesn’t consider himself an angry person. Anger is familiar on Jason, who wears it like a punk wears their crust pants. He holds every grievance in plain view, never taking the time to try and wash it away. It’s terrifying on Dick. It’s like seeing a wolf in sheep’s clothing, someone you trusted and felt safe with suddenly has the sharpest teeth you’ve ever seen. The first time he saw Dick angry, truly angry, he understood the betrayal that little red riding hood felt. Damian wears his anger like a knight holding a shield, as a protection from any other swords or arrows that might be directed at him. Tim isn’t ingenious as to claim he can’t get angry, that is far from the truth. His anger is different though. It’s colder, whereas you could get burned by his brothers, Tim is much more likely to give someone frostbite. 

Bruce still hasn’t arrived back, so Tim moves to work through some kata's with his bō staff. He allows himself to zone out, putting all of his effort into perfecting each movement, making them swift and graceful and deadly. Soon enough, Tim hears the purr of the Batmobile’s engine. He quickly places his staff back on the weapons racking, knowing he needs to catch Bruce before he starts on tonight’s report if he wants any chance of having his full attention. He intercepts Bruce as he is making his way into the locker area. He rests against the cool steel of the lockers, waiting until Bruce has removed the majority of his suit before speaking. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Damian cry as hard as he did today.” As expected, Bruce’s eyes immediately find his. He puts as much effort as he can into keeping a neutral face, not wanting to give Bruce anymore to analyze. “I mean, even when he found out that you were…gone…I don’t think the kid cried that much. Which kinda makes me proud. He’s grown a lot. But man, I didn’t know I could feel as empty as I did when I was trying to hold him together.” 

Bruce remains still, like prey that knows it’s being hunted. “I’ve come to expect him dropping by my place every now and then. I try to make sure he knows it’ll be a safe place for him. I want him to have the option, y’know? I even keep some of his favorite snacks stocked, like those cardboard veggie sticks he loves. Do you know why he skipped school to come to my place today Bruce?” Tim pauses, allowing Bruce the chance to answer, although it doesn’t shock him when he stays quiet. Tim can see the furrow that wants to make its home on Bruce’s forehead and the way his lips twitch, as if they were to form into a frown. 

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you.” Tim sits down on the bench, facing Bruce. He sits criss-cross, placing his hands behind him. “He told me that you guys had a discussion about Alfred’s death. He asked me why he wasn’t enough to stop his death. Now, Bruce. I’m no expert, but I think we both know damn well that your child is not to blame for Alfred’s passing.” This is the point where Tim allows his mask to fall. He leans forward into Bruce’s space, baring his teeth. He can feel his heart start to race, and he’s sure his ears would be red if they could be seen under his hair given the warmth he feels radiating from them. 

“I thought after four Robins, that maybe, maybe , you could get it right with this one. I thought, ‘Bruce has put us all through hell, but surely, surely , he’s learned his lesson by now’. I thought Damian has been through the worst of his life already. I thought there’s no way that Bruce can fuck things up for this kid! He has so much support! He has so many people to ask for help!”

“But, I guess I forgot who you are , Bruce.” 

“Tim…” Bruce raises one hand, to do what with Tim isn’t sure but the attempt to placate him only serves to fuel his anger. 

“No. No, you will listen to me, and I mean really listen to me Bruce. I have stood by your side for some of the lowest parts of Batman’s career. It was me, who watched as you threw yourself into fights with recklessness. It was me, who helped Alfred patch you up night after night as you mourned Jason. It was me, who you put through test after test after test to make sure I could manage the Robin mantle. I know intimately how cruel you can be. I remember the screaming matches you’ve gotten into with Dick. I remember you beating Jason to a bloody pulp after he killed the Penguin. I remember losing Damian.” At some point, Tim stood up. He is towering over Bruce with his hand gripping his shoulder in a manner that is sure to leave a bruise. 

“You. Will. Not. Fail. Damian. I will not allow it. I know you miss Alfred, God knows that I do. But his death is not Damian’s fault. It is no one’s fault but Bane’s. Alfred understood what he was signing up for when he agreed to stay in Gotham. If he was here, he would be as disgusted with you as I am.” Forcing himself to let go of Bruce, Tim takes a step back and a deep breath in. He closes his eyes as he looks up, his exhale shaky. In this moment, he feels much older than he is. 

“I don’t care what you do to fix this, but by God you will.” Opening his eyes and looking at Bruce, Tim is surprised to feel the tears start to fall down his own cheeks. “I don’t care if you sign custody over to Dick, lord knows he’s more of a father to Dami than you are. I don’t care if you have to give up Batman, I don’t care if you need to start taking parenting classes. You will fix this, you will address your issues, and you will never take them out on Damian again. He is a child. He is not some soldier in your crusade. He is your . Child .” His voice breaks as he finishes his speech. His muscles are tense from how tightly he has them coiled and he can feel his nails starting to break the skin in his fists. 

Bruce’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly parted. For the first time in Tim’s life, he looks truly broken. Even though it was necessary, Tim has a hard time swallowing down the guilt at what he said. Perhaps he was too cruel, but then he thinks of how Damian silently cried in his arms and thinks he may not have been cruel enough. Bruce deserves to hurt, he needs to understand that this can never happen again. 

“There was a time in which I looked up to you Bruce. Where your name and hero were synonymous to me. I wish I could still say that was true. Figure your shit out B, the next time we have to have this discussion you’ll need to call Clark to pull me off of you.” 

Satisfied with getting the last word in, Tim calmly walks out of the locker area to his bike. The last thing he hears as he drives out of the Cave is a soft cry from a man he once considered his father.