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Chapter Text

It was quiet in Gotham. Tim knew it would be. With Batman on his latest rampage he knew the rogues would hide away until the bat’s target was caught. Even Robin was steering clear of him this time. The fresh bruises along his ribcage from training were warning enough. Batman wouldn’t watch out for him this time. If they went in together Robin had to hold his own. He was getting better about that, about being kinder to Tim, but when he was like this that all disappeared. Or he’d get lectured, benched, and sent to his room. So he opted for sitting on the rooftop with his legs swinging in the air. Speaking to the air, maybe Jason could hear him wherever he was? He didn’t know. Or maybe Dick? Either of his predecessors. Both are dead now. Maybe they were screaming from the heavens for him to get out of the suit and leave Batman to his own devices. Screaming at Tim to save himself.

When Robin disappeared mid patrol years ago Batman had been a mess. Just as broken as when his parents had been killed. Nothing could motivate Bruce to get out of bed and take care of himself or motivate Batman to dodge deadly blows. Tim knows this, he heard the whispers from his parents when he was kid about Bruce and saw the news footage. Batman wasn’t fighting like he did before. Maybe he hoped to join his son wherever he went. 

But then he found Jason. And Jason gave him hope again. Batman began fighting again, Bruce was alive again. Tim had seen this Bruce. Had met this Bruce and had followed this Batman at a distance. Sneaking photographs of Robin smiling and laughing. Jason was his Robin. His Robin was magic. This Batman was the one Tim knew would save Gotham. But then Jason died at the hands of the Joker and Batman got angry. He was determined to join his son this time and take as many rogues down with him. But Robin was supposed to be magic and Tim couldn’t let that be tainted. Robin had to be Gotham’s hope, had to be Batman’s hope. So he stole the suit. It earned him broken ribs but Robin was alive again. Dick and Jason were alive again. Alive in him. Even if Bruce refused to see it. Only saw him as a stand-in. That was fine. It would be fine. He was just here long enough to help Bruce heal. 

“ Robin ,” Oracle’s voice was grim. She kept her distance from Batman, had for a long time even as Batgirl, but since Tim took the mantle she had eased her way back in more so for Tim’s benefit. Tim wanted to feel guilty over it, even when the Sirens had begged Barbara to step away from Batman, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved whenever he heard her voice over the comms. 

“Go for Robin,” he tried to sound cheerful and not like he was sporting more bruises than he should’ve. 

“ Time to go home. The Owls are out.”

Right. The Court of Owls. Batman’s latest pain in the ass. Which meant they were his pain in the ass too. They had been gunning for Bruce for a while now yet could never really get their hands on him. Only ended up with severely injured, maybe even dead, owls. But they were already undead? Could they die again? It made his head hurt thinking about it. 

“On it,” he mumbled, no room for argument. 

The journey home was easy. Especially since no one was gunning for Robin. Either they were too scared of Batman’s wrath, not that Tim was that important to him, or they thought he was unimportant enough to bypass. Which was fair, he wasn’t Dick or Jason. He was a placeholder and most people made it known that is how they felt. Especially the Justice League. Every time he thinks of their disastrous first meeting and how it ended with Batman leaving the league it makes him shrink. He had been the reason Bruce lost his best friend. Hadn’t talked to him in nearly the entire three years he had been Robin.

“They do not get to dictate who Robin is. You are a qualified Robin.” Was all he had told Tim when they had arrived at the cave. He was still 14, fresh in a suit that wasn’t his and awkward. It was the first time Bruce showed no regret about making Tim Robin and maybe, maybe it was a turning point. But progress with Bruce was slow. Slowed even more by the fact that Tim’s parents were still alive. Until, well, in the last year. 

“Welcome back, Master Tim,” Alfred greeted as he rolled his bike to a stop and hopped off. There was no Bruce when he got home but he expected as much. A part of him was disappointed to not see him at the computer giving him a small greeting nod. 

“Hi Alfred,” Tim mumbled, “he won’t be back for a while will he?”

“I’m afraid not, dear boy,” Alfred said softly and extended his hand, “but come. Let us look at those ribs, hm.”

“They’re fine-”

“Master Bruce should not have been that rough with you. You are still healing,” Alfred hushed him and led him towards the bed bay.

Right. Healing. The scars on his side still ached some days when he woke up. A stinging reminder of what happens when you get too close to a Talon. You get a shredded side and a splenectomy. And a life of antibiotics. Ever since then Bruce had been hell bent on burning the Court of Owls to the ground. He could still feel the blood bubbling past his lips and rushing up his throat as Bruce held him in the batmobile as it auto piloted back to the cave. He couldn’t think about it for too long or he’d spiral so he shook the memory out of his mind. 

Once Alfred was satisfied with how Tim’s ribs had been healing he was sent up to the manor to bed. Which sounded amazing. The hot shower he took eased his muscles and allowed for the sleepiness to move in. The closer her got to his bed the heavier his limbs felt and the more grateful he was for Oracle sending him home early. But just as he was going to throw himself onto his bed he heard a creak. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to the manor being old. Old houses made noises. Bruce’s security was impenetrable. Yet something made his adrenaline spike and sleep evaporate. He slowly made it look like he was going to bed but was really reaching for the bo staff he kept hidden between the mattress and bed frame. 

Before he could reach it something wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back. It knocked him to the ground flat on his back. All the air left his lungs and his ribs screamed as he tried to gulp down any sort of air. No, no this couldn’t be happening. Bruce’s security, no one could get past it. His thoughts raced as he tried to get up only to be knocked back by a body straddling his torso. His eyes traced up the figure. Over the all too familiar owl-like uniform. Until he was staring into the glowing eyes of a Talon. He knows this wasn’t the Talon that almost killed him. That Talon ended up dead, Batman had let Harley deal the final blow in his own twisted agreement with the Sirens to keep him from killing. 

“No,” he gasped out.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” the voice rasped, much more human than any of the other Talon’s voices, as he pulled a dagger out of his bandolier, “The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

“Not a chance,” Tim gritted out and bucked his hips up to attempt to get him knocked off but it didn’t even shake him. The blade glinted in the dark room as it was raised. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow. For the pain and the blood again. But instead he got the weight off him. He cracked his eyes open to see the Talon standing, nearing the wall of pictures he kept over his desk. His clawed hands plucked one picture off the wall and brought it closer to him. All Tim could do was watch in silence as the Talon’s head tilted in interest before looking back at Tim. Back to the picture and then at him. 

“Consider yourself spared, for now, Timothy Drake,” it hissed. Before Tim could even move the Talon had his bo staff in his hand and he was knocked out. 

Talon couldn’t understand why he knew this picture. This boy in it. Smiling at the Bat on a rooftop. He couldn’t understand why he had hesitated in killing his target. Yet he had. He had failed and he had hid in an abandoned clock tower. The Court would be looking for him. Even if they trembled in fear whenever he entered their halls. He could always smell their fear and it made his slow heart beat faster. Maybe at a normal pace. He knew he wasn’t like the other Talons. He just didn’t know why. Now he couldn't understand why he couldn't kill one boy. One, weak boy. 

He couldn’t understand why months ago when the Court announced they had killed Robin he was feeling rage. Talon did not feel rage. Yet his fists had trembled when they celebrated. And he had smirked under his mask when they had announced his survival, his fellow Talon’s failure. Was satisfied to see the Talon wither away without the Electrum. Electrum he did not need. Electrum he could survive without. Perhaps that was why the Court feared him. Talon had no loyalty to them. But he kept returning. Some nights when he was in his cell, not a pod like the other Talons, he couldn’t understand why he continued returning. Why couldn't he just stay in his abandoned clock tower. 

“Who are you?” He mumbled thinking of the boy in the picture. 

There was not much that Talon remembered of his life before waking up in the pod. Sometimes he got flashes of a circus, of the Romani language, and of a gothic mansion surrounded by woods. Yet he could not remember his name or who he was before Talon. He is and was always Talon. There had to be more, he knew there had to be more. The Court was falling, cracking under the Bat’s attacks. Talon would not stay to watch it burn. He would not be confined to his cell again only to be killed in it. So he stayed in his clock tower, even as every fiber of his being screamed at him to go back under. To find the Court. 

“Ow,” Tim whimpered as Alfred cleaned off his temple. 

“I’m sorry dear boy,” Alfred hummed as he continued to apply antiseptic to the wound. The bruise around it throbbed with each of Alfred’s gentle dabs. Tim wanted to pull away but he willed himself to stay still. He only flinched when the roar of the batmobile tore through the cave.

“He’s going to be so mad,” Tim whispered.

“Worried, Master Tim, he is worried,” Alfred said gently. 

Soon enough Alfred’s aged hands were replaced with Bruce’s calloused ones as he turned Tim’s face to get a better look at where he had been struck by the Talon. With his own bo staff. Embarrassment heated his cheeks as Bruce continued where Alfred had left off. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alfred sorting antibiotics that Tim would need for this to heal properly. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Bruce’s voice was gruff but Tim could hear the worry in it. Or maybe the Talon had hit him that hard.

“How did he get past the security?” Tim asked.

“I will find out,” Bruce said, “for now we stay in the manor. Locked down. You will be safe here Tim.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Tim said and winced when Bruce injected the local anesthetic. He received a low apology before Bruce stepped back to give it time to numb the skin to stitch up. 

“For now focus on resting,” Bruce said, prepping the materials for the stitches. He could see the extra care being taken to make sure this won't end in infection. More embarrassment rose up Tim’s neck. This wouldn’t have been a problem a couple months ago. A couple months ago he still had his spleen and Bruce barely cared. Maybe almost dying changed his mind. Tim didn’t wanna find out. 

“He was staring at one of my pictures,” Tim brought up once Bruce started the stitches. He figured if he had a needle in his skin Bruce wouldn’t lose it with his new being gentle with Tim attitude. Sometimes, anyways. 

“Which?”

“The um,” Tim hesitated, “the one of Dick. He took it with him.” 

He saw Bruce still. If he counted his breaths he knew he’d catch him in a breathing exercise. Probably trying not to throttle Tim for bringing up his dead son. He had stopped snapping at him about bringing them up a year into being Robin but some days were still sensitive. Grief never really went away, he knew that lesson all too well now. 

“I will take a look in your room. You can stay in mine or…theirs if you prefer.”

The night his dad had been killed by Captain Boomerang Tim was a mess. He had pushed Bruce away even if the man followed him through the halls as he broke down. Instead of heading to his room he had gone into Jason’s. Had buried himself in the old Robin’s sheets and screamed until his throat was raw. He had clutched the sheets to his chest so tightly the next morning he could see the bruises his fingers left behind on his chest. Maybe some part of him wanted Jason to appear, to be his Robin…his big brother maybe. And if Jason could come back so could Dick. Yet, the room stayed empty and untouched save for Tim on the bed. Those first weeks after he had alternated between Jason and Dick’s rooms. Never his own until recently. Which would change again. But he had only ever gotten in their beds, never touched anything else. Not Jason’s extensive collection of books or Dick’s stray gymnastic equipment. Yet their blankets around him gave him some sort of comfort. As if the previous Robin’s were engulfing him in their capes. So that’s where he went that night. Curled in their sheets and if he pretended long enough they would be curled around him too.

One thing Tim didn’t expect about being Robin was inheriting his predecessor's best friends. Well, in Dick’s case Wally was more than his best friend. But the first time they saw him in the suit both Kid Flash and Arsenal sent fury to Batman. How could he do this? How could he give him the suit? How could he put another kid in danger? Once they accepted that Tim wouldn’t give Robin up it just meant he gained two pseudo-brothers. Sure, they weren’t the former Robins, but they were the closest he could ever get to them. He was the closest they’d ever get to them too, he supposed. So of course when Barbara told them Robin had been attacked in the manor they had ended up on its door steps. Which led to them now sitting with him in the den while Bruce was out hunting the Court of Owls. It did make him feel a little better having them there. Even if the manor was in full lock down mode it wouldn’t have changed that fact he would’ve been with just Alfred. And Alfred wouldn’t be slouched with him on the couch like Roy was. 

“He got you good,” Roy hummed when he saw the bruise that started at Tim’s temple and extended to his cheek. 

“God fucking dammit,” Wally had cursed and paced. Wally always paced when it came to Robin or Tim.

When he had lost his spleen and woke up in the Justice League med bay Wally had been pacing the length of the room. Roy had been right there next to him along with Bruce. Which was a sight to see Batman at his bedside but he was too tired, too hurt to really understand what any of them were saying. It had all been so overwhelming. The lights were too bright and the room was so cold and he was just in so much pain he couldn’t help but burst into tears. But it had been Wally who put his hands on his cheeks and helped him breathe through it until it wasn’t so overwhelming anymore. 

“He broke in,” Tim whispered, voice trembling slightly, because he could be vulnerable with Wally and Roy in a way he couldn’t with Bruce. If he was vulnerable like this with Bruce it would only send him into even more of a rage. “And-And….”

“Just breathe Tim,” Wally reminded him.

“He said The Court of Owls has sentenced me to die,” he whimpered which made Wally stop in his tracks and whirl around to him. 

“ What?” His voice was tight and it was clear by the way he was clenching his jaw that it was taking a lot of control not to snap.

“I don’t know what I did,” Tim said, “but he didn’t kill me. Talons always finish the job but…but then…he took one of my photos. One of the only ones I have of Dick.”

“What are you saying Tim?” Wally asked calmly and sat on the coffee table in front of him.

“What if he knows Dick? What if that's why he didn’t kill me?” Tim said, “What if Dicks’ alive?”

It had been brewing in his brain since Talon took the picture with him. Why else would he take that one? It was the blurriest, darkest of them all. If you couldn’t tell the difference between Robins you’d never know it wasn’t Jason but Dick in the photo. Yet he had, and he had picked that photo out of the dozens on his wall. Dozens of Jason in the suit and even a few of him in the suit. Yet, he took the only one of three he had of Dick. That had to mean something. There was no body when Dick disappeared which always meant more in Gotham, it always meant there was the possibility they would come back. 

“Tim,” Roy said softly and tucked a stray piece of hair away from his face, “listen, we exhausted everything when he went missing.”

“But what if-”

“Roy’s right,” Wally’s voice was strained, eyes holding so much sadness as he looked at Tim and rested his hand on his cheek right over the bruise the Talon left behind. “But god he would’ve loved you. Always wanted a little brother.”

“Jason didn’t,” Roy chuckled humorlessly, “but he would’ve warmed up to you. It’s impossible not to.”

“It has to mean something to the Talon, they never do something if it doesn’t mean something,” Tim said.

“Yeah, this means getting into Bruce’s head. Your head. Dick’s dead, Tim. We need to focus on keeping you safe now,” Wally said strongly, “No more dead Robins, alright? Roys’ gonna stay with you. I gotta head back to Central City soon.”

“We’ll be here for a few nights,” Roy said softly, “so for now you rest, okay? We’ve got you.”

It should’ve embarrassed him how quickly he let them wrangle him into laying down and putting on a random movie. His head was in Wally’s lap as the speedster ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. Maybe in another life this was him and Dick. And Jason. All in the den watching senseless movies while Bruce went out as Batman. Maybe even in that other life they weren't even Robins. Just his sons. It didn’t matter anymore. The longer Wally stroked his hair the harder it was to stay awake.

“Sleep, Tim. We’ll be here when you wake up. Promise,” Wally said softly and that was all it took for him to finally let his eyes close. 

The Bat was getting on his trail. Even as he tried to cover all his tracks the Bat still was getting close. Too close. Yet Robin was nowhere to be found. His target. He couldn’t penetrate his home again, not for lack of trying. Talon was growing frustrated. He wouldn’t go back to the Court, they hadn’t sent anyone after him yet either. Yet, there was the itch to find Robin. Not to finish his mission but he had to see that no other Talon had done what he hadn’t. That Robin was still alive and breathing. It shouldn’t matter this much to him, Talon did not feel. Talon did not have attachments. So why, why was Robin on his mind this much?

Why was he hiding from the Bat so much instead of fighting him? The thought of taking him on made his stomach churn. That had never happened to Talon before. As he watched him fight a group of Talons from above he couldn’t help but watch in curiosity. The movements were familiar to him. He was so sure if he jumped into the fight at that moment he’d be able to fight with the bat not against him. When one of the other Talons got a good hit on the bat he snarled and drew his sword. What was this feeling? Something bubbling in his chest as they descended on the Bat. Before he could realize what he was doing he was in the frey, fighting the Talons he had seen in the Court before. Their eyes glowed like his but their movements slowed when he approached. Talons did not fear but he could smell the bitterness coming off of them as he swung. As the Bat stood and fought alongside him. 

Only once they were all down did he turn to face the Bat whose face was stoic. Lips pressed in a thin line as he assessed Talon.

“Why?” Was all he asked.

Talon wanted to answer. He didn’t know why. Truthfully, his body had moved before his mind had registered what he was doing. So all he could do was give the Bat a blank stare. The Bat’s gaze hardened as he grabbed another batarang. Talon raised his arms in surrender as he took a few steps back. The Bat’s posture didn’t change even as Talon got farther away. It wasn’t until he neared the edge of the rooftop that the Bat started charging towards him but Talon was off. He was gone before the Bat could swing off the rooftop after him. 

He would spend the rest of the night trailing the Bat. Trying to figure out why he had helped him. Talon’s did not help they killed. Yet, he hadn’t killed Robin. He had saved the Bat. What the hell was happening to him?

“Hey Batman,” he laughed as he ran across the opposite rooftop and flipped over the gap to meet with him on the neighboring building. “What if…we call it early and watch The Mummy tonight!”

“Robin,” Batman said but there was the slightest hint of a smile in his features, “it’s imperative we finish this patrol.”

“Ugh,” Robin, he, complained as he flopped down on the rooftop, “but nothing is happening! We locked the rogues up a few days ago and we both know that means we have some time for peace. C’mon, don’t make me pull the dad card.”

“Robin,” Batman tsked, “I will only watch the Mummy if you can beat me home.”

“You're on, old man!” Robin laughed as he shot up, “We’ll be watching The Mummy in no time!”

“Not if I can help it!” Batman said and took off, “We’ll be watching Sunset Boulevard.”

“No chance!”

He could feel the wind against his cheeks, hear Batman’s low and gruff laugh as they whipped through the city until they found their individual bikes and continued their chase. Even in the underground route to the cave they weaved between each other until Robin’s bike skidded to a stop in the cave seconds before Batman’s. He laughed and it echoed in the cave. 

He could remember the feeling of the plush blankets in the den as The Mummy played on the ridiculously big TV. And the feeling of his cheek against Bruce’s arm. The smell of Alfred’s cookies as they baked in the oven. Bruce had already decided to call him out of school the next day so they could watch the next movie too. A day for them, they were so rare now. 

Neither of them knew it would be their last one. Or that a few days later Robin would be ripped away from on patrol.

Talon, no, his name was Dick. Dick Grayson. He sat up with gasping breaths in the abandoned clock tower. Memories rushed forward without the cloud of Electrum. His hands shook as they rose up and he ripped the gloves off to reveal pale skin with purple hued veins underneath. And nails too sharp to be considered anything other than claws. What had they done to him? What had they turned him into? He is Robin. He was Robin. His head pounded with all the memories that kept rushing forward but one thing he knew was clear: he had to go home. He had to find Bruce. He had to find Tim, this new Robin. And he had to keep him safe from the Court even if it killed him. For real this time.

If he was being honest, Tim was starting to go a little stir crazy. Thankfully it was summer so they didn’t have to deal with the problem of calling him out of classes. That did not stop his boredom. After Roy and Wally had to leave he was left at the mercy of the manor. He had paced the halls so many times now he could probably do it blind folded. He had helped Alfred clean the entire place and had even rearranged the books in the library by author. He ran through so many training exercises his muscles were sore. Yet, the Court hadn’t been stopped yet so he wasn’t allowed to leave. Bruce had promised he would soon. But soon kept seeming further and further away. The longer time went on without progress the more Bruce was slipping into his old ways and Tim was scared. Scared the delicate balance they had established would be broken for good. He wasn’t so sure he could fix it a second time. 

He was in Dick’s room, sitting on the bed and flipping through an old copy of Frankenstein when the lights completely went out. Every part of him tensed but he knew the back-up generators would be kicking in at any second. Yet they hadn’t. He stood and checked under Dick’s bed for any hidden weapons he kept with no luck. So he went to his room for his bo staff. Once his hand was wrapped around it he heard the creaking of the window shutter being forcefully pulled up. He saw clawed hands forcing them up, then glowing eyes behind an owl mask. All he could do was let out a small gasp and tear down the hall towards the cave entrance. 

But he only made it a few feet before being knocked down. A Talon was standing over him, such a familiar sight. He swung, striking him, using his recovery time to get up and keep running. A dagger sliced through the air and right into his thigh making him cry out. His back slammed against the wall of the hall as he tried to stay up right. Each end of the hall had a Talon at their entrance. He stared between the two of them and gripped his staff with trembling hands. One Talon he might be able to slip away from, but two would be nearly impossible. If there were two there had to be more. His mind flickered to Alfred and he hoped the older man had gotten his hands on one of his many hidden shotguns before the Talons got to him. 

“Shit,” Tim said when they charged at him. He let himself fall to the ground again and stopped one of their claws with his staff. It was groaning under the pressure and he knew it wouldn’t hold. Once it snapped those sharp claws would be going straight through his throat. He tried to push back but it was hard with his thigh screaming in pain each time he tried. Just as the staff snapped and he closed his eyes expecting them to slice him to ribbons he heard a grunt instead. 

Opening his eyes he saw another Talon, this time without the helmet. Without the helmet, even in the dark, Tim would recognize the man throwing the Talon away from him. That was Dick Grayson, the first Robin, without any doubt in his mind. Sure he was older and had the eerie eyes and veins that belonged to the Talons. But that was Dick. That was Robin. When his eyes whipped around to face him Tim gulped. 

“I knew it,” Tim whispered, which made Dick smirk slightly. 

“Don’t move,” Dick said and the voice sent chills down his spine. This had been the Talon sent to kill him. The one who was successful in breaking into the manor all those days ago.

“Dick,” Tim breathed out and he gave him a small nod.

“I’m going to deal with them,” Dick’s voice rasped, “and then with you.”

Tim had never seen two Talons fight before and it wasn’t like anything he had ever seen. Not even with Bruce when he fought with full force and little care. Dick was aiming to kill and Tim could see the black blood of the other Talon’s staining the walls. He could hear their bones crunching and muscle tearing. At one point he snapped his eyes shut and whimpered as the adrenaline wore off. The pain started to radiate and spread up his leg. It wasn’t until he heard a soft trill that he slowly opened them again. Dick was crouching in front of him, gently grabbing his thigh to get a better look at it.

“It’ll be alright,” Dick said, even though he had heard his voice before Tim couldn’t get used to it. It sounded nothing like how light and airy it once was. 

“It hurts,” Tim whimpered as Dick poked at the knife which earned a hiss.

“Is the cave entrance the same?” Dick asked and Tim nodded. “I’m going to lift you. This is going to hurt.”

“Wait-” Tim was cut off with his own scream when Dick lifted him up. He choked on his gasping breaths as Dick trilled softly to calm him. All he could do was cling to him and dig his fingers into the sharp edges of the Talon suit as Dick moved him to the med bay. When he was lowered onto the bed he grabbed Dick’s wrist.

“Wait,” he gasped out with teary eyes, “I don’t have a spleen.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed for a split second but then nodded. 

It was then that the Batmobile ripped through the cave, closer than it had ever gotten to the med bay before and Batman flew out. He moved faster than Tim had ever seen him move before and slammed Dick into the ground with his forearm pressed against his throat. For a moment all that could be heard was Bruce’s ragged breathing.

“Dick?” His voice broke when he registered who he had pinned down. 

“Not now,” Dick said and Bruce flinched at the sound of his voice, “Tim needs medical.”

That got Bruce’s attention quickly. He let Dick go and ripped his cowl off as he made his way to Tim. Cursing when he saw the blade he reached for the antibiotics he’d need. His thigh started aching and throbbing worse than before.

“Get it out,” he gasped out and laid back down on the bed with a whimper, “please get it out.”

“Easy Tim,” Bruce’s voice was shaky and he felt the prick of local anesthetic. 

“Tim,” Dick’s voice made his eyes shift towards the first Robin. One of those clawed hands cupped his cheek and guided him through a breathing exercise as his leg was starting to numb. As Dick coached him he could barely feel Bruce pull the knife out. Or the stitches. Once he was well and aware of what was happening he was being moved into a better position to lay down. Dick was talking to Bruce but whatever pain meds he had been given was making him floaty.

“Wally,” Tim slurred and Dick tensed.

“What?”

“Call…Wally…” Tim said before his eyes finally rolled back.

Coming back wasn’t going to be easy. Dick knew this. His memories were still so muddled and some days he felt more like Talon than Dick. Especially as he watched Tim writhe on the bed fighting a fever that just wouldn’t break. Even with all the precautions they took the knife still gave him an infection. It wasn’t easy, not being able to do anything but watch. In another life he could’ve been a doting big brother. Maybe in this life too. But not right then. Not when his memories were still so mixed up and he was still ready to attack at any minute. 

“Dick,” Tim whined and when he opened his eyes Dick could tell he wasn’t all there. There was a glassy look to them that told him Tim was still floating away. 

“Right here,” he hummed, pressing one cold hand to his boiling forehead. 

It had been a difficult few hours with Bruce. Of course Bruce wouldn’t trust him. He wouldn’t trust him either. As soon as Tim had passed out Bruce had wrestled him into a containment cell to run hundreds of tests just to prove that yes, he really was Dick Grayson back from the dead. But he wasn’t ever really dead. Just a brainwashed assassin pumped full of Electrum. Which he didn’t need anymore. But whatever he had been dosed with, some experimental batch, had left lasting effects. Then he had to deal with Bruce’s fluctuating emotions. From anger, to sadness, to guilt, and then to remorse. Dick didn’t have the patience to deal with the man.

Yet, he had all the patience in the world for Tim. Before the fever set in he was rambling thousands of questions at once and Dick could only feel amusement as he tried to answer them all. Then once he got sick he didn’t want Dick to leave his side. Alternatively, he didn’t want Bruce anywhere near him. That had made Dick’s eyes narrow and snarl at Bruce a few times when he got too close for Tim’s comfort. He’d deal with that later. 

“It hurts,” Tim panted and writhed again. Dick’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched Bruce give Tim another round of meds. 

“I know, Tim, I know,” Dick soothed. 

Once the fever broke and Tim was just miserable from feeling ill, Bruce’s suspicions had set in and he was back to his emotionally stunted self. Not that Dick could help much in that regard. If Tim wasn’t awake and asking for him he was holed up in the attic. It reminded him of his beloved clock tower. Tim had once climbed up there, only to be scolded by Alfred for being careless with his stitches, but since then Dick had welcomed him more and more. 

A week after the fever broke, Tim’s head poked up from the floor with a goofy smile. Dick couldn’t help but give him a small smile back. 

“C’mon,” Tim said and motioned for him to come down, “got a surprise for you!”

“Baby bird,” Dick hummed, but followed. He didn’t know where the nickname had come from but it rolled off the tongue naturally and Tim had practically melted in his arms when he first said it. So he continued to say it. 

“What’s the surprise?” Dick said, watching Tim’s limping steps with careful eyes. The kid was stubborn, refusing help and insisting on doing it all alone. Dick didn’t like that but relented to the kid. He would only step in if Tim really needed it or asked. 

“The den!” Tim said and dragged him. 

Dick didn’t know what he would find when he went in but it surely wasn’t Wally West. In a Flash suit. Rambling and pacing with Roy watching him carefully. Tim called his name and Wally whipped around and raced to Tim to pull him into a tight hug, paying no mind to Dick at first. That made Dick smirk, of course Wally would still be just as oblivious as he had always been. 

“Thank god,” Wally breathed as he hugged Tim, “fuck, we hadn’t heard from Bruce and I-”

“Holy fuck, Wally,” Roy’s voice stopped him and made Wally look away from Tim. At Dick’s now golden eyes. 

“Dick?” Wally said his name as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Hey,” Dick rasped and in a blink he was engulfed in the red head’s arms. Dick couldn’t stop his own arms from rising and gripping the back of Wally’s uniform. He wouldn’t mention the tears he felt against his shoulder or how they soaked through his shirt or the shaking of Wally’s shoulders. “Flash huh?”

“Oh god shut up,” Wally choked out.

“I told you,” Tim said as he flopped on the couch and elevated his leg with Roy’s help. 

“Yeah you did,” Roy said and ruffled his hair, “too damn smart for your own good.”

Dick was…odd. Tim knew he would be, he had been a brainwashed assassin for the better part of his life. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t call him odd. Especially when he seemed more animal than man some days. The sounds that came out of his throat resembled an owl sometimes. From his trilling to his hissing and growls. Well, Tim wasn’t sure if Owls growled but Dick sure did. Or how his eyes glowed brighter when he was angry. Especially when he was angry at Bruce. But having Dick back was good, nice. Tim liked it that when he snuck into his room 6 times out of 10 Dick was actually in his bed and welcomed Tim with open arms. The more time Dick spent at the manor, with them, the more he shed away Talon and was just Dick. 

It was four months after he came home that Tim went out as Robin again. His first excuse was his leg taking a long time to heal. Then wanting to bond with Dick. Then school started again. Until he finally admitted to Bruce he was scared. Dick was back, the original Robin was back. What use did Bruce have for him now? He never wanted Tim to be Robin, now there was no need for him to be Robin. He just didn’t account for Dick to be eavesdropping on the entire conversation. Truly, he should’ve expected it. Dick had been exceptionally over protective of him. 

“No,” Dick said and grabbed his chin gently to make him look up from where he was staring holes into the floor, “you are the best Robin. Perfect.”

“Dick-”

“Tim,” Dick said, “you were Robin when Gotham needed it most, when Batman needed it most. You are Robin. Not me. Not Jason. You. I’m proud that you are Robin.”

Something about hearing the first Robin, the original Robin, saying he was proud of Tim when not even Batman had said it made something break and yet heal all the same. His lip trembled as he hugged Dick tightly. The older boy just hushed him softly. So Tim put the suit back on for the first time in months, this time with Dick smiling proudly at him as he let Dick put the mask on his face and motioned for him to go. 

Robin followed Batman on patrol with a laugh, something that used to be so rare. Of course he pretended not to notice the Talon shaped shadow following him close behind. Until they stopped on a rooftop for a break and it stepped from out of the shadows. Dick in his full Talon suit, sans mask and instead sporting a normal domino. 

“I’ll race you to Wayne Enterprises,” Tim said.

“You’re on, baby bird,” Dick said with a smile. 

They both flew off into the night with Batman trailing close behind and for once, Tim didn’t feel like Robin wasn’t his. Or so alone anymore.

Chapter Text

It took everything in him not to giggle. Even as he covered his mouth to smother them down as they threatened to erupt again Tim wanted them desperately to stop. Tears welled in his eyes as they erupted out of him. Even as he bit down on his hands, right in the curve between his pointer finger and thumb, to stop them. Even as blood splashed on his tongue from how hard he was biting. Nothing stopped them as he slid down the wall of his locked bathroom and tears spilled down his cheeks. Eventually Dick would be able to pick the lock, or break the door down depending on how desperate he got to help Tim. With the first crack of wood Tim knew Dick was starting to get antsy. Yet he made no motion to get up and let him not. So Bruce would have to replace yet another door, that makes six bathrooms Tim has locked himself in and four doors that Dick has busted down. 

“Baby bird,” Dick said sadly when he finally got the door down and rushed over to him. Dick was still in his Nightwing suit, minus mask, when he rushed over. “No, no biting.” Dick continued to coo at him, sad trills echoing in the bathroom as he massaged Tim’s jaw to get him to let go. After a few minutes of it he did and Dick was quick to pull his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said between giggles, betraying the tears pouring down his cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Dick assured him and smoothed his hair back, “oh baby bird, it’s alright.”

“I ruined everything,” Tim’s giggles finally faded into sobs as he fell into Dick’s awaiting arms, “I-I ruined it.”

“No, you did no such thing. He did.”

Things between Bruce and Dick were finally, finally, stable. Then Tim had to get and get kidnapped by the Joker. And everything went bad again. The two couldn’t be in the same room anymore without it almost always ending in an argument and Tim in a fit of giggles. He didn’t know what happened when they found him. It was all still so blurry. He remembers Dick’s roar of anger. The feeling of pulling the trigger to shoot Joker. Then hands on Tim’s cheeks as Tim fell on the floor in a puddle of sobs and laughs. The weeks after were a blur. When he finally started to remember it was all ruined. Because of him. That’s all that flooded his mind these days. That and the incessant feeling of needing to giggle. 

And break every mirror he looked into. He had probably gained centuries of bad luck by then. The first time he looked into a mirror all he had seen was green hair, two stitched up wounds on either side of his face, and paler skin than he had ever had before. He knows Dick made quick work of dying his hair with Wally’s help. They had taken him out to the sun to gain back some color and had helped him pick a scar treatment for when he healed. Yet, every time he got a glimpse of them he couldn’t stop himself from hurling something, or his fist, into the mirror. So Bruce had either had them all taken down or covered. Just another way he was ruining things. 

“Dick,” Tim whimpered into his chest.

“It’s alright baby bird, I’m here now,” Dick assured him, “I’m right here.”

There were few times Dick had felt as helpless as when Tim was taken by Joker. He had torn the city apart trying to look for him. Then forced to watch the broadcasts of his little brother being tortured by him. Had it not been for Wally he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have ripped the TV to shreds. Or hunted the clown down himself, probably ending up with Tim getting even more hurt than he already was.

Yet as he watched him sleep in his bed, not Tim’s because Tim never went into his own room anymore, he wondered if he had done right by Tim by waiting. By following Bruce’s lead. Logically he knew he was right, if he had let himself become Talon again Joker would have won that fight. Tim might be dead. Yet only anger festered in him from Bruce not letting him deal the killing blow. Why? Why send him to Arkham to heal from the gunshot wound Tim gave him instead of letting him finally die? Dick had yelled until he was blue in the face about it but Bruce couldn’t, or wouldn’t give him an answer. So he settled for going out as Nightwing and caring for Tim when he wasn’t. He knew he couldn’t keep fighting with Bruce. Not when it made Tim a nervous giggle mess every time. Even as he watched him sleep it was hard. Hard to accept that waiting was the best option. That letting him suffer longer was the best option. 

“Hey,” Wally’s voice made him tilt his head back for a second before going back to watching Tim, “Bruce called. Told me you had to break down another door.”

“He was biting his hand again,” Dick sighed, motioning towards Tim, “I don’t know how to help him, Wally.”

“You’re doing the right thing, being there for him,” Wally assured him, Dick could feel his hand rub circles between his shoulder blades, “go shower. Eat something. I’ll watch him.”

“How’s Roy?” Dick asked and Wally sighed.

“He’s fine, still working up to coming. Has Tim asked about him?”

“Tim hasn’t asked about anyone. When he’s lucid all he can say is how he’s ruined everything,” Dick mumbled, running his hand over his face, “you’re fast enough to stop him before he locks himself anywhere again.”

“We both know I am,” Wally said softly and pressed a kiss to Dick’s temple, “now go. You stink.”

Dick didn’t argue with Wally. He went to the bathroom in Bruce’s room, the only one with a functioning lock. Bruce gave him a grim look when Dick walked in. He just looked away, too tired to argue. By the looks of Bruce so was he. So Dick walked into the bathroom with his spare pajamas and locked the door. 

Under the spray of hot water he could clearly think about the last month. How great the last year had been before the Joker ruined everything, yet again. Tim was barely 18. They should still be celebrating his birthday not trying to rid him of whatever the Joker did to him. Especially not trying to get Roy, one of the few people who looked out for him, to be able to stand being in the same room as him again. When they brought him home Roy was in the cave fresh off his own shift of looking for Tim. One look at him, dressed like the Joker with those crudely stitched cuts on his face with green hair and Roy had panicked. Had thought of Jason and fled. He didn’t get too far since Wally went after him but since then Roy hadn’t been able to come check on Tim. He called every day, multiple times a day, and profusely apologized each time but Dick couldn’t blame him. Neither could Tim, when he was fully himself anyways. When he wasn’t he was angry. It was fair, and those moments weren’t as common as they were when they first brought him home but his new hefty med doses could probably be given credit and not Dick’s incessant doting. 

He shook those memories from his mind and finished his shower. When he stepped out Bruce wasn’t in his room anymore. As he went towards his room he could hear the low timber of Bruce’s voice coming from it. When he peaked in he could see Bruce reading an old copy of Peter Pan to Tim. Dick knows it's the copy he brought with him from Haley’s Circus and something in his chest warmed seeing how calm it made Tim listen to it. Distantly he could hear Wally cleaning something in his adjoining bathroom. Tim’s eyes looked up at him but no part of him made to move from where he was curled against Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick breathed and Bruce gave him a small smile.

“Join us,” Bruce motioned for Dick to curl up on his other side and he hesitated for a moment. He should go help Wally. But one look from Tim and he was curled in on Bruce’s side. 

“You like the story, Tim?” Dick asked softly, and brushed away a stray tear.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Dick said softly and motioned for Bruce to continue. He fell asleep to Bruce’s voice, and woke up to an empty bed. He sat up with a gasp and searched around seeing no Tim, until Wally cupped his cheeks as he shushed him gently. 

“He’s with Bruce in Jason’s room,” Wally said softly, “Tim wanted to keep hearing stories and Bruce didn’t want to wake up since you were finally sleeping.”

“If he falls asleep Tim will-”

“Bruce won’t fall asleep. Just saw him chug his fourth coffee,” Wally assured him, “you, on the other hand, need rest.”

“What if-”

“Bruce has him, I’ve got him,” Wally said softly, pushing a few strands of hair from his face, “just because you’re pumped full of Electrum doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep.”

“I don’t need as much sleep,” Dick countered, yet let Wally push him down on the bed and didn’t fight when he laid on him. Dick liked the pressure of Wally on him, it soothed the budding anxiety in his chest. 

“But you still need sleep,” Wally countered, “Dick I promise you, we won’t let anything happen to Tim.”

“I can’t…I can’t stop worrying about him, Wally,” Dick breathed out and hugged Wally tightly.

“I know,” Wally mumbled softly, “but running yourself ragged won’t help him. We both know he’ll just feel guilty about it.”

“I know,” Dick sighed, “I know.”

“So shut up and sleep.”

“Jason said Robin was magic,” Tim whispered one day when he was squished between Wally and Dick in the den. It had been yet another bad night. Tim didn’t want to watch a movie or hear a story told by Bruce. No, he wanted to look through his pictures. Specifically, the ones he had taken of Jason as Robin. It made Dick’s heart ache, the sight of the little brother he never knew. The one he never would know because this time there was a body buried next to the Waynes in their family cemetery. So he had to get to know Jason through Tim. Neither Bruce or Roy would talk about him to Dick. Wally told him it was rare that Roy would indulge Tim in anything relating to Jason and Bruce never had. So he listened to Tim intently.

“Really?” Dick asked and ran his fingers through Tim’s hair as he lifted another picture of Jason smiling in the suit. It made Dick smile slightly. 

“Yeah,” Tim whispered, “he loved it, I think. He was always smiling and laughing.”

“He was a little shit, reason why he got along with Roy so well,” Wally replied, “only reason he joined the Titans was to hang out with Roy.”

“I only met him once, at a gala here in the manor. He was the only person nice to me,” Tim said, “my parents weren’t well liked and well, I was too weird for any of the other kids. Jason caught me messing with my hands and asked me if I wanted to sneak upstairs to see the library. I wonder if he even remembered me. Or if he knew I was following him with my camera.”

“Probably,” Dick mumbled, “maybe he liked the attention.”

“Oh, he definitely liked having a little fan,” Wally filled him, “even if he didn’t know it was you. Roy says he used to say he felt like he was being followed on patrol. But he loved it when kids got excited when they saw him.”

“Jason didn’t like team work,” Tim mumbled and leaned his head on Dick’s shoulder, “papers called him the happy Robin.”

“I was pretty happy,” Dick said.

“Not as happy as Jason,” Tim said softly, grabbing yet another picture, “he was my Robin. Do you think he’d be proud of me?”

“Of course he would,” Wally said softly, “he has no reason not to be.”

“Roy was so mad at me at first,” Tim whimpered, “so was Bruce. They were so, so mad.”

“It’s alright Tim,” Dick soothed but closed his eyes when Tim’s whimper evolved into full blown sobs. He knew it frustrated the kid not being able to grapple his emotions like he was once able to. So he settled for grabbing the picture in his hand, handing it to Wally, and pulling him into his lap so Tim could cling to him until he was done. It had been their routing before. All the emotions Tim was feeling now, they were all big. High highs and low lows. Effects of trying to find the right med to balance his newly damaged mind. Or that was what Leslie had said. So he wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck and sobbed loudly into his shoulder. All he could do was run his hand down his back, he was still so thin from lack of eating, and soothe him. Provide him any sort of comfort. It didn’t make it any easier, it never did. Once Tim had tired himself out he was laid across Dick’s lap, fast asleep. Slowly he wiped his cheeks away to try and get rid of any leftover tears. 

“How could Bruce look at him and let the Joker live?” Dick growled, seeing the stitches still in Tim’s cheeks. 

“Tim shot Joker right?” Wally asked and Dick hummed in response, “Maybe he doesn’t want that death on Tim’s hands.”

Dick had never thought of it like that. All he thought was Bruce saving the Joker, not keeping him alive so Tim didn’t have to carry that death on his hands. It didn’t make it any easier to process, to rid the image of Bruce putting Pressure on Joker’s wound. It was still such a tough pill to swallow, especially with Tim in his lap.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Dick grumbled, smoothing some of Tim’s greasy hair back. They’d have to get him to bathe soon but it was always so rough. The Joker had done the same thing over and over to Tim, dunking his head under the water until Tim could barely fight back. Dick had to borderline get in with him to keep Tim from falling apart or having a panic attack. So they had avoided it for days at a time but he knew he couldn’t keep doing that. Not if Tim wanted to heal, not if Tim wanted to go back to being himself. Or as much of himself as he could be again. 

This was bullshit. Jason wanted to rage, roar. When Talia showed him the footage of yet another Robin. Was two dead Robins not enough for Bruce Wayne? He found a newer, better model? After all the times he promised Jason that he could never and would never be replaced he had gone and done just that. With Timothy Drake. Their rich neighbor’s kid. Of course he’d find a better kid. One who didn’t have all the issues and baggage Jason had come with. Green tinted his vision every time he thought about it. Every time the name crossed his mind Jason wanted to tear the kid apart. Watch him bleed the same way he had bled. Yet as he tore through Gotham there was no sign of the bird. Just Batman and Nightwing. He knew it wasn’t Tim in the Nightwing suit, he was too big to be Tim unless he got his own turn in a lazarus pit. 

So he had to draw the little replacement out. That would be easy. He had been Robin before. He knew exactly how to bait one. 

Yet, weeks went by with nothing. No sight of the bird. Not even a whisper of one. Where the fuck was he? Jason had searched all of Gotham yet couldn’t find the little bird. This Robin, this pretender , this replacement wasn’t even part of the Titans. He could only be in Gotham. Yet where was he hiding? The only answer would be in the manor and Jason was not ready to face that yet. He’d lose in a fight against Batman and Robin. But with Robin taken care of, Batman would be vulnerable. Emotional. And Jason would pull on every thread every so carefully and snip them away until he could destroy Bruce. For letting him get killed. For not being fast enough. For replacing him with a better model. The better model he was searching for to kill.

He hadn’t hid it, that Red Hood was looking for Robin. Anyone he encountered and asked about usually didn’t live long enough to figure out why but just enough to spread the word that he was on the hunt for a certain bird. It didn’t bother him that goons scattered away from him when they heard him coming or saw a glimpse of his helmet. Hell, it made his adrenaline rush forwards and the pit hiss in satisfaction. 

The hunt was almost as good as the kill and Robin was proving to be a hell of a hunt. 

Dick had no intention of ending patrol early. This was supposed to be a full patrol but one call from Tim and he was racing home early. Another nightmare. His voice had been trembling when he got off comms. So Dick really only had one thought in mind as he parked his bike and started speed walking towards the cave exit.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet either. He knows for a fact Tim had called him, in fact Tim had begged him not to tell Bruce and interrupt Batman’s patrol. So what the hell was Bruce doing here staring at something on the cave monitor. “Someone’s hunting Robin.”

“Who?” Dick snarled as if he wasn’t the one doing the same thing a year ago.

“Someone called the Red Hood,” Batman mumbled, “He…he has been for a while now.”

“And you didn’t think to bring this up?” Dick nearly yelled but held back on the chance that Tim was waiting for him in the library just beyond the grandfather clock.

“For what? To bring more fear to Tim? He was with you, I know you’d protect him no matter what,” Bruce said, turning to face Dick and all he could see on Bruce’s face was agony. It made him falter in his anger. Bruce only ever showed this much pain when it came to one person. It made Dick’s already cold blood run freezing. He didn’t want to say his name. Didn’t want to think it was possible. 

“It’s Jason isn’t it,” Dick said. 

There was little Dick could think that would further break Tim after what he’s suffered already. His parents dying. Bruce’s brutal training and coarseness. The Talons. Joker. But the possibility of Jason, Tim’s Robin , the person that Tim looked up to most in life wanting to kill him…Dick knew that would absolutely shatter whatever was left intact after Joker’s attack. Something Tim didn’t deserve. It made sense why Bruce didn’t tell him. Because even as scared, as broken as Tim was he’d still try to find out who it was. If he was the one to figure out it was Jason he wouldn’t tell a soul. Hell, Dick wouldn’t doubt he’d don Robin again to bring Jason home even if it felt like putting acid on his skin. Because that’s just who Tim was at his core. The kindest, most selfless kid he’d ever seen. So Dick could understand why Bruce kept this from him. From them. 

“Yes,” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, “I don’t know how. But it’s him.”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dick said and steeled him from what he’d say next, “if he gets close to killing Tim, I’ll kill him.”

Bruce flinched back as if Dick had physically struck him. Logically, he knew this couldn’t be easy for him. But Dick didn’t have it in him to care. When it came down to it, between Jason and Tim he’d pick Tim. One was the ghost of a brother he never knew and Tim was standing in front of him with all his trust in his big brother. Trust that Dick didn’t intend to break. Even if it fractured the delicate relationship he had with Bruce beyond repair.

“Give me time,” Bruce said, “to find and-”

“Do what you want about it, as long as he doesn’t come near Tim,” Dick said, “I’m going to check on him. Get it together and don’t even let him think anything’s wrong.”

Without a second thought he turned his back on Bruce and went to check on Tim. Sure it was callus, cruel even. But Dick didn’t care. Maybe it was a side effect of being Talon for so long. Tim being in danger always brought this side out of him. Wally was the one to point it out, not that he was any better when it came to Tim. He didn’t care at that moment. All he cared about was that Tim wasn’t biting through his hand again.

To his relief, his baby brother was just curled up in his sheets, drifting between awake and asleep. He sat up tiredly when Dick entered the room with a lazy gaze. So, he had listened to Alfred and taken a dose of his emergency meds. Even if Tim hated how pliant, how loose it made him. As long as it stopped him from breaking more skin Dick would take it as a win even if he hated the far away look Tim got in his eyes. How blown out his pupils sometimes looked. Leslie had assured him that it wasn’t the meds, it was the initial episode Tim was having that blew his pupils out and it would go down as the meds took effect. Dick hated how much the black of them swallowed his baby blue eyes. The same way whatever Joker gave him had. Dick pushed it to the back of his mind and ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. 

“Let me change baby bird and I’ll be right back,” Dick said softly and caught sight of Tim’s bandaged hands. His lips pressed into a thin line. So the med dose hadn’t been as willing as he initially thought. 

“Dick,” Tim mumbled and hummed in response, “I wish Jason was here.”

“Yeah,” Dick said softly and throat dry, “I know.”

“Wish it was the three of us,” Tim mumbled as he blinked lazily at Dick.

“Try and get some rest baby bird, I won’t take long,” Dick promised. 

“I feel far away,” Tim said, “I don’t like it.”

“I know you don't,” Dick said gently and laid him back down, “but it will go away.”

He must’ve showered and gotten changed in record time because Tim was still awake when he slipped in next to him. The baby bird didn’t hesitate to turn and curl into Dick’s chest. Dick welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around Tim and ran one hand down the bumps of his spine as the other reached for the TV remote. He clicked it on and a mindless comedy movie played in the background as he held Tim in his arms. Like this he barely seemed like a teenager. Just a kid. 

“They’re healing nicely,” Dick mumbled and ghosted his fingers over the scars on Tim’s cheeks.

“I wish they’d go away forever,” Tim said, his eyes fighting to stay awake.

“They’ll fade, I promise,” Dick said. 

Eventually with a few more runs down Tim’s back and he was gone, head lolled back and breath evening. But Dick stayed vigilant. If it was Jason after Tim he’d know how to get in the manor, would know how to get past security just like he did as Talon. 

Nightwing was on the hunt. No. Talon was on the hunt. Hunting for the Red Hood while the baby bird was snug in his bed at the manor. He hadn’t worn the Talon uniform in over a year yet he couldn’t hunt Jason down as Nightwing. He’d get caught. Nightwing wouldn’t do what Talon was willing to in order to keep Tim safe. Nightwing had lines he wouldn’t cross yet Talon had no problem crossing them. So, he shed Nightwing for the night. For that night he’d be Talon. And he had set a trap for his prey. A Talon always catches their prey. 

It shouldn’t have been this easy to get into the manor. All it took was one cleverly planned Red Hood sighting and a voice note from Jason telling Bruce to come find him and the bat was gone. Never rearming the manor to its full potential. Leaving just the slightest opening for him to get through.  

He figured out the window he crawled through was the guest room next to what used to be his room. Forever unoccupied. He snuck out into the hall, going to the door he knew belonged to the replacement. Yet when he slowly pushed the door open it was empty. Nobody in the bed. Hell the room looked barely lived in. Yet, his door, the one that still had Jason on the door was slightly cracked open. Fury began pumping in his chest as he walked over and pushed the door open. 

The pretender was in his bed . Curled in his sheets like he belonged there. Like this wasn’t Jason’s room he was in. With his face tucked into the pillows he used to use. His entire view tinted green as he snarled and reached for the replacement to yank him to the ground. But he didn’t get that far. Before he could even reach for him a grapnel was wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back. He should’ve accounted for Nightwing being home. For Nightwing to be staring down at him with so much fury he nearly didn’t recognize the features belonging to none other than Dick Grayson. 

“Huh, makes two of us back from the dead,” Jason sneered.

“Touch him and you’re dead,” Dick snapped.

“The replacement?” Jason spat and yanked on the grapnel to make Dick stumble but he didn’t move. Not an inch. He stood still. 

“Don’t call him that,” Dick snarled, his eyes glowing in the dark room. Like this he seemed more animal than man.

“Dick?” Tim’s sleep filled voice made both of their heads snap in their direction. Fury filled Jason until he was fighting against Dick’s hold. 

Just as quickly as the fury came it melted away. Because even if he couldn’t see it through the green haze, the pit saw something he didn’t. The pit saw the scars that adorned either side of Tim’s face. Fresh, pink and raw scars that stretched from the corners of his mouth up his cheeks. Scars that still looked like they had barely healed together. Scars that matched the one that went from his temple to just about his lip from the crowbar Joker hit him with. The pit saw that Tim, just like him, was just another victim of the Joker. Another casualty in Bruce’s plight. One that would be replaced soon if the pattern repeated itself. Jason wouldn’t let that happen. 

“Is he dead?” Was all Jason asked. Tim blinked widely at him and mouth moved without saying anything.

“No,” Dick rasped, dropping his hold on Jason to move to where Tim was but the teen was stumbling out of the bed before he was just a few inches from Jason. Dick hissed, a noise that Jason didn’t think a human could make, and Tim faltered for a moment.

“You’re alive,” Tim whispered with teary eyes, “Robin, you’re alive.”

“I’m not Robin anymore,” Jason said and swallowed down the anger the pit tried to push out again. 

“Neither am I,” Tim was still whispering. His hands flew to cover his mouth and Jason could see scars on his hands in the shape of teeth. Before he could ask what the hell that was about Tim bit down on the soft skin and laughed. Or tried to smother his laugh. 

“No baby bird,” Dick cooed and was by Tim’s side in an instant. His hands looked gentle as they stroked his hair, massaged his jaw, anything to get him to let go of his soft skin. Even as blood dripped down the pale skin and the giggles were mixing with sobs, Jason couldn’t move. What had happened? What had Talia left out? Because this wasn’t the Robin from the videos he was shown. No, this was a victim of the Joker. One who was still struggling to heal.

“Tim,” Jason’s voice was gentle but firm, Tim’s eyes met his and he was grateful to not have worn his helmet for his. He reached out and grabbed his wrist with one gloved hand, running his thumb over another scar that probably came from restraints. “You have to let go.”

All he got was a head shake from Tim. 

“Baby bird, let go,” Dick soothed, Tim’s eyes flickering to him.

“It’s alright kid,” Jason said softly and Tim looked at him once again, “Robin, right? You’re safe with me, let go now.”

Seems like that was all it took for Tim to finally let up and let them pull his hand away before he broke down into a fit of strangled giggles with sobs. Jason wanted to throw up. This was who he had been hunting. This was who Talia sent him after. Just another broken kid in Batman’s crusade.

“You’re back,” Tim cried, “you were my Robin.”

“Yeah? Now you’re mine,” Jason said instinctively which sent Tim into another round of sobs. But this time Dick’s expression was a mix of pride and hesitance. Whatever. Jason didn’t have time to deal with that.

He had a bird to settle and a clown to kill. 

He hadn’t gone alone. Dick wouldn’t let him. One Tim was settled they both went and killed the clown. There was no drawing it out. No torture or make a scene of it. He didn’t deserve their energy that way. Only once it was done, once they were sure he was good and dead and there was no way to revive him, did they sneak to a roof top and take a moment. A moment to breathe. A moment to meet, he supposes. 

“So you weren’t dead?” Jason asked as he dragged on his cigarette. He had offered a drag to Dick whose nose wrinkled in distaste before shaking his head.

“No,” Dick said, “taken by the Court of Owls. Brainwashed, turned into a Talon,” Dick explained, “sent to kill Robin but enough time away from the Court and my memories came back. Just in time to stop a group of Talons from killing him.”

“Bruce never gave up on you,” Jason said, watching as Dick glanced at him, “would always search for you. Annoyed the shit out of me.”

“He never got over you,” Dick said, “but that’s not my story to tell.”

“What happened to the kid?” Jason asked and Dick’s entire body went rigid.

“Joker took him,” Dick growled, “brainwashed him, made him think he was Joker Junior. Pumped him full of gas and who knows what else. Bleached and dyed his hair, painted his skin white and dressed him up like his mini me. Called him Joker Junior. Robin was gone for weeks. By the time we found him he was calling Joker Papa.”

“That motherfucker,” Jason snarled and for a moment he regretted not tearing the clown apart with his bare hands.

“Batman only saved him because it was Robin who shot him,” Dick said and Jason’s mind whited out for a second. Bruce saving the Joker was all he could think of before they screeched to a halt because…Tim shot him?

“Why didn’t he just let him fucking die like the piece of shit he was,” Jason snapped.

“Because it would’ve been Tim who killed him,” Dick said, “and after everything…I don’t know if he would’ve been able to move past that.”

“I’m beating the fuck out of Batman when I see him,” Jason said.

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jason kept true to his promise. Except once the pit had faded and Bruce’s bruise form was under him all he could do was breakdown. The pit had retreated for now, until he found something else to be angry about, but it was exhausting. He had collapsed next to Bruce and sobbed. Bruce had held him through it, took him back to his room only to see Tim in his sheets. His head had popped up at the sound of the door opening and eyes widened seeing Bruce.

“I’m alright,” Bruce assured him then led Jason to the bed. Jason was too tired to care and let himself collapse next to Tim. “Dick’s on patrol tonight, will you be alright?”

“Mhm.”

“Tim?”

“Yes,” his soft voice said. 

“Get some rest, both of you.”

Jason was too tired to do anything but lay on his back. He felt Tim’s eyes on him and how he hadn’t settled back down. So he just opened his arm and soon enough Tim was curled against him. It took everything in him not to hiss at how cold Tim was. He just pulled blankets over the both of them and unconsciously pulled Tim a little tighter to him. It was silent in the room and Jason let his eyes slip closed. 

That night had started the unexpected relationship he had with Tim. For so long he had been hell bent on making the kid suffer. On tearing him apart just like the Joker had done to him. But that night something that Jason liked to think would’ve happened naturally. Maybe if he had never died he would’ve had this with Tim. It was like having something he desperately needed to protect, to keep safe. It scared the hell out of him. But it also meant the tentative relationship he had with Dick just got stronger. 

It also meant that Tim was in either Dick or his room more often than his own. Not that it mattered. It was easier to sleep in the big bed with another body. On extra bad nights it would be all three of them piled into one of their beds, yet never Tim’s. Tim always in the middle. Always squished between Jason and Dick. He was so small compared to both of them it unnerved him that Bruce let him be Robin. 

“He didn’t let me,” Tim whispered one night when Jason commented how the hell Bruce let Tiny Tim don the colors, “I made him. Forced him.”

“Tim,” Dick soothed, knowing something Jason didn’t. He could see it in Dick’s sad gaze and the mournful expression that covered his features.

“Forced?” Jason asked, smoothing some hair away from Tim’s face even if his eyes were closed. Jason knew he wasn’t asleep, not yet.

“Batman without Robin was violent, Batman needs a Robin. Gotham needed a Robin,” Tim mumbled, “so I stole the suit and made him make me Robin.”

“Badass,” Jason mumbled and ruffled his hair. It made Tim’s lips quirk up for a slight second.

“Wally and Roy were pissed,” Dick said softly, “but they got over it, mostly.”

“Wally comes by a lot,” Tim said and then whimpered, “I scared Roy.”

“No baby bird,” Dick said softly and rubbed his back, “it was just a lot for him.”

“Then why hasn’t he come back?” Tim whimpered and Jason swallowed. He wished he had an answer for Tim but all he could give him was a gentle squeeze to his arm. 

“I’ll make him come back, Tim,” Jason said softly, “Don’t worry.”

The relief he felt at seeing Roy was quickly replaced when a fist met his cheek. The hands gripping his collar and yanking him back to look at him. He hadn’t accounted for Roy knowing he was hunting Tim and not knowing that that was behind him. So he let Roy get the hit in, he deserved that much for leaving him high and dry. 

“He’s a fucking kid,” Roy snarled but Jason could see the conflict in his eyes, “he’s just a kid.”

“I know,” Jason said and rested his hands over Roy’s, “I know. I fucked up. Dick knocked some sense into me before I did anything.”

“Thank god for Dick,” Roy said and then let go. Jason mourned the loss of Roy’s hands on his own. “How?”

“Talia.”

“When?”

“Couple weeks ago. Couldn’t get Tim to let me go long enough to come find you,” Jason said and he saw the regret wash over Roy’s face, “Tim, by the way, who you haven’t gone to see.”

“I-I couldn’t,” Roy whispered, “he looked like…and I…I called every day. It killed me not to be there for him, killed me to hear him beg me to go. But every time I drove to the manor I couldn’t get out of the car.”

“I’m back now, so there’s no excuse,” Jason said, “you’re coming to the manor.”

Admittedly it was easier said than done getting Roy into the manor. He must’ve let him through three breathing exercises before the made it to the door of Dick’s room, both deciding seeing Tim in Jason’s would’ve been too much for Roy. Jason gave him a gentle nod before opening the door. He heard the sharp inhale of Roy’s breath as he finally caught sight of Tim and the scars. But Jason’s hand between his shoulder blades led him through the door to the bed where he was sitting up and working on something with Dick. By the looks of it it was schoolwork from where he had fallen behind. Bruce made some lame excuse about illness from his missing spleen, which was another thing Jason nearly lost his cool over. So they had been slowly catching him up. Not that Tim needed it, they all knew he was smarter than high school math. 

“Roy,” Tim said with a smile. Sure, it still looked painful for him to smile. The scars tug uncomfortably at his skin but he was getting used to smiling more often even if it was only for short stints.

“Hey kid,” Roy breathed, “sorry it took me so long.”

All Tim did was give him a short smile before motioning him to get closer. He pointed to something on the sheets him and Dick were working on. Jason knew that Tim didn’t need the help, he was smart enough to figure it out on his own. But sometimes, sometimes, he wanted a break. He didn’t want to think. Honestly, Jason couldn’t blame him. He knew what it was like to think too much and too often. So if Tim just wanted them to finish out an assignment for him because he just wanted to shut his brain off then they’d do it. Even if it meant looking answers up or Dick and him teaming up to solve something that would take Tim minutes hell even seconds.

But the look of confusion on Roy’s face almost made him burst into laughter. But it melted away when Tim laid back down, never a good sign when they were doing work. Without missing a beat Roy started running his fingers through Tim’s hair as he described the problem to Tim yet worked it out with Dick’s help. Maybe Roy was still mad at him, maybe would be for a while, but at least he was back in Tim’s life and just maybe this might help heal another part of him.

“Stop it,” Jason said softly as Tim’s lip trembled.

“They’re awful,” Tim whispered, “I hate them.”

“I know,” Jason said, looking at his reflection. At the scar that extended from his temple to just above his lip from one of the Joker’s crowbar hits. A scar he shared with his younger brother in a way. Scars he wished he could lift from Tim and take them if could.

The weeks had been hard. At first he had dodged Bruce at every turn after their confrontation. It didn’t last long with Dick hounding him about it until he broke down to Dick. Since then the protectiveness that Dick had for Tim extended to him now. Maybe not to the same degree, not as intense. But it was there. And Jason didn’t really mind being in the middle. Being able to be coddled by Dick even if he pretended to hate it and being able to be a rock for Tim who desperately needed more than what just Dick could offer. 

Especially when it came to dealing with the lasting outcomes of torture from the Joker.  

“They’re hideous,” Tim’s lip trembled as he said it and Jason turned him away from the mirror so he was looking at him square in the eye. 

“No,” Jason said firmly, “they show that you survived him. You will continue to survive not just him, but anything. Trust me, I would know something about that.”

So when Tim looked at himself back in the mirror his gaze was firmer. Stronger. Jason couldn’t hide the edges of his lips, quirking up in the ghost of a smile as Tim squared his shoulders and observed himself. Like this, he looked like Robin. And all Jason could think of was how his little brother was the best Robin there has ever been. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t easy going back into the Robin suit. Into the Robin role. He had strayed away from the bright colors and muted the suit. Both Jason and Dick had argued against it but Tim wanted to blend in. He wouldn’t be caught again. The first patrol had ended in tears and a panic attack. But each night got easier. Each time he put the suit on it felt less heavy. And eventually time went on. It had been two years since the whole Joker Junior thing and Tim had moved on. Unless you asked Jason then he said he was compartmentalizing it. Dick said he needed to emote more, like he used to. But Tim found that if he let his emotions out then they’d never stop so it was easier to lock them away. It was the only way he’d be able to keep moving forward. Alfred told him he was too much like Bruce. Tim thought he couldn't be different enough. He didn’t lash his emotions out at others when it got rough, he locked them away deep down until they smothered away. 

It had to be this way. He didn’t think he could function otherwise. 

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Jason asked one night as Tim scoured over some casefiles. He was sitting on Jason’s bed as the older of the two cleaned his guns. It was rare for either of them to bring their work out of the cave but Dick had snapped and snarled about getting out of it for once. So while the other two were on the bed the oldest was doing some stretches on the floor that made Tim’s muscles ache. 

“Why are there league assassins in Gotham?” Tim asked and Jason stilled. He snatched the laptop from Tim to review the pictures he was looking at. It was grainy, hard to see, but they were unmistakable. Leave it to Tim to be able to analyze a picture to its finest level of granularity. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Tim knew Jason hadn’t heard from Talia since he told her off about lying to him about Tim two years ago. None of them knew if Bruce ever revisited that romance. So why were they there now?

“Are they here for you?” Dick asked, his eyes glowing as he stared at them. It sent shivers down Tim’s spine how fiercely protective Dick was of them. How as time went on it only got stronger as Dick and Talon stopped being separate beings and he finally found a balance. 

“No,” Jason mumbled, “they would’ve found me already. Not that it matters, they can’t take back what the pit gave me. Unless they’re here for Bruce, wouldn’t put it past him to keep that from us.”

“He’s supposed to be communicating,” Tim said.

“Yeah? We all know his track record with that,” Jason sighed and handed the laptop back to Tim. He continued to look through the other stills from the abundance of CCTV cameras, trying to track his movement. Find his route. It had to start and end somewhere, right now he only had the journey. No matter, Tim would find him. 

“Maybe he’s back with Talia,” Tim said and that earned him a hiss from Dick. He was the only one around when Bruce was with Talia, the only who witnessed it first hand and how it affected their dad. Judging by his reaction it wasn’t good. So that only made Tim feel worse about this whole thing. Things were finally normal again. 

“Do you see him meeting with her anywhere?” Jason asked instead. Tim shook his head but kept scanning, Bruce would be able to dodge the CCTVs or warp the feed easily so it's not that it would’ve helped much. 

“Master Dick, Master Jason, Master Tim,” Alfred’s aged voice said as he appeared in the doorway. Tim glanced up at the old butler but couldn't decipher any emotion on his face. He never could. 

“Yes, Alfred?” Jason answered for them, thankfully. Tim wasn’t in a talking mood and Dick was busy trying to snap him out of it. All days couldn’t be good days. 

“Master Bruce has requested you meet him in his office,” Alfred said.

“Any idea what this is about?” Jason asked, Tim knew the answer would change if they went right away or delayed it for a few minutes. 

“It has to do with the matter of Talia Al Ghul.”

That was enough to get them up and out of the room. Tim, flanked with his brothers on either side, led the way. He didn’t like leading. Hated it. But at least in the field Nightwing was always first and Red Hood last. In the manor? Tim was leading. So he was the one to open the door and see a young teenager with green eyes first. The teen glared at him as he walked in and sat in the middle of Bruce’s plush couch. It was always so comfortable, he used to be able to nap here through business meetings. Before Joker. Before Joker Junior. Now the emerald color made him want to be sick but if he didn’t stare at it too long he would be fine. If he had his brothers with him he’d be fine . So he averted his gaze away from those green eyes that were a shade darker than Jason’s. Tim wondered if Jason missed his blue eyes. He didn’t even notice his mind was drifting until Dick grabbed his wrist and gave him the gentlest of squeezes. That snapped him back into his own body in time to hear Bruce finish his no doubt rehearsed speech.

“...and this is Damian,” Bruce said and cleared his throat, he was nervous, “my son. With Talia.”

“Your son ?” Jason question, eyebrows raised, “Didn’t you give me so many fucking lectures on safe sex? Even though I was having sex with Roy?”

“They were important,” Bruce said with gritted teeth, “this is different. Damian will be staying with us from now on. Welcome him like Tim welcomed you. And Tim?”

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you show Damian to the room next to yours while I speak to your brothers?” Bruce suggested. Tim felt far away enough that it didn’t matter that Bruce revealed he had a blood son. 

It didn’t matter when Damian huffed the entire way to the room. Or how silent he was when Tim pointed out their other rooms and told him to come to them for anything. It didn’t matter when Damian called him worthless, a replacement, a fake. He had heard all that plenty of times before. It did matter when he felt the edge of a dagger against his neck. He had survived the Joker, this temperamental thirteen year old wouldn’t get the best of him. 

“Dick won’t like that,” Tim said, not flinching when Damian pressed down a little hard, “and you don’t scare me, Damian.”

“Just know your time is up, Drake. Father will see that I am the true heir and I will be Robin, not you.” 

That struck a chord. Tim had fought for Robin, bled for it and nearly died for it more than once. Like hell he was going to let Damian take it away from him when he had barely clawed it back from the Joker, so he leaned in and by the way Damian leaned back ever so slightly he got the glint in his eye that reminded him that Junior never really left. A part of him was still in Tim. He felt the blood drip down his neck and the cool blade be pulled away. 

“You can try, but you’ll have to kill me to take Robin,” Tim snapped before turning his back and storming to Dick’s room. Long enough to clean his neck off and change into the comfiest turtle neck he owned. The last thing he needed was Dick and Jason trying to maim or kill a kid. He’d lie about how he got it after their next patrol. It would be fine. 

Tim didn’t think that Damian would take him seriously on his threat. Sure, there were a few suspicious traps laid out about the manor now. And Damian had been a little too true in his aim when they trained in the cave. But he wasn’t that worried. Not with Dick and Jason there. There was a sense of freedom Tim had when both of them were close. He could let his guard down, not be so alert and float away for a while knowing that both of his brothers would keep him absolutely safe. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when a rubber bullet bounced off Damian’s shoulder when he flipped Tim over and nearly dislocated his shoulder. Damian’s head whipped up and he pressed hard making Tim gasp out in pain.

“Hey you little shit,” Jason growled, “this is training, we’re not meant to hurt each other.”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on protecting this pathetic excuse of a Robin,” Damian snapped, throwing Tim’s arm down. 

“You start respecting him, or I’ll shoot a-”

“Jason,” Tim hissed and pushed himself until he was up, “it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Tt.”

“C’mon, spar with me,” Tim said as Jason’s eyes started to glow slightly with Damian’s scoff. One tug on his arm and Jason was leading him to a different mat to train. He’d be lying if he didn’t say his shoulder hurt, or that there would surely be a bruise where Damian had gripped him, but the last thing he wanted to do was set Jason off so he pretended he was okay. Like he did so many days because he could only look into Dick’s sad golden eyes so many times before deciding to get out of bed for Dick’s sake, not his own. 

Nothing Damian could do bothered him or throw him off kilter. Maybe that annoyed the little brat more, but Tim wasn’t going to play those games. He fucking hated games. Been a part of too many by the age of 20 and wasn’t interested in being in anymore. He had even made Bruce take any gaming systems, board games, and even cards out of the den if he was ever to go in it again. Now they collected dust in the attic where Dick used to hide. So this game Damian thought he was winning wasn’t in Tim’s interest to feed into. Even if it bothered him.

Until Damian cut his line and he was plummeting. His shoulder had been dislocated when he grabbed onto a fire escape to stop his fall an Dick had heard his scream from where he was patrolling because of his senses. By the time he had gotten there Tim was on the fire escape, trembling and gripping his shoulder as he gritted his teeth.

“Tell me what happened and don’t lie,” Nightwing said but his rigid posture made look more like Talon.

“Line. Cut. Damian,” was all he could grit out because fuck, this hurt. He involuntarily whimpered when the fire escape jolted with Jason’s arrival which made his shoulder shoot another lightning of pain down his entire arm and chest.

“That little fucker,” Red Hood growled, ready to take off again but one hand from Nightwing in the air stopped him.

“We need to get Tim back to the cave to set his shoulder,” Dick said, “no bikes, we need the Batmobile.

“N-No don’t call Batman,” Tim said, “he’s on-”

“You’re first,” Nightwing reminded him, something they always had to remind him of. 

Cutting Tim’s line had been the final straw for Jason. That had earned Damian a long lecture from Bruce but that wasn’t enough. Not when Tim could’ve been splatter on the sidewalk. The pit brewed in fury as he watched Dick pop Tim’s shoulder back into place. Heard his stifled scream into the rag he was biting down on because Tim hated any sort of sedative or pain medication now. It sloshed against his insides as he watched Tim’s clammy skin, his pale face, try to get some semblance of rest in the med bay. It would be hard without pain meds but they all knew better than to go against his wishes. Last time they had Tim was still a little too fresh back in the field and when they wore off he had driven the IV pole into Bruce’s side. Not his finest moment, but Jason had to admit he was impressed. 

That didn’t stop the pit as he stormed up stairs to where he knew where Damian would be. Smug in the room he claimed as his own, staring out the window perched on the seat. It took everything in him not to pull him off. Instead he towered over him with a glare that usually sent goons running to their hiding spots.

“What?” Damian asked in a bored tone.

“What the fuck was that about?” Jason snarled and by the way his eyes burned he knew they were glowing. 

“If Drake wasn’t able to catch himself he shouldn’t be Robin,” Damian said as it was the most obvious thing in the world. Jason wanted to throttle him for it. 

“He wasn’t ready-”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does,” Jason snapped, “You don’t get Robin by being vicious.”

“You were vicious,” Damian said with his head tilted, “with the league.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I was,” Damian hummed, “watching from afar. I saw how you tore into those assassins. How you ripped them open-”

“Stop,” Jason’s voice was raw as memories he never wanted to remember floated to the top. Memories that belonged to the pit, not him. Because that was not him. He was a passenger to a murderous beast during those months. He would never be that again and he would not let Damian turn him into that or reduce him to it. Jason Todd was much more than the violence in his wake. 

“Why do you defend him?” Damian asked and for once there was no malice in his voice, no hate, just curiosity.

“Because Tim is Robin,” Jason said, “the best there’s been and best there ever will be.”

Damian watched Timothy closer after what Jason had said. Mother had described Timothy as a weeping, incoherent mess. Had shown him the tapes of what Joker had done to him and broadcasted. At the time it had made him sick to his stomach. Enough time with his mother as he was able to watch them with mild disgust not the nausea he had before. Yet as he watched him now, this Timothy was nothing like he expected. He thought he’d be a mental patient, unhinged and unstable. This was not it. He was always calm, collected. Analytical in everything he did. Damian could see him put things together before Father would yet he never said anything. Never spoke up and let Father think he came up with it first. 

He just couldn’t understand why . Why smother his intelligence, his skill? Why hold himself back when fighting? Damian knew Timothy could throw harder punches. Could kill. He had nearly killed the Joker. Yet when they sparred he held back. In the field he went to disable and not injure. It got him injured more often than it didn’t. Why put himself in the way like that? Why let himself get hurt?

“Grayson,” Damian said one day as Dick stretched. The oldest of them stared at him with a hard gaze. “Why do you care so much for Drake?”

“He’s Tim,” Dick’s raspy voice answered simply.

“That’s it?” Damian asked.

“That’s it,” Dick answered.

That had left him even more puzzled than Jason’s answer had. Neither gave him anything of substance. So he had to choice but to continue watching. Pretending that he didn’t see the scars on Timothy’s hands that resembled bite marks or the faint marks on the sides of his mouth that once stretched into a smile. He pretended he didn’t hear Tim’s screams at night or his throwing up. Or how this always happened when the others were on patrol yet when they asked how he slept he lied and told them fine despite the dark bags under his eyes. 

But he always pretended to be fine. Always pretended to be level headed. 

Until he got a face full of Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

Damian had been running drills in the cave under Dick’s watchful eye. As long as Damian left Tim alone, Dick seemed to warm up to him. Enough to oversee his training to make sure he didn’t overwork himself, something he was constantly guilty of. It was when his muscles were aching, shaking as Dick told him to take it easy and call it a night that the Batmobile ripped into the cave at a rate Damian knew his father never did. But when the doors flew open and both Jason and Father were wrestling Tim out of the car did he understand why. He was screaming and laughing and his hands were reaching out to grab onto Jason yet he swatted them away. Damian had never seen Jason deny Tim any sort of comfort. But he quickly understood when he got his hands on one of Jason’s knives and drove it right through Father’s hand. Both Dick and Damian jumped into action. Father hadn’t completely let go, but he couldn’t exactly hold on to Tim with a knife in his hand.

“Antidote?” Dick asked as Tim continued to howl in laughter and screams. Sounds Damian knew all too well. 

“Given, but it’s going to take a while to work,” Jason grunted as Tim drove an elbow into his side, “dammit kid, it’s just us.”

“Damian, go to your room,” Father said, “you shouldn’t see-”

“Drake,” Damian said strongly and walked over, that stopped him from fidgeting. “You need to let him go.”

“Let him go? Let him go?! Are you fucking insane?” Jason snapped which made Tim thrash in his grip even more. 

“Trust me, Todd, for once,” Damian said, “he feels caged, you need to let him go.”

Damian could see it in the way Tim was squirming away from them, trying to push their hands away and used the weapon on trying to get Father’s grip off him. He could see it in his wild eyes tracing everyone of their grasps as he tried to calculate where they would land next and what bones he could break to get out of it. Damian knew those looks, those thoughts, all too well from his time training with the league. So he also knew that all Tim wanted was to be let go . 

Father was the first to drop his grip, Tim’s shoulders loosening up a little bit despite the laughing and now the small whimpers since he wasn’t screaming anymore. Todd was slower to let go, slower to withdraw, but he did, Tim slumped to the ground. He didn’t run, didn’t fight, just fell to his knees with his hands covering his mouth as he tried to smother the laughter coming from him. Jason kneeled, his hands hovering over Tim not knowing where to let them fall but Damian got closer first. He grabbed Tim’s wrists first which made Tim echo a strangled sort of gasp. 

“We both know I do not like you,” Damian said which made Dick hiss behind him, “but you are stronger than this, Drake. As much as I hate to admit it. So breathe.”

“Cuckoo,” was Tim’s only response.

“That’s not breathing,” Damian said a bit stricter and yanked one of Tim’s pale hands until it was resting over where his heart was. Tim gripped the material of his black t-shirt until his knuckles were stark white. “Breathe.”

With that Tim took a struggling breath. His chest stuttered but as Damian ordered him he took another breath, then another and another. Until his shoulders were shaking with soft sobs, not laughs and his pupils weren’t so dilated anymore. Damian avoided looking away from Tim and to where the others stood. He refused to answer any of their questions. He didn’t need to explain himself but thats all they seemed to want from him when he did anything that wasn’t violent or unkind. So he settled for counting all of Tim’s breaths until Jason kneeled behind him with his hands on Tim’s arms.

“C’mon baby bird,” Jason said softly, “let’s get you out of this and in the shower alright.”

“Damian,” Tim’s voice was small and shaky. But he didn’t continue. So he just watched as Jason helped him up and start their slow walk to the manor. He slowly stood and avoided looking at Dick or Father.

“You did good,” Dick said softly, ruffled his hair, and gently pulled on his arm. Damian let Dick pull him away, up towards the manor.

Thankfully no one asked him any questions.

After Tim’s episode they had come to a quiet truce. Damian didn’t bother him anymore and Tim didn’t follow through on his threat. It was peaceful, easy. Damian got used to the routine. But he was getting bored . He wanted to go out with them at night. His body itched for release of hsi pent up energy and the drills just weren’t enough anymore. He watched them leave night after night. He stood in the cave night after night. Some nights Tim started to stay behind. He’d take Damian up to the den where thye would sit in silence as Tim typed away on his computer and Damian sketched. Except that night Tim was just observing him, watching as his tried to sketch a picture of the garden outside.

“Can I help you?” Damian snapped.

“If you want to be Robin you need to train harder,” Tim said simply.

“What? I am a better fighter than you,” Damian spat but sucked in a breath before he could continue, “I have trained with the best, Mother made sure of it.”

“You have the fighting down,” Tim said, “but you need to be able to help people. If you can’t calm a scared kid down then you can’t be Robin.”

“Help a scared child?” Damian scoffed.

“Yeah,” Tim said, “that’s what Robin does. We help. Kids come to us because we’re not as intimidating as Bruce is, even though he comforts them too. If you can’t picture yourself calming down a screaming crying little kid you can’t be Robin.”

“And how do you propose I train to gain this skill?” Damian asked, watching as Tim leaned back with a smirk.

“That’s up to you,” Tim said, “can’t help you there.”

“But-”

“It’s all up to you, kid,” Tim said and switched the TV on, “I am not going to give you Robin until you earn it, Damian.”

“Give me Robin?” Damian asked because that hadn’t even crossed his mind. He always assumed he’d take it from Tim any way necessary but the thought of Tim willingly giving him the mantle filled him with something he couldn’t describe. 

“I haven’t felt like Robin for a while now,” Tim admitted. In that moment Damian could see every shadow in his face. Ever demon and nightmare he carried was in his sharp cheekbones and blue eyes. “But I won’t give it to you until you’ve earned it.”

“I will.”

“I know you will,” Tim said softly, “for now, let’s watch TV alright?”

“Alright.”

Dick doesn’t know what Tim told Damian or threatened him with but all of a sudden he was following the older boy around closely. Where Tim went Damian was there, even if it was with scowls and often sharp remarks. But Tim always took them in stride. Dick knows Tim would had said something to him or Jason if he didn’t want Damian around. They had made it clear dozens of times that if Damian kept bothering him they’d pack up and move to a safehouse. It was always the same threat they made when Bruce got too overwhelming. Tim never said yes. He just waved them off and let Damian continue.

“He’s just scared,” Tim had told him once after another too brutal training session, “he wants to have a place in this family but thinks he has to fight to get it. He’s just a scared kid.”

He wonders when Tim had grown so wise. So in tune with the rest of them. Dick had listened. He had listened and watched. Watched as Damian started observing Tim closer. Or how he’d shift from side to side when Bruce called them down for dinner as they took their respective spots. Or the pained look in his eye whenever he glances at them during any sort of tender moment. He was just a kid, Dick had to remind himself often. One raised with assassins void of love, of emotion really. So he really shouldn’t have been surprised as his shocked expression when Tim threw his arms around him in a tight hug when he did exceptionally well during a training scenario. One that included comforting victims.

“Yes!” Tim said, the most excited Dick had seen him in months, “You’re so close, Damian. You did so well.”

“I-I did?” Damian stammered which made him and Jason falter. Damian didn’t hesitate, he didn’t question himself or doubt himself. Yet he looked so unsure as he looked up at Tim despite quickly catching up to him in height.

“You did it little bird,” Tim said softly, ruffled his hair and then dragged him away to explain exactly what he could’ve done better. Where he had gone wrong but exactly how to fix it.

“Did I just hallucinate?” Jason asked Dick, “Or are they…getting along?”

“Let’s let them be,” Dick hummed.

It was quiet in the manor the night Tim brought it up. It was just the two of them and Tim was exhausted from so many nights in a row on patrol. It had been the first night that Bruce allowed Damian into a black suit to patrol with him, not as Robin. A test run, a trial. Dick had been furious but Tim thought it was a good idea so he stood down. He stayed with his little brother as he took shaky breaths because he had been pushing himself too far for too long. So he sat with Tim’s head in his lap as he ran his fingers through his hair. They were watching TV but it had been muted long ago as Tim whispered to him about his nightmares. About the ones with JJ and the Joker, anything that would send Jason spiraling. Things only they could talk about when they were alone in the manor.

“Dick,” Tim whispered, tears gathering in his eyes and everything in Dick yelled to find out what was happening with his little brother.

“Baby bird?” He said softly.

“I can’t be Robin anymore,” Tim admitted and Dick could see a weight lifting off his chest, “I know I wanted it back so, so bad. But every time I put that suit on I…I just…I can’t.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Dick said softly, pulling Tim up and into a hug when he broke down into sobs. Because Dick knew. He saw it when Tim suited up. How everything weighed him down. After JJ Tim had fought so hard to return to patrol to be Robin again. But he wasn’t the same. Even with the changes to the suit Tim wasn’t the same Robin. He pretended not to see it because he knew if Tim wanted them to know he’d say something. But he was a trained assassin dammit, he noticed these things before his little brother had realized them.

“I fought so hard,” Tim sobbed, “but I can’t…I can’t keep pretending.”

“You don’t have to be Robin,” Dick whispered, smoothing his hair back, “Bruce won’t get rid of you.”

That’s what it was about wasn’t it? Tim had told him that his place in the family was contingent on being Robin. How Bruce never would have taken him in if he wasn’t. So he held onto those colors with a death grip. It was why he worked himself ragged and never let anyone know there was anything wrong. Tim thought  if he wasn’t useful Bruce would push him aside, now that his real sons were back. Hearing it for the first time had torn Dick’s heart in two. He had been back for a few weeks when he caught Tim pacing and panicking. He had told Dick he could be Robin and he’d leave. Go back to the Drake estate and pretend none of this had happened. It took Dick time to get Tim to believe that no, he was wanted. No, he belonged in the family.

Jason had told it to him too, in the wake of JJ. When he still had relapses and episodes where all he could do was cry and laugh. When he thought he could never be Robin. Tim had begged them to throw him in Arkham one especially bad night. One where Jason needed to take a breather and Bruce had fled to patrol when it was getting too difficult and his meds weren’t working fast enough. When Jason heard those words he grabbed Tim’s chin to make him look at him and asked him to repeat himself.

“ I can’t be Robin,”  Tim sobbed, “I’m just JJ. Not a Wayne. Throw me in Arkham.”

“You’re my little fucking brother,” Jason had said strongly, his eyes glowing a brilliant emerald, “you could be JJ for the rest of your fucking life but you would still be my little brother. Robin or not.”

So Dick held him tightly as Tim mourned. He hadn’t gotten the chance to do that. In the last two years Dick watched his little brother bottle any and all emotions. There was no mourning, no grief over who he was. Who he could’ve been without the Joker destroying it all. So he let him cry, ket him scream until his throat was raw. Let it all pour out until he was slumped against Dick’s chest in pure exhaustion.

“I’m going to give Robin to Damian,” Tim whispered, “not yet. He’s not ready. But he will be.”

“I thought you two hated each other,” Dick said as he ran his fingers through Tim’s hair.

“Always wanted a little brother," was all he answered. 

Tim walked through Damian's training one last time before watching him do it on his own. Pride swelled in his chest when he finally got it right. It nearly burst when he looked back at him with a smile. Not a smirk. A smile. He wondered if this is how Dick and Jason felt watching him trapeze the night sky in their colors. Colors he’d be passing down to Damian. The kid had no idea. No clue what was waiting for him when walked back over to Tim. 

“Wipe that smile off your face, Drake. It is unbecoming,” Damian grumbled but Tim just shook his head with a small smile.

“Follow me, brat,” Tim said softly and led him over to the cases that held their retired Robin uniforms. Except this time his was displayed next to Jason’s. Damian stopped his tracks and his green eyes got impossibly wide. It reminded Tim of a kitten.

“What is the meaning of this, Drake?” Damian snapped with no real bite.

“You’re ready now,” Tim said softly, opening the case, popping the R emblem off the chest plate and grabbing one of Damian’s hands. His young hands held too many scars for a kid, but Tim held his own scars at that age. He gently laid the R in Damian’s hand and smiled down at him.

“Drake, I do not know if I have had enough training for this,” Damian whispered.

“You have,” Tim said softly, “you’re going to be Robin now, Damian.”

“I will not succeed,” Damian admitted.

“You will,” Tim said softly, “because you’re my little brother and I’ll always be there for you.”

“Who will you be then?” Damian asked.

“Don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You should still be Robin,” Damian said with a head shake.

“What about Red Robin?” Tim said with a head tilt, he had played with the idea. He couldn’t be Robin, not anymore. But he still had work to do under the mantle. 

“I would like that, to share it with you,” Damian said, “brother.”

Tim smiled and for the first time in two years it felt genuine. So he pulled Damian into a tight hug. Just as he was about to pull away he felt two small fists grip onto the back of his shirt. 

He had always wanted a little brother after all.

Chapter Text

The coughing racked his chest. With each spurt his hand flew up to his sternum, trying to sooth the ragged and rough coughs that tore up his already sore throat. Point was, he was miserable. Worse was that his right nostril was backed up, just as his left was opening up too. It would’ve been better if he wasn’t trembling under Dick’s sheets with his older brother pressing a cold hand to the back of his neck. He whined and tried to move away but Dick’s grasp was firm. All he wanted to do was both lean into Dick’s touch but pull away from the cold against his boiling neck. His brother’s clawed thumb moved in soothing motions as he let out a soft sob. He was going on a week of being sick with improvements going painfully slow.

Of course it doesn’t help that this was a side effect of some Lex Corp engineered illness. One that was meant to linger, according to Bruce. He didn’t even know how it got into Gotham or why Lex Luthor would need something like this but Tim didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to feel better.

“Shhh, it’s alright baby bird,” Dick soothed, his voice raspy and deep which betrayed just how much sleep he was losing. Being the only one who can go for longer on less sleep meant he appointed himself the one to watch over Tim. 

“Dick,” Tim gasped out as another round of coughs overtook him.

“I know, I know,” Dick said softly, pulling him up so he was sitting to help him breathe. 

“Any progress?” Tim asked once the coughing subsided. He didn’t bother to dry his cheeks but Dick wiped at them with a tissue.

“Barely, Bruce is at a standstill with an antidote,” Dick said softly, “but he’ll figure it out.”

That made him want to burst out into tears again. He couldn’t imagine feeling like this for any longer. And he probably would’ve if the door hadn’t opened to Damian in his Robin suit. Right. Patrol would’ve been ending and his little brother was very adamant on spending the rest of the night with Tim. Even if it was mostly sleeping, because Tim insisted his little brother got some rest, Damian wanted to be near. Behind him Jason stood, already showered and changed, with arms crossed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn’t been dealing well, Tim knew he wanted to head to Metropolis and beat a cure out of Luthor but Bruce hadn’t let him. Metropolis was Superman’s city and none of the bats stepped foot there. 

“Hey Tim,” Jason said gently as Damian walked over and pressed an ungloved hand to his still burning forehead. Nights were always so much worse.

“Still feverish,” Domain said with a frown.

“You can thank Lex Luthor for that,” Tim said, his voice rough and nearly gone.

“Alright bird brain, it’s my turn,” Jason said and motioned for Dick to move but their oldest brother stayed still. 

“He’s doing worse,” Dick said, “I’m staying.”

“Fuck,” Jason curse, eyeing the IV bag that hung next to the bed pumping him full of fluids and antibiotics. 

“You should all get some sleep,” Tim rasped, “I’m not, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“We’re going to be right here,” Jason said, “after the little brat showers.”

“I will not take long Timothy,” Damian promised with a nod and scurried out of the room.

“Now that the kid’s gone, how bad is it?”

“Nearly coughed up a lung,” Tim sighed, “threw up again.”

“I think it’s time we convince the old man to reach out to Clark,” Jason said and Tim stiffened.

“What is it, baby bird?” Dick said, running a cold hand through his hair.

“They don’t talk anymore,” Tim mumbled, “haven’t since I started as Robin.”

“Those two were best friends, what the hell happened there?” Jason asked.

“Don’t matter,” Tim said, “they don’t talk.”

“Tim-”

“I’m tired, Jason,” Tim cut in, “I’m…I’m going to try and sleep.”

“Alright kid, we’ll be right here,” Jason soothed. 

Nervous didn’t even begin to describe Tim as he waited by the large monitor Batman usually was stationed at when he was in the Watchtower. They had gotten there early for a reason. Bruce wasn’t working, he was leaning against the large desk that served as its keyboard while staring straight ahead. Straight through where the Justice League would walk through and see Tim as Robin. A new Robin. He knew they were cautious when it came to Jason, Dick had been snatched on patrol. Deep down he knew this was going to go bad. Awful really. But a part of him hoped, no, prayed, that they saw this as a good thing. Saw how Robin reigned Batman in and gave him something to live for. Then again, when it came to matters revolving around Batman the league seemed to be less understanding. 

“Batman,” Superman’s voice made him stop pacing and his spine straighten. His voice carried authority, it was clear why he was seen as the leader of the league. Looking up Tim saw him stop a few feet from them, his eyes hardened and jaw clenching. Oh, this wouldn’t be good. “What’s this about?”

“This is Robin,” Batman said, standing to his full height. The tension between them was making Tim start to feel sick. He didn’t want to come between them, it was the last thing he wanted. Especially when Clark Kent was such a rock in Bruce’s life especially after Jason’s death. Yet the way he was looking at Tim made his insides burn. 

“After what happened to J-” Superman swallowed but his voice was still so, so angry, “how could you bring another child into this?”

“I didn’t do anything that Robin wouldn’t have eventually,” Batman said.

“Whose under the mask, Bruce? Another underprivileged child who you took in and pulled into crime fighting?” Superman snapped and in a blink was inches away from Batman. 

He knew that Superman was close to the Robins, just as Dick and Jason called him Uncle Clark in their civvies. If he had memorized Bruce’s heart, did that mean he heard both Robins’ hearts stop? Clark had lost two nephews and here was Tim standing in their place. 

“Robin’s identity is none of your concern, Clark,” Batman, no, Bruce snapped. These weren’t the two leaders of the league fighting, this was two hurt and grieving best friends at each other's throats. 

“Son, this is not something you want to involve yourself in,” Clark’s tone was softer, kinder, but still hard and stern. He was scolding Tim for being Robin, little did he know he got the role by stealing the suit and following Bruce out into the Gotham night. 

“I think I do,” Tim’s voice was soft, but steady. It didn’t betray the pounding of his heart although he was sure that Superman could hear it. 

He doesn’t really hear what happened next, not after Bruce asked to give them a moment alone. All he heard was harsh whispers before Bruce stormed to the Watchtower’s mainframe. Tim watched with wide eyes as he revoked his own access, ordered Tim to follow him, and then they were back in Gotham. Back in the cave. 

“Bruce, I’m-I’m so sorry-”

“They do not get to dictate who Robin is. You are a qualified Robin,” Bruce said, walking over and resting a hand on his shoulder for the briefest second. 

Then he was alone in the cave realizing that Bruce had just cut Gotham off from the league. From any help. It was truly just them now.

There were days that Clark hated to admit he missed Bruce. Missed looking to his left during league meetings for any slight give away to what he truly thought of the matter at hand. Cues only he would be able to pick up on. Missed fighting alongside someone who he didn’t need to talk to, one who flowed easily with his movements. But that Bruce had died with Jason, he knew this. Saw it every time he went to Gotham to pick the pieces back up and try to keep his best friend together. Keep him alive. 

But he had heard the whispers. Had seen the news coverage of Nightwing and Red Hood alongside Batman. And the newest Red Robin with yet another Robin. It burned his insides, how many more people would Bruce bring into this world? Clearly that Robin he met so many years ago was Red Robin, so who was the newest little bird he acquired? Even after what happened to Dick, Jason, Tim. The sight was still so vivid in his mind. Bruce rushed through the zetatube after screaming his name carrying a blood soaked Robin. A pale, fragile kid laying in their med bay as Bruce paced. This kid, who reminded him so much of Ryan, made Clark want to crumble. He had met Tim Drake before at Galas and whenever the Daily Planet sent him to interview his parents. He was such a sweet kid and Clark watched him nearly die. So when he heard the slightest whisper of his name in Bruce’s voice he couldn’t help but perk up. 

“Clark.”

Without realizing what he was doing he was soaring straight towards Gotham. To Wayne Manor. Through the cave entrance he had used so many times until he was standing in front of Bruce. A man who was so unrecognizable yet familiar at the same time. His frame was lighter, eyes not as haunted as when he last saw him. Yet there were dark bags marred underneath his eyes. It was silent for a moment, the slightest moment, before he heard two words he never thought he’d ever hear again.

“Hey Uncle Clark.” He whipped around and was faced with the undoubtable faces of Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. Both older, both so different. But he could still see the excited children that ran up to him at Galas and pestered him when Bruce took them to the Daily Planet.

“How?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dick’s voice was so rough, it nearly made him flinch away, but he let his oldest nephew get closer, “we need your help.”

“Where’s Tim?” Dread filled his chest as he watched Jason’s face harden.

“Sick,” Jason said, “some Lex Corp engineered virus. No spleen, you know what that means for the kid.”

“If you can get me a sample of the original virus I can attempt an antidote,” Bruce explained, “ samples from Tim aren’t enough.”

“Where is he?” Clark asked.

“Upstairs,” Dick said. 

They led him up to a room between where he knew Dick and Jason’s were. Even before they made it there he could hear Tim’s lungs full of fluid. Hear him struggling to breathe and his heart working double time to function. His hacking cough was thunderous to his ears. Seeing him was much worse. A younger kid was holding him up as Tim coughed into his hand. His skin was nearly translucent. As he struggled to stay up. 

“Grayson,” the kid’s voice was panicked and the minute the distinct metallic scent of blood reached Clark’s nose he understood why.

“Dick,” Tim whimpered, looking up as blood coated his hand, his chin. Dick hissed and rushed over, hushing the panicking Tim and wiped the blood away with gentle hands.

“Dammit,” Jason cursed.

Seeing Tim in the bed, so pale and so tired, brought him straight back to Ryan. To the first person outside his parents to know his secret. The boy he thought of as a little brother. The same boy he stayed with through his last days, watched him slowly die, and held his hand as he took his final breath. 

“I’ll get you the antidote,” Clark said, watching as Dick helped Tim lay back down. 

“Thank you,” Bruce breathed out.

For a moment he wasn’t standing at the doorway to Tim’s room, he was standing in the Smallville General Hospital hallway as nurses swarmed, continuing doing their job as he stared at an empty hospital bed. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that neither Bruce or Clark were unwilling to break the tension in the room but were suffering its consequences. Tim watched from his place in the medbay bed with careful eyes. Even if they pretended it was fine it certainly wasn’t. Maybe his brothers hadn’t noticed yet, or just didn’t care, as they took turns reviewing his vitals and chart.

“Do you think they’ll talk?” Tim asked softly and Dick stilled.

“I don’t know baby bird,” Dick mumbled, then pushed him gently to lay back down. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jason asked.

“Better,” Tim breathed. 

It hadn’t taken Clark long to get an antidote to them, Tim couldn’t be more thankful. But watching the two former best friends he couldn’t help but want to stand up and do more. Beg Clark to hear his side of the story, beg him to listen to Bruce. Beg them to be friends again. Yet, it was silent and he couldn’t find the strength to move. Then Clark was heading towards them and Tim swallowed.

“I don’t think we’ve ever properly met Tim, I’m sorry,” Clark said.

“Yeah well last time ended in you and Batman fighting over me being Robin,” Tim said and then swallowed, “you didn’t bother to hear us out.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Clark said.

“It wasn’t fair to Tim, he deserved Uncle Clark too,” Jason cut in with arms crossed.

“And he will,” Clark said with a soft smile, “I promise.”

“So are you and Bruce friends now?”

“Not quite,” Clark said and glanced back to where Bruce was furiously typing on his computer, “but we’ll get there.”

“Finally,” Tim sighed.

“I have a uh…a son your age, Tim,” Clark said softly, “maybe you’d like to meet him some day.”

“With Lois?” Dick asked.

“A clone,” Tim filled in and shrugged, “I got bored, I started looking.”

“A son,” Clark said firmly, “but yes. A clone.”

“Fine,” Tim said, “maybe one day.”

“I think he’d like that,” Clark said.

Tim pressed his lips together and wondered if he’d like that too. 

A new generation of Bat and Super. He wondered how that would end.