Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce is a mess when Tim first shows up. He drinks late at night after patrol and becomes ruthless even with harmless petty crimes. Tim has to step in more than once and ends up with more than a few broken bones because of it.

When training with Bruce, the Dark Night is ruthless. He gives Tim no quarter and isn't there when Tim hits the mat too hard and nearly coughs his liver out. Bruce isn't there when Tim gets hit with fear gas and shakes violently in the throes of a bad hallucination.

Bruce doesn't even look Tim in the eyes when Tim takes a knife to the thigh when Bruce fails to notice a thug coming up behind him. It hurts, but Tim brushes it off, just like everything else.

Bruce is almost catching up with Tim's father in terms of alcohol intake. Tim worries that Bruce is falling faster than Tim will ever be able to go. And, as much as he dreams of Bruce becoming the father he's always wanted, he knows that he is nothing more than a means to an end. He's only here to make sure Batman doesn't turn into someone worse than Joker.

Dick calls the house sometimes. Tim knows he and Bruce are still on rocky ground. He and Bruce talk for hours before Bruce hangs up and cries in his study for a few more hours. Tim always excuses himself back to his house. He knows he isn't welcome at the manor past a certain time.

Gradually, Bruce goes back to normal. He stops hitting Tim so hard during training. He stops breaking bones when he lands hits on thugs. He doesn't leave criminals shaking and bloody on the pavement anymore.

Dick starts coming back to the manor. He eats with Bruce, and the two of them talk in person. Tim always knows to leave. He pretends he has homework or something else he has to do. And no matter how much Tim doesn't want to leave and go back to his horribly lonely house, he always reminds himself he is nothing more than a means to an end.

Bruce is better. He talks with Tim about their patrol plans and cooperates. He even helps Tim off the mat when he sends Tim flying over his shoulder. But all hope of having any type of friendly relationship with Bruce comes crashing down when Jason turns up alive and posing as Red Hood.

Bruce becomes desperate to get Jason back, and Tim really can't blame him. He knows how much Bruce loves Jason. Jason is a son to him. Tim is merely an unwelcome sidekick.

Tim spends more time at Titans Tower. He doesn't feel welcome at the manor. Well, he never really did, but things had been getting better. Right now, Dick and Bruce just want Jason back.

When Jason shows up at Titans Tower and slits Tim's throat after beating him to a bloody pulp, Tim feels like he's lost the last safe space he had.

Bruce is by his side when Tim wakes up. But Bruce only asks about Jason. Tim can barely talk and has to write on a whiteboard provided for him by a nurse. He only lets himself cry when Bruce leaves the room. A horrible wheezing noise that makes Tim sick.

Tim stays in his house. He stops going on patrol for a little while just until it stops hurting to walk on his legs. His parents aren't home, so he doesn't need to come up with an excuse. They wouldn't care anyway. If the press isn't involved, they don't bother knowing.

Bruce begins seeking Jason out and begging him to come back. Jason scoffs and turns him down. Tim knows how much Jason must hate him. First, he dies. Then, he comes back from the dead to find someone else wearing his colors. It's a low blow.

But Bruce is relentless, and soon Red Hood is helping them with their cases. Tim is always stressed around Red Hood. Mainly because Hood's eyes never leave him, and he always moves too fast when he's around Tim. Tim almost always throws up when he gets home.

Alfred reaches out to Jason, and soon Jason is eating at the manor when Tim gets there for patrol. Jason's eyes follow him behind his domino mask, and Tim does his best not to shiver. He knows Jason is Bruce's son. He'll always be Bruce's son. Tim is just a guest. But, he still wishes Bruce cared that Jason attacked Tim and left him incapacitated for weeks. Tim's voice still cracks. The damage to his vocal cords is undeniable.

There is a prison break at Arkham, and Bruce needs the help of Red Hood. Tim understands that. He knows that they need all the help they can get. But, he still wishes that Bruce hadn't made Tim go off alone. He had hoped he would at least get to help Bruce side by side.

Tim ends up fighting Ivy. It's unfortunate, considering she's been working on a new type of pollen. It washes over him with a sickening smell. It's sour and stale. A chill runs through Tim's body, and his body tenses. He feels suddenly on edge.

Eventually, everyone is back in their rightful cells, and everyone heads back to the cave. Tim is suppressing the loud clattering of his teeth as well as the shivers that are running down his back and making him shake. He needs to get home. Once he gets home, he'll be fine. He'll take a hot shower, and he'll be fine.

He huffs out a loud breath. Something freezing cold is stabbing at his lungs. Like icicles growing in his chest cavity. He wants a hug.

Tim jumps when someone puts a hand on his shoulder. He takes in a rasping breath. It's Dick.

"You alright? Did you get hit somewhere?"

Tim quickly shakes his head. He just wants to get home. If he can get home, he'll be fine. He'll crawl into bed. Into his cold, lonely bed.

"You should stay tonight."

Tim takes a sharp breath and opens his mouth, but he realizes that Bruce is talking to Jason. Red Hood has a large wound on his leg. He's bracing himself against a table. Tim feels like he's going to cry.

"I'll be fine. It won't take long for me to get home."

Bruce scoffs and begins to dress Jason's wound as he lists all the reasons Jason should stay with them. Tim agrees with him. Jason should stay. There's no way he'll be able to get home like that.

Tim's vision swims as he sheds the last of his armor, and he has to brace himself on the table. He doesn't know if he's doing a good job of hiding his shivers, but he must be because nobody seems to notice.

"I'll, uh, I'm gonna head home now."

Bruce doesn't turn away from what he's doing. He just nods a little and keeps his eyes focused on his task.

"Bye, Tim." Dick smiles at him and pats Tim's head. The touch is like fire against Tim's skin. He wants to sink into Dick's touch and never leave. It's a brief relief from the crushing chill that is paralyzing him.

It's pathetic, but Tim can't help the sharp hiccup that leaves him when Dick pulls his hand away. He should go home. Tim has to get home. Once he's home, everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

But it isn't. Tim can barely walk by the time he falls through the front door of his home. He is trembling, and each breath feels like freezing fire. He needs a heating pack. He knows there are some in the hall closet. But he can't move. His body is so stiff, and he's trembling far worse than before. Every movement hurts. He won't be able to make it.

Tim thinks he'll pass out. But he doesn't. He spends he doesn't know how long in agony, waiting for artic chill to leave him.

He must have gone to sleep at some point because he opens his eyes and the windows are brighter than they were before. There's no sunlight. Not in Gotham. Thick clouds cover the sky, and rain is beating against the windows. Tim hauls himself off the floor. His limbs are stiff, and his stomach hurts. He really wants a hug.

Unfortunately, that was the first experience of many. Tim avoids Ivy like the plague, even choosing to go with Red Hood to avoid her wrath. He would prefer to be with his would-be-murderer than feel that ice in his chest.

Damian Wayne joins Bruce's family. He's a hot-headed young boy that hates Tim with a passion. It seems to be a common trait among the Wayne men. Tim watches as Bruce showers the boy with all the love and affection Tim was deprived of. He sees how gentle Bruce is with Damian during training and has to excuse himself.

Tim trains by himself now when no one else is around. It's not that he doesn't trust Bruce. But, Bruce was ruthless when Jason died. And Tim took far too many hits. He prefers to be alone. But he doesn't.

When a large crime syndicate is revealed, and the bats are called in to help, Tim realizes how distanced from his peers he truly is.

Bruce moves with such ease as he fights with Dick and Damian. Even though Tim has been with Bruce for much longer than Damian, Bruce never bothered to put in extra time to make sure they worked together in concert. Tim is still just a placeholder. And now that Jason is back, he has no place with the bats.

But, he still has to get through the fight.

Watching Batman and Nightwing work so well together with Red Hood and Damian puts a damper on Tim's abilities. His head is swimming, and the thugs manage to get more than a few lucky shots in. One of the criminals manages to lodge a small knife in Tim's abdomen. Tim just keeps fighting.

When all the criminals lay unconscious on the ground, the bats scatter back to the cave. Tim ends up collapsing on a rooftop instead. He doesn't want to go back to the cave. He doesn't want to listen to Damian criticizing him and Dick doing nothing to stop him. Tim doesn't want to see the disappointed look Bruce will no doubt have on his face.

His eyes shift to the shank lodged in his side. Blood is spilling out around the weapon, but if Tim pulls it out now, he'll likely bleed to death.

Taking a shuddering breath, Tim takes out his grapple. A mechanical voice rumbles behind him.

"The fuck are you doing here, Replacement?"

Tim freezes and quickly whirls around to see Red Hood towering over him. Steel-toed boots are much too close for comfort, and Red Hood's guns gleam in the moonlight. It must be Tim's imagination, but a look of glee is covering Jason's helmet.

"I- I don't-" Tim stutters, trying to figure out what he did wrong. His eyes scan his surroundings. He really doesn't know what he did wrong.

"What did I fucking say I would do if I ever found you here? I was kind to you the first time we met. I was merciful. I will not be the same this time."

Tim still stares dumbly. He's exhausted. His ribs are throbbing painfully. Heavy footprints no doubt litter his stomach and back. He was sloppy today. He was a burden to the mission.

"This is Crime Alley, birdy. And you sure as hell don't belong here. What'd you stop here for? Huh? Just on a nightly joyride?"

Tim shakes his head. His ears are ringing. He can feel the shank going deeper as he shifts. The metal must've been laced with something. He can't see straight. He can't talk right.

"Fuck, I don't have time for this shit. Get your ass home, Replacement. I've got other bums I need to take care of."

Tim can only nod as Jason grapples away.

Tim can't get up the next day. He had been quick in the cave. Bruce and Damian were already cleaned up, and Dick was back in Bludhaven by the time Tim got back. It seems none of them had noticed his absence.

Tim had been able to get the shank out of his abdomen. He did it at home, so if he passed out, no one would find him. He was right to do that. The minute he pulled out the weapon, his stomach gushed blood onto the cold bathroom tile, and the world spun out of focus as Tim went crashing to the floor. He was freezing cold when he woke up, so he took a hot shower, cleaned the wound, and climbed into bed.

Now, he's staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his cheeks because he can't lift a finger. He can't speak. All he can do is stare into space as he trembles.

Around eleven, Tim can move again, and he's able to properly sob now. He shakes on the floor, holding himself and desperately trying to get his breathing back on track. He never knew he could feel so terrified. That was worse than watching Jason write a message to Bruce in Tim's blood.

Tim snaps out of his self-wallowing and hurries back to the bathroom. He should get that shank into analysis. Maybe there's a new poison that it was laced with, or maybe it was the metal. They should be careful.

Damian and Bruce are getting ready for patrol when Tim arrives. He'd kicked into his Robin instincts so fast that he completely forgot about how much he had been crying. The minute Damian notices Tim, his face screws up in a scowl.

"You look like hell," the young boy scoffs at him. "I would think Timothy Drake should know how to take it like a man, instead of crying like a baby."

Tim is used to Damian's taunts by now. He ignores the boy and sits down at the computer, pulling the bloody weapon out of his pocket. Bruce has turned around now, and his eyebrows raise.

"Tim, what are you doing?"

Tim finishes typing in the types of poisons and paralyzing agents to search for before turning around and standing up.

"One of the criminals attacked me with this weapon last night. I'm just running it through to see if it had been dipped in something. Or if maybe the metal had something added to it. If there are dealers for this sort of thing, there are defiantly going to be buyers."

Bruce's eyes shift to the computer screen and then to the bloody weapon. "Those are paralyzing agents. Did you get stabbed yesterday?"

Tim nods and brushes it off. He knows that if he doesn't make a big deal about it, Bruce won't either. It's not like with Dick or Jason. When they get, hurt Bruce goes into protective parents mode. But Tim isn't Dick or Jason.

"I just want to know if there are dealers spreading this type of thing. If there are, we can synthesize an antidote."

Bruce nods slowly and frowns again. "Did- were you paralyzed?"

Tim nods again and tries to keep his tone as light as possible. Bruce won't worry. "For a little while."

Bruce bites the side of his cheek, and Damian makes a noise of disapproval. "How pathetic. And you've been crying too. I'd suggest-"

"Wait a minute," Damian is dumbfounded when Bruce interrupts him. "You got stabbed with a weapon that you suspected was laced with a paralyzing agent and didn't bother telling me? Tim that is severely irresponsible."

Tim is surprised that Bruce is having such a severe reaction. Bruce left Tim with a broken wrist on the training mats once. Tim wouldn't think Bruce would care so much.

"I took care of it," Tim says simply. "Besides, you weren't here when I got back, so I assumed you had gone to bed."

Bruce looks confused, and Tim can't help the dry chuckle that slips from his lips. Bruce didn't notice that Tim didn't come back with them. Why would he? Tim isn't Dick or Jason or Damian.

Bruce opens his mouth again, but Alfred enters the room. Tim takes that time to leave.

Tim turns out to be right. The metal had been molded with a kind of toxin jellyfish use to paralyze their prey. An arms dealer was spreading small weapons around. Even a small knick from one of these knives could leave people incapacitated for a while. Luckily, Tim caught on fast enough and found a neutralizer.

It's a few weeks later when the power goes out. Gotham is sent into mayhem, and Arkham has another breakout. Tim swallows dryly as he is assigned to chase down Ivy and Scarecrow with Dick.

Over the years, Tim has found that the only way to fend off Ivy's pollen is actual human contact. Hugs and such. He only found this out when he was desperate to fend off the cold and held tight to one of the nannies his parents often sent to check on him.

But Tim doesn't have access to people who are willing to stay with him and hold him tight. Everyone that is willing to do that is at Titans Tower. So, he'll just have to stay vigilant.

Dick already has his rebreather on when Ivy and Scarecrow show themselves. The rebreather helps with Scarecrow's gas. But Tim knows it won't help with Ivy's pollen. So when plants start to sprout all around them, Tim grabs Dick by the waist and grapples them to a rooftop.

Dick rips off his rebreather and looks at Tim, bewildered.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demands. "They're going to get away!"

Tim notices the familiar shine of Ivy's pollen covering his hands and wrists. Fuck. So he wasn't as careful as he thought.

"Nightwing, your rebreather isn't going to do anything against Ivy's pollen. You need to keep it off your skin, understand? If it gets on your skin, there are going to be dire results."

Dick blinks a few times. "Oh, you mean her cuddle pollen? That's what I call it anyway. Yeah, I know that. I just didn't notice she had dispersed it."

This time, Tim is bewildered. Dick knows about it? All the times they fought Ivy? All the times Tim had been covered in it from head to toe? Dick knew?

Tim shakes off his thoughts and takes a deep breath. He discreetly wipes his hands on the back of his cape.

"Okay, let's just be careful."

They are careful. But, Dick's rebreather gets knocked off his face, and Tim ends up shoving his onto Nightwing. He'll deal with the aftermath later.

As it turns out, fear gas and pollen are a match made in hell. The never-ending terrors, as well as the cold slice of Ivy's wrath, make for something truly horrible. It makes Tim wish he were dead.

Luckily, the two villains are subdued.

Tim is watching Nightwing greet Damian as the power comes back, and Bruce has a proud smile on his face. Even Jason looks pleased with himself.

But Tim's body shakes violently, and his mind begins to swim as he is plunged headfirst into madness. The bats are distracted as Tim's legs buckle, and he goes crashing to the ground.

Dick feels stupid when he remembers how long Tim had been fighting without a rebreather. How much fear gas had Tim breathed? How cold had Tim felt? How had he kept fighting, and why hadn't Dick forced Tim to keep wearing the mask?

Dick was greedy. Fear gas is something Tim hates more than anything, and he'll do anything to keep those hallucinations at bay. Ivy's pollen is manageable, but fear gas is a whole other trip.

He is congratulating Damian on a successful night when Jason is suddenly moving forward, and Dick turns to see Tim on the ground, shaking.

It isn't until Bruce settles beside Tim that Tim begins to thrash. He's backing away and sobbing loudly. Dick grimaces when he thinks about what Tim might be imagining.

Bruce doesn't have any more antidote. He didn't bring any because he knew that he wouldn't be fighting Scarecrow. How stupid was that?

Jason is on his knees in front of Tim as Tim trembles and sobs, rambling incoherently.

Bruce loads Tim into his car and takes off down the street. Dick wonders how he had completely forgotten that Tim was fighting without a rebreather.

Bruce is standing over Tim. His eyes are dark and red-rimmed. He must've been crying again. That means he isn't going to take it easy on Tim. Tim wishes he could have a break. Just a day. Just one. One day where Bruce is nice to him. Where they can play pretend. Pretend that Bruce cares whether Tim lives or dies. Pretend that Bruce appreciates having Tim here.

But that won't happen. Bruce is ruthless. His fists slam into Tim so hard that Tim throws up. He can't understand it. Maybe he's just too weak. That's probably it. His father always said he was too weak. Maybe Jack was onto something.

Tim sobs loudly as a loud crack echoes through the room, and he feels his knee dislocate. He's begging now. He's begging Bruce to stop. He's coughing so much, chest rattling and burning. The smell of alcohol is thick, and the scent of vomit is thicker.

Tim can taste it on his tongue. He can taste Bruce's grief and anguish. Bruce's self-hatred and fear. He knows Bruce is afraid. He sees it in the way Bruce shakes every time they go out. But Tim doesn't understand why Bruce is afraid. It can't be for Tim's sake. That just doesn't make any sense. Why would he fear for Tim and then beat him ruthlessly during training?

'He's toughening you up,' Tim tells himself. He has to. He repeats it like a prayer.

Tim is so tired. He's freezing cold. Maybe he's dead. He wonders if this is how Jason felt. He wonders if Jason saw all these nightmares and memories when he was dead. He wonders if Jason felt like there was an icicle piercing through his entire body.

There's a prick on his neck, and Tim wonders if he's being eaten. He wonders if maggots are burying themselves in his chest and stomach. Feasting on his rotting flesh and laying their eggs. He wonders if worms and dirt stuff his mouth and if there are beetles scurrying over his eyeballs. Maybe they'll eat his eyelids and then burrow into his brain. His brain is nothing now. Eaten by the beetles that feasted on his intellect. That's alright. He's dead anyway.

Bruce feels sick as he watches Tim's mouth move. Tim doesn't have a room here. He never bothered to set one up. When he first met Tim, the boy would sleep in guest rooms on bad days.

He can't remember much from when he first met Tim. A lot of it is a haze of booze and late nights staring at pictures of Jason.

But every so often, he remembers. He remembers seeing Tim cry as Bruce's fists land on his stomach and face. He remembers the terrified gasp Tim made when his leg snapped, and Bruce just kept going.

Every time he remembers something like that, he shoves it away and chalks it up to the alcohol and grief. But then he watches Tim closer. He watches Tim distance himself from Bruce and his sons.

In the time Tim has been Robin, Bruce can't remember if he's ever dressed Tim's wounds. If he's ever helped Tim off the mat or wrapped the boy's wrists. It sickens him to his core.

He's always helped his Robins back on their feet. Even if it was a scrape from climbing up a building, he would clean it and kiss it. Had he ever done that for Tim?

No. Bruce knows he doesn't even have to ask. Bruce doesn't know if Tim ever went to the hospital when Bruce broke his bones. He doesn't know if Tim has ever told Dick or Alfred. He doubts it. Alfred would've put a stop to it. Surely, Alfred would've put a stop to it.

Bruce lifts Tim's shirt, and his eyes fall to the boy's abdomen. There is a large pink scar there. He doesn't understand how he didn't know. He doesn't understand how Tim had been paralyzed, and Bruce couldn't say anything. He doesn't understand.

Tim's stomach tenses as the boy moves to sit up. Bruce gently pushes Tim back down. "Don't get up," he says softly, stroking Tim's hair. "Don't strain yourself. It's alright."

Tim makes a displeased sound, and suddenly, he's crying. Bruce's stomach does a backflip, and he cups Tim's cheeks, wiping away tears with his thumb.

"What is it?" Bruce asks. He knows he sounds terrified. "What's the matter?"

Tim's chest shudders, and he turns his head to one side. He hiccups. "Not real," he whispers. "Not real. Not real."

Bruce tenses. Maybe he shouldn't be here. Maybe someone else should take care of Tim. Jesus, how many times has he said that to himself? Too many. He knows that much.

"It's real," Bruce climbs in beside Tim and pulls Tim tightly against his chest. "I'm real, I promise. It's alright. You're okay."

But Tim just cries harder, and his body is limp. His head lolls away from Bruce, and he looks like he's in pain.

"Please," Tim sobs softly. "I- I don't know what I did. I don't know what I did wrong."

Bruce has a horrible moment of realization. Tim must be seeing Bruce. Bruce at his worst. Bruce and his unrelenting wrath. Bruce breaking his bones and leaving him crying on the mats.

"Nothing," Bruce manages to gasp tearfully. "Nothing at all. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry, Tim. I'm so, so sorry."

Tim's gasping sobs soon turn into choking noises, and Bruce lets him go. Tim falls off of the bed and stumbles out the door. Bruce hears his retching.

The smell of Tim's vomit sends guilt roiling in his stomach. He slowly walks towards Tim. He watches as Tim takes his head out of the toilet bowl and collapses against the wall, holding himself as he cries.

"Sweetheart," Bruce sits in front of Tim, and Tim chokes again. Bruce doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. He had no idea he had hurt Tim so badly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I don't know if it means anything now. But I'm going to prove it to you. Alright?"

Tim gasps and opens his eyes. He looks a mess. Bruce wishes he had known. He wishes he could remember. He wants to remember. He wants to know what he can do to make Tim stop looking at him like this.

"I d-don't understand," Tim's teeth are chattering. Pollen. Bruce remembers that he got hit with Ivy's pollen. "I don't know wh-what I did wro-wrong."

"Nothing," Bruce says quickly and scoops Tim up in his arms. Tim sobs in relief and holds Bruce's shirt tightly in his hands. "It'll be alright now. I'm going to make it alright now."

Setting Tim down on the bed and tucking him in, Bruce gets a good look at his body. His left shin is skewed slightly. A few of his fingers are bent in odd directions, and his right knee looks like it was set in by someone who had no idea what they were doing.

Bruce closes his eyes for a minute and crawls in beside Tim. His heart clenches when Tim clings to him, shaking and sniffling. Tim is too tired to sob anymore. He's just so tired.

Bruce holds Tim close and presses a kiss into Tim's hair. "I'm going to be better," Bruce promises. "I'm going to be better."

When Tim wakes up, his head is pounding, and his stomach hurts. His shirt is sticky with sweat, and the sheets are all twisted around his legs. Groaning, he sits up.

He's in a room he doesn't recognize. His injuries have been taken care of, and it looks like someone bathed him because his hair is considerably less oily than before. He's been having a hard time keeping up with his hygiene.

His legs tremble when he stands up, and he has to catch himself on the wall. He feels shaky, and he hates it.

The door opens, and Bruce is standing in the doorway. That surprises Tim more than anything. He wonders why Bruce brought him here. He can't remember much from yesterday. He remembers falling in the street. But that's about it.

"You're awake," Tim hardly recognizes Bruce's voice. He's never spoken to Tim like that. "There's breakfast if you're hungry. You might want to shower first."

Tim stares dumbly. Bruce is smiling at him. Smiling. That in itself is a red flag.

"I- I'll just get something on my way to school," Tim manages to choke out.

Bruce sighs. "Tim, you can't go to school today. It's Saturday."

Tim's cheeks go red. Is it really? How had he forgotten that? He clears his throat.

"Right, right. Well, I'll just make something at home then." Tim tries to move past Bruce, but Bruce grabs his hand. Tim tries not to immediately yank his hand away. Force of habit.

"Please, stay for breakfast. You exerted a lot of energy. And with your sleep schedule, I doubt you've had very much time to recharge. You still need time to recuperate. You inhaled a lot of fear gas."

Tim remembers that. He gave Dick his rebreather. "Oh, right. Is Dick okay?"

Bruce smiles again. Tim feels tense every time he does. "Dick is just fine. A few scrapes, but that's all."

Tim nods. "That's good then."

Bruce lets go of Tim's hand, and Tim is grateful for that. He knows that Bruce isn't going to hurt him. But he doesn't.

"Tim, why didn't the two of you just share? With the amount of toxin you inhaled mixed with the pollen, you could've gotten seriously hurt."

Tim stares at Bruce for a minute and says very matter-of-factly, "Because I knew that if Dick inhaled fear toxin, all of you would blame me. I figured if I took the brunt of it, all of you would back off for the evening."

Bruce looks like someone just slapped him in the face. He almost thinks that would've been less painful. But his face changes. "Sweetheart, no one would blame you."

Tim's face doesn't waiver, and he shrugs. "Yes, they would. Damian would. Jason would. You would."

Bruce gnaws on his bottom lip and thinks for a minute. He can't just tell Tim everything is fine. Tim needs more than just words. His distance has been years in the making. It's no one's fault, but Bruce's that he didn't notice.

"How about we just get you some breakfast?"

Bruce needs to figure out how he's going to approach this. He knows now that Tim has severe trust issues with Bruce and nearly everyone around him. If he can figure out a way to show Tim that he isn't the same person he was when they first met, then maybe Tim will stop distancing himself, and Bruce won't lose another Robin.

Tim doesn't say anything as Bruce practically pulls him down the hall and towards the kitchen. Tim can hear loud voices. That's not good. Jason is probably down there. Damian too.

But Tim knows how to hide his fear. It's a skill he's cultivated and mastered over the years. It comes in handy facing criminals but even more handy when facing the sons of your mentor.

"Tim!" Dick has an enormous smile plastered on his face. Tim doesn't like that. Why does everyone keep smiling? "You're awake. I was wondering when you'd be up."

Tim stares at him with a straight face. Inside, he's screaming and bolting for the door. But he stands still. If Bruce wants him to stay for breakfast, then he has to do that.

"How do you feel?" Dick asks, serving a plate for Tim and setting it down beside him. Tim sits down.

"Fine," he lies. In reality, he's still nauseous, and memories of nightmares and bad days are at the forefront of his mind. "What about you?"

"Terrific, thanks to you."

Tim just nods and picks at his eggs. His stomach is churning, and his mouth tastes like vomit. He wonders if he threw up yesterday. He jumps just a little when Bruce speaks.

"Jim says everyone is back in Arkham. There were no casualties yesterday, and the city council is still working on getting damage control underway. Things should be back to normal soon. He's asked that we be more thorough than usual. Just in case there are people trapped anywhere."

There are a bunch of head nods around the table, but Tim stills. "Um, my parents are coming home for my birthday. Is it alright if I miss patrol for today?"

Silence settles over the table, and Tim wonders if Bruce is going to yell at him. Instead, Bruce's voice comes out soft.

"It's your birthday today?"

Tim nods. He didn't expect any of them to know. Or rather, remember. He's never celebrated with any of them. And out of the eight times his parents promised to come home, they've only shown up twice. Tim hopes this isn't the case today.

"I can do extra hours next week if you need me to, but my parents haven't been home in a little while."

Bruce nods slowly, and he tears his eyes away from Tim. It's something Tim is used to. Bruce only started to meet his eyes about a year ago.

"Don't worry about that. Tell your parents I said hello."

Tim nods and smiles a little. "Great. Thank you. They'll be home in a few hours, so there is some stuff I need to do at home."

Bruce hasn't heard Tim this excited in a while. The last time he saw Tim smile like this was when he invited Tim on patrol with him. That was a while ago.

When Tim is gone, Dick speaks. "It's his birthday today?"

Bruce shakes himself and nods before clearing his throat. "Yeah, yeah, I guess it is."

Jason scoffs. "You mean you didn't know? How long has this kid been with you?"

Bruce's chest shudders as he takes a breath. He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want to remember how horrible he was in the early years after Jason's death. Not right now. He needs to figure it out.

"We've never really...done anything," Dick says slowly. "I mean, he always went back to his house."

The room goes quiet once again.

Tim's parents don't come home. Tim supposes he should be used to it by now. But he isn't. It doesn't hurt any less when his phone rings and his mother is on the other end telling him that they've decided to stay in Venice for a few more days.

She doesn't bother saying she'll make it up to him anymore. She just wishes him a happy birthday and hangs up.

Tim is left staring at the blue light of his phone for a few minutes. His eyes begin to blur with tears which he quickly shakes off. There's no sense in crying. It's happened before, and it will happen again. He just needs to suck it up.

Since his parents are going to be home, he might as well help Bruce with patrol. Swallowing all his despair, he heads out the door.

The air is warm and fragrant. He can smell grill smoke, and he can hear the shrill laughter of young children in a nearby park. It must be nice, he thinks. To have parents that will carve time out of their day to make room for their children.

He doesn't think himself ungrateful for all his parents give him. But, sometimes, he wishes they cared just a bit more. There are only so many birthdays one can spend alone before breaking down.

Bruce's face is nothing short of surprise when Tim shows up in the cave. His cowl is off, and he's sitting at the computer, reading reports. Damian is in the corner with his sword.

"Why are you here?" Damian snaps, sheathing his weapon. "I thought we would finally be rid of you for the night."

Tim shrugs. "My parents had to cancel. Lucky you, I'll be here for patrol after all."

Damian pouts and turns away as Bruce stands up. "Tim, I'm so sorry. That sucks."

Tim eyes Bruce warily. He stares at the man for a long while before speaking. "Yeah, it's fine. It's not like it's irregular."

Bruce vaguely wonders what Tim means by that.

Jason shows up on patrol, and Tim wonders what type of face he's making underneath his helmet. Tim feels Jason's eyes on him, but he can't tell why.

They don't find anyone trapped. Most criminals are still recovering from the power outage, and all that they find are a few lowly thugs in an alley with needles stuck in their arms.

When patrol is over, Jason follows them back to the cave. Tim still feels Jason's eyes on his back as he peels off his suit. He's sweaty, and his limbs are sore. He hasn't been training as regularly as he should. He still has issues with his legs. They haven't healed right. None of his limbs have.

When Tim is sitting down and flexing his toes, trying to get rid of pins and needles, Jason appears in front of him.

"How come you're here, Replacement? I thought mommy and daddy were going to spoil you or some shit."

Tim rolls his eyes and brings his leg closer to himself. He massages the muscle of his calf. There is a large divet in his shin where Bruce snapped it in half.

"Go away, Jason." Tim really isn't in the mood tonight. He's tired. He just wants to go to bed.

Jason grins evilly. "Damn, you're really mouthy tonight. What's the matter? Disappointed? Well, get it line. I thought I'd finally have a night free without your worthless ass here, and yet here we are- holy shit. What happened to your leg?"

Tim tenses and pulls down his pant leg. "Childhood incident," he lies easily.

Jason scowls and pulls Tim's leg back, pushing up the fabric of the pants. "Bullshit. It looks like it got fucking crushed. What? Did a building fall on you?"

Dick is hovering over Jason now, bottom lip tucked under his teeth. "B, come look at this."

Tim really doesn't want Bruce looking at it. He doesn't need Bruce to see. He doesn't need any of them to see.

"Jesus, it's fine. Would you give a guy some room to breathe? It was just an accident that happened when I was younger. It was years ago."

But Bruce is already walking over, and there's no way Tim can pull his leg from Jason's steel grip.

"What's-" Bruce stops dead when he sees Tim's leg. He goes pale, and his jaw is set tight.

"Do you know when this happened?" Dick asks. He seems to be oblivious to the terror on Bruce's face. Too engrossed in the mangled sight of Tim's leg.

"Dick, Jason, go upstairs with Damian. We'll be up in a little while."

Tim's stomach drops to his feet, and his heart travels to his throat. His ears are ringing, and his hands are clammy. He doesn't want to be alone with Bruce here. He doesn't want to face the wrath of the Dark Night. That is defiantly not something he is up for.

Jason and Dick shrug and leave the cave with Damian whining about Bruce having to stay here with Tim.

When they are gone, Bruce turns to Tim. He doesn't say anything for a while. His eyes shift from Tim's leg to his face and then to the floor.

He kneels in front of Tim and lifts Tim's leg into his lap. "Did I do that?"

Bruce sounds terrified. More terrified than when Dick forgot to turn his comm back on during the blackout.

Tim looks away. "It was a long time ago, Bruce. It doesn't matter."

Bruce looks disgusted. Tim doesn't know why.

"I can't believe this," Bruce's hands are shaking. "How could- I don't know what to say."

Tim gently pulls his leg away and pulls the fabric back down. "You don't have to say anything. I don't care about it, Bruce. It isn't important."

But Bruce doesn't get up. Suddenly, his eyes go wide, and he whips his head up. "Is this why you don't train with us anymore? Do you think I would-" Bruce stops. He seems to have answered his own question.

Tim stands up. "You were grieving. I don't hold any grudges."

"That doesn't excuse anything. I hurt you badly. And I took all my anger towards myself out on you. That wasn't fair."

Tim shrugs. "No, it wasn't. But there isn't anything you can do about it now. I know you'd never hurt Dick or Jason like that. I know you'd never hurt Damian either. So, it's fine."

Bruce stands up shakily. He looks unsteady. "I'm sorry, Tim."

Tim pauses. "Do you...remember anything from when we first met?"

It's a loaded question. One that Bruce doesn't have the strength to answer at the moment. Tim shoves his hands in his pockets.

"It's alright. I know that it must be tough to think about things like that. I was just wondering. Have a good night, Bruce."

Bruce finally comes back to himself. "Will you stay here tonight? Please, Tim?"

Tim gawks. He can't help it. He's never heard those words come from Bruce. He never imagined he would.

"I, I don't- why?"

Bruce is still for just a minute before he crosses the room until he's a few inches away from Tim. "I don't know how many birthdays you've spent alone in that house. I know I haven't been kind to you. So, let me start now."

Tim still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. Taking a shaky breath, he steps back.

“Why? I don’t understand. I don’t want you to pretend that you see me the same as Damian. Or Dick, or Jason. I understand our dynamic as it is now.”

Bruce doesn’t move forward to follow Tim. Instead, he lets his head fall to one side. The look on his face might be sympathetic.

“And what is our dynamic as you understand it?”

Tim feels like he can’t breathe. His head is spinning. Why is Bruce changing all of a sudden? Why is he speaking with such kindness towards Tim? Before, Tim was merely a colleague. But now, Bruce is using the same tone that he uses for all his sons.

“We’re,” Tim thinks for a minute. “B-Business partners. Right?”

Bruce should’ve expected that. He did expect it. But it didn’t hurt any less.

“Business partners? Is that all?”

Tim looks suddenly distressed, and he flounders. His hands move to his temples, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re confusing me. I- what else would we be? What do you want me to say?”

It’s another question Bruce doesn’t know how to answer. He knows what he wants Tim to say. He wants Tim to say that they’re family. But he doesn’t know how to tell Tim that.

“After everything you’ve done for me, I consider you so much more than a business partner.”

Tim shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. He nearly drops to his knees, but Bruce catches him.

“Then why do you act like it’s painful to look at me? Why don’t you help me the way you help Damian and Jason? Even Dick stays here after a rough patrol. A-And I know that my being here is hard for Jason, and I know that I have to right to be angry. I know that, Bruce. But if you claim to have some other connection with me, why don’t you ever step in? Why don’t you stop Damian when he calls me worthless and a waste of space. You’re always looking at me, but you never actually see me.”

To Tim’s surprise, Bruce’s chest shudders, and he buries his face in Tim’s hair.

“It’s because I remember who I was when I met you. I remember all the things I did to you. All the times you cried because of me. And I’m ashamed of myself. I know how much I hurt you, but I don’t know how to help you. I keep telling myself that you’ll be fine, and you’re handling it. But those are just empty lies that I tell myself to feel better. I can’t apologize enough. I don’t know what I can do.”

Tim shakes, and his body goes lax. “I always hoped you would be someone I could depend on. I always looked up to you and hoped that maybe one day you would see me as someone other than the obnoxious kid next door. So even when you hurt me really bad, I couldn’t stop myself from coming back. Because Batman and Robin meant so much to me for so long that I couldn’t bear to see them corrupted. I just wanted to become good enough for you. I wanted you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Bruce’s voice is low, and Tim can feel the vibrations in Bruce’s chest where his head is pressed. “I do trust you, Tim.”

Tim pulls back. His face is blank. “You might trust me. But you love them. And because of that, you know how to fight alongside them. It doesn’t matter how much I train. I’ll never be able to fight beside you the way they do.”

The realization seems to hit Tim like a freight train. He’s known this truth for years. But knowing it and saying it out loud are two different things.

Tears trek down Tim’s cheeks, and he hiccups. Damn it, he’s crying again. He hates crying in front of Bruce.

“It isn’t your fault,” Bruce whispers, and suddenly his hands are on Tim’s face, and he’s wiping away Tim’s tears. “It was never your fault. Yesterday was terrifying because I realized just how badly I hurt you. You were terrified of me.”

Tim opens his mouth to protest, but Bruce shakes his head. “You were, sweetheart. I never want to see you like that again. I never want you to cry like that because of me.”

One of Bruce’s thumbs stops on top of Tim’s cheekbone. “Did you ever go to the hospital? Did you ever tell anybody?”

Tim shakes his head, and guilt makes Bruce feel like he’s going to throw up. Slowly, he presses a kiss to the top of Tim’s head.

“I’m going to be better,” he promises. “I swear, I’m going to be better. And you don’t have to believe me. I know how tired you must be of empty promises. But, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll do everything I can from now on.”

Tim nearly melts when Bruce starts to run his fingers up and down Tim’s spine. “Why? Why are you changing like this?”

Bruce stands up, lifting Tim with him. “Because I do love you, Tim. And because I’m finally realizing just how much you sacrificed for me. I still don’t understand why. But I don’t need to. You’ve done enough. You’ve taken care of me for years when I wouldn’t even take care of myself. It’s my turn now. Let me take care of you.”

Tim can’t do anything but turn his head into Bruce’s chest and close his eyes.

Bruce finds Damian curled up beside Dick. Jason is sitting in the love seat in a pair of Bruce’s pajama pants and a slightly too big shirt on him. He stiffens when he sees Tim in Bruce’s arms. Quietly, he gets up. Dick and Damian seem to be asleep.

“Well?” He asks, keeping his voice low. “Know why his leg is so fucked? And I thought about it, there’s no way I did anything like that. You gotta believe me. It was too old to be a recent break.”

Bruce nods and smiles sadly at Jason. “I believe you, Jason. I do. Let me just put Tim down, and we’ll talk.”

Jason’s eyes follow Bruce as he puts Tim down on the couch and puts a blanket over the boy. Jason can see by the glowing light of the tv that he’s been crying.

Bruce leads him to his room. That’s unusual. Normally they talk in his study or in the cave.

“Jason, I was devastated when I lost you. And for a long time, I didn’t care what I did. I didn’t care to take care of myself or anyone else around me. That’s how Tim found me. He saw that Batman needed Robin, and he was willing to fill the slot. But he wasn’t trying to replace you. He idolized you. He just didn’t want me to get hurt. And I, I wasn’t fair to him. I did everything I could to push him away. And I mean everything.”

Jason is sitting next to Bruce now. He’s scraping at his nails. Bruce pulls Jason’s hands into his. Jason stops fidgeting.

“You aren’t the only one that has hurt Tim. And his leg, his leg was only part of it. I was cruel during training. I pushed him too hard on multiple occasions in an attempt to get him to quit. I projected all my rage and grief towards him. I knew it was broken the moment I heard him cry out.”

Jason rips his hands away, and he stands up, recoiling. “You? You broke it?”

Bruce nods, his jaw is set tight, and he’s frowning. He realizes that this might ruin his relationship with Jason. It might ruin any future relationship Tim might have with Jason. He expects Jason to hit him. But the man just stares at him, green eyes glowing in the dim room.

“I did. It got bad, Jason. I mean, really bad. And Tim was caught in the middle of it. He never breathed a word about it to Dick or Alfred. Dick still doesn’t know. But, I wanted to tell you. Because I know you still feel guilty about what happened at Titans Tower.”

Jason’s hands are shaking at his sides. His eyes move to the floor. His shoulders are shaking. Oh, he’s crying.

“He forgave you as soon as he knew you were alive. Truthfully, he was relieved more than anything. Tim had been fighting for so long. And the knowledge that you were alive made me significantly less ruthless. And surprisingly, he holds no grudges. Against either of us.”

Jason sniffles, and he looks like he wants to hit something. He might hit Bruce. It might make him feel better.

“Because of me, he’s spent the last couple of years pulling back. I think Tim believes that since you’re back, there isn’t a need for him anymore. I know I have no right to ask you, Jason, but I don’t want to lose Tim. I just want him to feel like he belongs here. And Damian despises him. Dick does what he can but we both know it isn’t enough. Please, just try. Try to understand him. He might’ve picked up Robin, but he never replaced you, Jason. Nobody could ever replace you.”

Jason scoffs wetly. “As if I believe that. What? Just because you roughed him up a bit I’m supposed to play nice? How long was it before he was living here and sitting down with you at breakfast? How long until you were sitting with him on the couch and watching movies exactly like we used to?”

Bruce’s heart clenches. “We never did any of that,” he says in a hushed voice. “He doesn’t have a room here. He stayed in the guest room when I got really drunk. Today was the first time he’s eaten breakfast with all of us.”

Jason’s mouth drops open. “You’re fuckin’ lying.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I’m not, Jason. I was an asshole. I didn’t try to replace you. I didn’t want to replace you. If Tim’s parents weren’t away so much he probably would’ve given up by now. But, I guess being here and getting berated by all of us is better than returning to that empty house.”

Bruce’s head is shoved to the side as Jason’s hand goes cracking across his face. His cheek stings and his eyes are wide. Jason shoves Bruce backward.

“When did you become such a fucking asshole, huh?”

But Jason is hugging Bruce tightly now and Bruce hugs him back. He can’t imagine what’s going through Jason’s head right now.

When they get back downstairs, Dick is drawing on Damian as the boy pretends to hate it. Tim has shoved himself into the corner of the couch with pillows around him. This display is familiar to Bruce. It’s something Tim does to simulate physical affection.

Dick’s eyes fall on Jason, and he stiffens. “Hey, what’s the matter, Jay? You alright?”

Jason dismisses him with a huff, and Bruce notices Tim’s shoulders are shaking.

Jason moves back to his position on the love seat, and Dick returns to coloring on Damian. None of them seem to notice Tim. Except for Jason, whose eyes watch Bruce like a hawk as he circles the couch and begins to pull pillows away from Tim’s side.

Tim’s head whips around, and tears are streaming down his cheeks. There are dried tears as well. Bruce wonders how long he’s been crying.

Without another word, he slips in beside Tim and pulls the boy into his lap, keeping Tim wrapped in his blanket. He runs his fingers through Tim’s hair and watches the splashes of color on the screen. The volume is turned up quite high, so Tim’s occasional gasps are hidden. But Bruce can feel Tim trembling against him.

“It’s alright,” Bruce whispers as he scratches Tim’s scalp with blunt nails. “Don’t cry.”

Tim moves as close as he can get, and Bruce hears Tim’s trembling voice. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Bruce tightens his hold and notices Jason crossing the room to where both of them are sitting. Bruce thinks he’s going to sit next to Bruce but instead, he slips into the corner where Tim used to be.

Time stands still as Jason pulls Tim away from Bruce and into his arms. Tim squeaks quietly.

Jason never takes his eyes off the screen as he begins to rub patterns on Tim’s back and speaks softly in his ear. Bruce can’t hear Tim talking back, but Jason shakes his head and nods in response.

Eventually, Tim stops shaking, and his back moves as he takes deep, slow breaths. He’s asleep now.

And Bruce is further surprised when Jason doesn’t get up. He keeps Tim tight in his arms and watches the screen. Bruce reaches over and rubs the back of Jason’s head. Jason turns to look at him with glossy eyes.

Bruce takes a deep breath and smiles at Jason. He’ll be better. He’ll be better because he knows he’ll lose Tim if he isn’t.