Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even though he was technically free, it didn't quite feel like it when he stepped out of the cab and onto the busy sidewalk. It had been one year, two months, fourteen days, twelve hours, and thirty-no thirty-three seconds since he'd been in the one place that always seemed to be home no matter how many times he left it.

Gotham was home whether he liked it or not.

A rough shoulder runs into him as harsh words are directed at him. He couldn't help but softly smile at this interaction. If this would've happened before under his watch they would've been swiftly executed right then and there. But here. Here he was no one. No one of importance after stepping down from WE to take a "sabbatical". Another thing that was swept under the rug by the bats.

They probably didn't even realize he was gone. Or maybe they did and didn't care, maybe they thought he was on an assignment. 'stop making excuses for them, they don't care. They never did.'

Moving further down the sidewalk he makes his way to crime alley in under fifteen minutes. Which was a little surprising nonetheless. Getting to his door, he punches in the necessary passcodes and proceeds to open the door. Letting his bag fall to the ground with a loud thud, he finally allows his shoulders to fall and his body to relax a little as he shuts the door.

He was safe here. He could breathe here.

Only those he still somewhat trusted could enter, plus this would be the last place he would look for him. He wouldn't expect him to come to the nest, he would expect him to go crawling back to the bats. So he could rest here while coming up with a new plan.

A plan that would end up changing the course of his life more than it already had in the past year.

Moving over to the kitchen, he finds that a good majority of his stuff needs to be thrown out, considering he hasn't been there in over a year he was surprised not all of it needed to be trashed. He moved to grab the empty trash can but found himself slinking to the ground, a wave of lightheadedness smacking him square in the face.

Maybe this could wait till the morning.

After emptying his stomach into the trash can next to him, he lets his head and stomach settle before getting to his feet and making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth a couple of times to get rid of the vomit taste that seemed to cling to his taste buds. Scrubbing and scrubbing until his tongue was red with blood.

When his vision clouds with red he finally snaps out of it and puts the toothbrush down.

It took him exactly two minutes and thirty-nine minutes to leave the bathroom and move to his bedroom. The soft mattress and clean sheets seemed to call to him. A sweet sound gently hits his ears as he lets his body sink and be swallowed whole. Letting the comfort of blankets chew him up and spit him back up if it meant he would get one night of not looking over his shoulder.

One night of getting a few hours a night.

One night of not having to worry about the person next to him.

Just one night.

Just one night.

But as luck would have it, he wouldn't be able to afford that luxury, not when there was a clunking noise in his apartment at two thirty in the morning.

Someone had gotten in.

Someone had…

A mental groan played in his mind as he got up from the bed, his hand instantly going for the blade he kept under his bed. Why couldn't he just be left alone? Was one night of good sleep so much to ask for?

Moving over to the doorway, his vision clouds over with green when he gets the drop on the intruder. Everything was screaming at him, screaming at him to finally give in and let his influence win. Give in and let the darkness he'd been fighting for so long win and-

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Take him out swiftly. Effortlessly. Painlessly.

Faster than the intruder knew what hit him, Tim had him pinned to the floor, the sound of crunching made his stomach flip a little. He couldn't puke now. He had to hold it. Hold it. Hold. It.

Be a good boy, hold it in.

With his free hand he holds the katana blade to the intruder's throat but stops when red flashes in his vision chasing the green away, “Woah, Tim, it's me. It's Jason.”

Tim starts to let up his hold a little, releasing Jason seconds later after grabbing a hold of his gun. Another flip from the sudden movement has Tim lurching for the trash can, gun still aimed at Jason as he throws up for what felt like the millionth time that day (he couldn't hold it anymore, too much, too much), “Timmers put the gun down, we both know-.”

A gunshot rings out cutting Jason off as a bullet zips past his helmet grazing the side of his head. The rush of it all makes him rethink everything he thought he knew about the boy- no Tim wasn't a boy anymore he never really was.

This was just a warning shot. Red knew that Tim wasn't playing around. His heaving stopped for a moment for him to state, “Just because I'm puking doesn't mean I won't shoot you where you stand and throw your body out the window.”

Threat. Kill him. Kill him NOW!

“Don't try me-.” Tim was cut off by another wave of nausea slamming into him causing him to throw up more stomach acid.

“Hear ya loud and clear, baby bird,” Jason exclaims as he holds his hands up to show Tim he isn't going to try anything.

When Tim finally stopped puking he went straight back into the conversation, doing his best to push the growing concerns aside and focus on what was right in front of him, “What the hell are you doing here and what do you want?!”

“For starters,” Jason states as he lifts his hands up to take off the helmet, he wanted Tim to see his face and not the hood, a small courtesy to show him he wasn't going to hurt him, “I want to know where you've been for the past year.”

“Didn't you hear?” Tim explains sarcastically, “I took a sabbatical. Well-deserved vacation.”

“Cut the shit, Tim,” A look of anger and concern flashed across his face as he continues, “You may have been able to fool everyone with that but I'm not stupid.”

A glare to match his at its worst was sent his way. Jason was taken aback by how he seemed to have perfected it, how it was terrifying and getting his attention at the same time. Venom laces his words, “Get out.”

“No, not until I at least know you're okay,” Jason tells him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he sets the gun on the island counter and retorts just as venomously as before knowing full well that Jason wasn't going to back down, “Either get out or shut the fuck up. I'm going back to bed.”

Tim glares at him before slowly going back to his room. He didn't want to move too fast and throw up again.

He knew letting Jason was probably going to bite him in the ass but he honestly didn't care at this point.

All of his worries and issues would be tomorrow's problem.

Tomorrow he'd take care of everything.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. It has to be.

He's free now. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Chapter Text

Peppers.

That was the first thing that hit his nose when he stirred awake later that morning. It was the smell of peppers that made the nausea slosh around in his stomach.

Getting to his feet, he found himself pulling his shirt up over his nose and venturing out into the kitchen, the thought of homicide or throwing the peppers out crossed his mind. He'd decide when he gets to the kitchen. Picking the less violent of the two options, he enters the kitchen and grabs the pan off the stove. Easily walking off with it as Jason had his back turned, working away at the island, in blissful unawareness, headphones plugged in as what Tim guessed was an audiobook playing. Opening the window, Tim nonchalantly dumps the contents out, doing his best not to gag on the smell as he moves his shirt down before shutting the window.

Moving back over to the stove, he sets the pan back down and lightly punches Jason's shoulder to get his attention, “No peppers.”

Jason pulls his headphones out and asks what, acting as if he hadn't heard him which earns him a glare from Tim. The look on Jason's face made him want to punch him in the face or maybe something a little more drastic. Jason just playfully laughs him off and paused his audiobook, “Whatcha want for breakfast, Timmy?”

Tim stopped for a moment, thinking about what he wanted. It has been a while since he was asked. He was normally just brought stuff or forced to sit next to him and eat whatever was prepared by the staff. The only time he got to pick was his birthday. That felt like such a lifetime ago.

His lip curls upward a little as he replies, “Bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs.”

It was mundane and easy but that was one of thing he desperately craved. “Alright, coming right up.”

Jason turns back to the food while Tim ventures over to his book shelf, so many of these books were left unread. Maybe now that he's got a lot of time on his hands he'd be able to actually sit and read them. Moving over to the bag he put on the couch the day before, he pulls out three bottles and proceeds to take one from two of them before taking the third and throwing it in the trash.

Proper drug disposal be damned, he didn't have enough spoons to care.

Moving back over to the couch he picks up the bag and proceeds to toss it into his bedroom before sitting down on the couch, keeping his distance from the kitchen. As much as he wanted to break down and let Jason wrap his arms around he knew he couldn't.

Because if he knew one thing for certain the demon's head never stayed dead for long.

And he's coming for him the second he recovers.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Tim listens to the noises around him. The cars honking below, people yelling, police sirens. The normalcy of it started to sink its way back into the boy's skin. He might have left Gotham but Gotham sure as hell didn't leave him. Maybe he could rest and finally heal here.

Maybe he could learn to trust again.

All of his senses were thrown into overdrive the second Jason's hand found its way to his shoulder, before he could really process what he was doing Jason was on the ground, his face pushed into the carpet, arm twisted behind him. Quickly getting off him, Tim repeats like a montra, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“You're alright, “Jason tells him as he gets up off the floor, moving his shoulder around to get the stiffness and the pain to go away, “Need the trash can?”

Tim shakes his head and Jason continues, “I tried getting your attention but it's like you weren't hearing me. Come get food.”

Moving to the island, he picks up the fork and proceeds to shovel a small amount of eggs into his mouth. His eyes water as he scoops another bite into his mouth. Stupid emotions. Stupid hormones.

He wasn't going to cry. Not over breakfast.

He wasn't.

But he did.

The second Jason sat down he lost it. A few tears escaped his eyes as he put the fork down and proceeded to bury his face in his hands, his body racked with sobs as his breathing picked up a little.

“You're so beautiful when you cry like this beloved.”

Tim's body froze.

Was this a ploy? Was this just some sick hallucination tactic? He couldn't be here. He couldn't.

Tim felt like couldn't breathe. He could feel his hands on him, holding him down, keeping him in place.

Getting off the chair and sinking to the floor, Tim tries to curl in on himself and appear small. Maybe if he did this, maybe he would leave him alone.

“Please…” Tim’s voice whispered, “please, I don't want too…you got what you wanted…”

Jason's heart smashed to pieces when he saw Tim, his first instinct was to wrap him in a hug but right now if he tried, he was sure that Tim would knock him on his ass. “Tim. Tim!”

Tim's head snaps up and he looks at Jason with tearfilled eyes, the natural blue teetering into green territory and it makes Jason's skin crawl. “Look at me, you're safe, you're okay.”

“What did he do to you?”

Breaking down even more than he thought was possible, he allows Jason to scoop him up and bring him closer to his chest. Jason slowly starts to work a hand through Tims hair, leaving little scratches along the top of his head. The sweet affirmations leaving his lips only seemed to make Tim shake and cry harder.

“It's gonna be okay Tim, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'm not leaving you again.”

It took hours before Tim was able to string a few sentences together, “I'm sorry.”

“You've got nothing to be sorry for.” Jason explains, “I'm not gonna push you to talk to me but you should talk to someone about what happened. Keeping it in isn't good.”

He sniffles a little but doesn't move. He wants to live here, right here in Jason's lap. Here, where he felt safe, felt calm, and felt warm. He couldn't hurt him here. “Here,” Jason explains as he lifts both himself and Tim up off the floor, “let's finish breakfast and then we can sit on the couch and just breathe. You need to eat something, especially with how much you threw up last night.”

Nodding, Tim lets Jason put him on the stool and proceeds to nibble a bit at his toast and eggs, saving the bacon for last. He knew he needed to start taking better care of himself. So maybe breakfast was a good start.

He managed to eat a good majority of his breakfast and found himself sitting next to Jason on the couch. His legs dangling over the olders as they mindlessly watched what was on TV. He could trust Jason. Can't he? He has helped him before. There were many times, many times Jason could've walked away and left him but he stayed. He stayed each and every time.

“Jay…”

“Hmm.”

“What did they tell you?”

Jason hesitates before answering, “They said that you had left. That they couldn't find you. Bruce has called in almost all of his favors before he finally was pulled away from looking for you.”

Tim was taken aback by Jason's words, Bruce looked for him. He really tried to find him? “I was told that he didn't even try after the message I left. That you all had accepted the fact that I was gone and never coming back.”

Jason turns to him and interjects, “Tim I know we haven't always been on the best of terms but your family. We would always fight for you whether you wanted us to or not. That's what family does.”

Family?

Family.

It's funny to think that's how all of this got started. All because Ra’s Al Gual wants an heir. A sick attempt at a twisted family. And Tim just wanted Bruce back.

Bruce was back and Tim was left to pick up all the pieces.

The nausea came back in full swing causing Tim to curl up even tighter. He wanted it to stop, he wanted it to go away, something he could just forget about.

But it wasn't something he could forget about. Not something he could will away.

He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. It was a part of him in a way and that's what he chose to hold on to.

Ra’s wouldn't be able to ruin. He wouldn't let him. Because if there was to be one good thing that's come of his time with the assassins it was going to be this.

And no one could take that from him.

No one.

Chapter Text

“That's it, beloved.” His voice was soft but his hands were cruel. “Just like. You're doing so well.”

His cries were muffled by a hand around his throat. His eyes were fixed on him, they had to be, “I knew you'd start to enjoy our lovemaking.”

Tim felt sick to his stomach as his body betrayed him with arousal. He could still feel his grip on his wrists, the bruises and bite marks that littered his skin. His moans made Tim retreat back into his head.

He'd always go back to good memories when he'd stay at the manor for the holidays. How the family came together and it actually felt like they were a family. He'd drown in his memories until he was forced back into the present by a painful slap to his face followed immediately by more choking.

“You're mine, beloved.” The sinister smile that Tim came to associate with him swam in his head as he got a little lightheaded, his body thrown into a mixture of pain and pleasure, “Never forget that.”

-

At five in the morning, Tim found himself scanning the shelves of the 7/11 by his apartment. He wanted something to eat but his brain was too frazzled to think clearly about what it was he was hungry for.

Grabbing a mixture of different items, said items being zesty hot dill pickles, vanilla frosting, and saltine crackers, he makes his way to the counter and sets them down. Tapping his foot as he waits for the cashier to ring up his items, the door rings as it's opened and five men come walking in.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were here to do.

Tim could only groan in response when the guns started to go off. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. He’d rather be at home eating his wired concoction lazily on the couch not being held at gunpoint by sloppy would-be robbers.

“Look who we have here,” one of them says as he gets a better look at Tim, “we've got our very Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

He flinches at the name and instantly regrets leaving his house. Stupid weird craving.

“I think we just got our big break. Do you know how much this brat is worth?” The robbers shake their heads in response.

The ringleader of the group moves over to Tim and the gun rests on his abdomen.

He sees green and he doesn't know exactly what happens after that.

He remembers screams and then everything faded in and out, time seemed to blur together. Nothing was in focus. He could taste bile on his tongue. Did he throw up again?

Flashing lights and hands on his shoulder bring him back, “You alright?”

Tim could only look at him. He couldn't form words, he couldn't think and he hated it, “You hurt or injured?”

Tim shakes his head, he didn't hurt. Why would he ask that? Upon looking down he found his answer. He had blood all over him. But he was sure it wasn't his, he didn't hurt.

“Let's get you over to the ambulance-.”

Before the officer could say anything else Tim cut him off, his head shaking, “No ambulance..No hospitals. M’ fine.”

“Okay, we didn't have to do that.” The officer tells him, “I've got some questions I want to ask but we're gonna go to the precinct okay. We can find you some clothes you can change into and we can get that blood off.”

Tim gets led to the car and the officer asks, “Got a name kid? Anyone you want us to call?”

“Tim Drake.” He pauses and thinks for a moment, “Can you have Gordon call Jason?”

The officer nods and keys up over the radio. Tim falls back into silence. A question eagerly waiting in the back of his mind, a question that had to wait till he got back to the nest to answer.

When they get back to the precinct, he gets led out of the car by the officer, when they walk through the door Jason's sitting on the bench in the lobby waiting for them. When he spots Tim he gets up from the bench and is about to pull the smaller into a hug but stops when he notices the blood, “It's not his, Mr. Peters. We’ll grab some clothes from the lost and found and have him change out of the bloody ones before we start with questions, just to get his side of the story, he's not under arrest.”

Jason nods and follows the officer to the washroom, Tim clutching his hand like his life depended on it.

Once in the washroom, the officer hands Jason some clothes, an evidence bag, and says before he exits the room, “I'll be outside, holler if you need anything.”

Nodding, Jason turns his attention back to Tim who stands there, stiff and still, eyes blankly looking at the wall. He couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Tim so out of it. “Come on baby bird, let's get you cleaned up.”

Jason gently tugs Tim’s shirt up and proceeds to marvel at the tattoo that covered his back and tailed down his arms, it was beautiful. Tim didn't think he'd even know what it meant. Not many did. He knew he'd never let Damian see it. He didn't want to see the look on the demon spawn’s face. After all, it was a lovely gift (brand of ownership) from his grandfather after he'd successfully broken him down.

After getting him undressed, he gently rinses away the blood from his skin, taking in his features as it circles the drain. Tim had filled out a little, a small amount of muscle found its way to his legs and his arms, a fading six-pack on his abdomen, slowly getting replaced by a small bloat. Scars and older, almost fully healed wounds, ranging from stabs, scratches, and bite marks.

His body looked like it had been through hell and back.

It made him wonder what had happened to him. He tried not to think too much about the bite marks.

Once the blood was completely off, Jason grabbed a towel and started to dry him off. Starting with his hair and then his shoulders, coming to a stop when Tim places a hand on his own. “I can…do the rest…”

Jason nods and hands the towel to Tim, turning away from him, giving him some much-needed privacy before grabbing the bloody clothes and shoving them into the evidence bag. He hands the bag off to the officer outside and he turns around to find Tim, fully dressed standing by the sink. A hand in his hair, slightly tugging at it.

Jason takes off his jacket and wraps it around him, hoping it helps him feel safe.

The two exit the washroom and proceed to follow the officer who escorted Tim to the police station to an interview room. Tim sits down and rests his hands on his lap, before he can process what he wants to say he blurts out, “Did I kill anyone?”

Jason's grip on Tim's hand tightened a little as he gave him a few reassuring squeezes, “No you didn't, they just have a few bullet wounds from their shots ricocheting. You only gave them broken bones and possible concussions.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Tim nods, squeezing Jason's hand before he starts, “I was hungry and wanted something to eat and most grocery stores aren't open so I stopped at the 7/11. The clerk started to ring up my items when they came in and let off a few shots. The leader of them recognized me and told the others they had made their big break. He put the gun against me and-.”

Tim's breath hitched in his throat, “I-I..I don't know what exactly happened after that.”

Closing up his notepad the officer says, “That's to be expected with a traumatic experience. Here's my card if you remember something that you think is important. Get home safe, Mr. Drake, Mr. Peters.”

He leaves the room and Tim stands up, hands shaking a little as he wraps his arms around Jason's right arm, “Come on, baby bird, let's get you home.”

The ride back to Tim's apartment was quiet and soothing. Jason let Tim fiddle with the fingers of his right hand while his left stayed on the steering wheel. Tim's leg bounced with anticipation when the car pulled into the garage. Tim exits the vehicle and moves towards the elevator, Jason following closely behind him.

The not knowing was killing him and the only impending sign that everything was still okay was that fact he hadn't started bleeding.

“What were you hungry for?”

Tim looks at Jason and replies, “Zesty pickles, vanilla frosting, and saltine crackers.”

Knowing he didn't have that in his possession Jason asks, “Will french toast work?”

“Make it toast with butter and brown sugar sprinkled on top and you've got a deal.” Tim gives him a smile and when the door opens Jason stalks over to the kitchen while Tim slips down the hall to the med bay.

Pulling over the ultrasound machine, Tim grabs the gel and the wand and moves it around until it hits the correct spot. A rhythmic thumping noise brings a smile to his face. After a few minutes of looking around and double-checking he sees that it looks normal for an eight and half week fetus and turns the machine off.

He didn't know what would happen if he lost it. He couldn't lose it.

Not again.

He couldn't handle what would happen to him again.

He just couldn't.

Chapter Text

Six hours later Tim's plan of staying under the radar exploded. 

He should've been more careful. He knew better. Stupid!

The second Bruce's contact flashes across his phone he does the one logical thing he can think of (it's not logical) and throws his phone as hard as he can against the wall, watching it splinter. “Woah, Tim what the hell?”

Tim gets up from the couch and enters his room. He grabs the same old duffle from the closet and shoves a few things into it. It was time to put his half-assed plan into motion. He couldn't let the league find him here at the nest. 

He couldn't let them get their hands on it.

Jason gently puts a hand on his shoulder, “So what are you just going to leave again? What are you running from?”

Tim stays quiet.

He didn't dare answer.

Didn't dare speak out of turn.

“Baby bird, please,” Jason tilts Tim’s chin up so he's looking at him when he continues, “Let me help you. Let us help. What's got you so spooked? What are you running from?”

Tim couldn't bring himself to speak. He places his hands on Jason’s shoulders and pushes with enough force to get to move to the side, he brushes past him stopping at the island, letting his hand slide to the bridge of his nose. He pinches the skin together in an attempt to get his brain to shut up. 

If the media outlets already had his name out there it wasn’t too long before the league would catch wind. 

Well what was left of it.

“Tim,” Jason goes to move closer to Tim, everything was fuzzy and his head was swimming. Grabbing the gun from the hidden compartment in the island he points it at Jason, green swirling in his eyes, “what the fuck.”

Over the span of a week, Tim had pointed a gun at Jason twice and he couldn’t tell if he should be concerned that this was starting to become a habit. 

Tim couldn’t form a coherent sentence, tears pricked at his eyes as he set the gun down and said, his voice a choked out whisper, “Nest activate  Lockdown Protocol 987-48.”

The automated voice never spoke but Jason felt a hint of fear as everything started to shut down. Steel slid over the doors and windows, clicking into place. Nothing was getting in or out unless he wanted it to. 

Tim’s eyes flicker to Jason who just stood there with an even more concerned look on his face. He sends a glare his way before he sets the bag he was holding down and goes to his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

He needed to think…

He needed…

He needed a nap…

Letting out a yell of anger he punches his hand right through his bedroom door before he stalks off to his bed and climbs under the covers cocooning himself underneath the amount of blankets he has littered around his queen sized bed. Allowing the darkness to take hold, not caring how his actions looked to Jason. 

__________________

“Wake up, beloved.” His voice was soft and misleading. He was never nice, only cruel. “I need you awake for this.”

Tim’s body lurches forward, a silent cry escaping his lips as his hand flies to his mouth to muffle the sound, the blankets around him get removed, his breath coming out in a wave of panic as palace-like walls vanish from sight. He had gotten good at keeping his little panic episodes quiet, he didn’t like when Tim made too much noise. 

Getting out of bed he wraps a blanket around his body and ventures out of his room to the kitchen to get a glass of water. His entire body was on edge but he was thirty and knew he needed to stay hydrated. Bringing the cup to his lips takes a few drinks before setting it on a coaster. His eyes scanned the living room, the soft glow of the television illuminating Jason’s figure on the couch. 

He could still feel the phantom of his finger tips on his skin, it all made his skin crawl.

The water running in the bathroom was the first thing that Jason heard when he woke up. Glancing at the clock on his phone and saw that it read 03:21 am. ‘Why is Tim taking a shower at three in the morning?’

He slowly opens the bathroom door, flicking the lights on so he can get a better look at what's going on and finds Tim sitting in the bathtub, skin rubbed raw and shaking, “Tim!”

Tim didn’t even move when his name was called, his eyes looked dull and lifeless. Jason shuts the water off and quickly wraps a towel around Tim’s shoulders. He goes to slide his hands underneath his arms to get him out of the tub and everything turns to dead weight. Even though he was small, Tim was heavier than he looked. 

Once he's out of the tub, Jason quickly starts to get all the wet clothes off, stopping when he gets Tim’s pants off. Horrified by what he sees..we’ll lack there off. ‘How the hell did he miss that before?’

Pushing the discovery to the back of his mind, he focuses on Tim who still looked lifeless. The only thing that was a tall tell sign he was alive was the fact his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Jason brings the towel up to Tim’s hair and proceeds to dry it quickly before moving down his body.

Jason leaves and goes to Tim’s room to gather clothes and comes back to find Tim with his knees curled back up to his chest, the same blank expression on his face. He quickly and modestly gets dry clothes on the boy and moves him to the couch before he grabs the extra blankets from the cabinet and wraps them around Tim. 

Once the soft fabric touches his skin he immediately gets away from, flinging himself from the couch, cornering himself in between his entertainment center and his bookshelf. Tim’s eyes a blood shot, pupils dilated, nothing but green fills his vision. 

Wrong…wrong…wrong.

His body continued to shake as silent sobs filtered through him. He learned very quickly that he wasn’t supposed to cry outside of love making. So crying became a silent affair for when he was alone. 

He felt sick and hungry and fear all at the same time it made his head spin.

“Tim…breathe…you got breathe, I don’t need you passing out on me.” Jason’s voice was firm and grounding. 

It pulled him out of his panic, “In. Out.”

Tim mimicked him. In. Out.

Hold.

“That’s it. Baby bird.” Jason voiced, a hint of praise lingering in his tone, “In. Out.”

In. Out.

Hold

In. Out.

Hold.

Tim started to feel calmer, more in control of himself even though everything was screaming at him, telling him that what he was doing was wrong. That he needed to submit.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Tim too scared to speak out of turn and Jason worried he may say the wrong thing. “Tim what happened?”

Tim didn’t exactly know how to answer it. He didn’t know where to start. It was all so messed up.

God he wanted a drink. 

He’d even take a cigarette. 

Getting up from the floor he completely ignores Jason and starts to stalk back his room, a hand stops him.  He quickly pulls his hand away, “Don’t touch me.”

Knowing this was the wrong move from the start, the glint of green in Tim's eyes definitely wasn't helping the situation but he knew he needed a fight. “Or what, baby bird? What are you-.”

Before Jason could even finish the sentence Tim clocks him straight in the face, his hand connecting with Jason’s nose. Blood instantly starts to flow, a sickening crunch fills the air. While he’s stunned, reeling from the fact Tim broke his nose, Tim uses this to his advantage and kicks his feet out from under him before landing a punch to his face. Straddling him with ease, his hands find their way to Jason’s throat, fingertips constricting around flesh too easily.

The green haze grew, a soft whisper found its way to the front of his mind, “That’s it beloved. Let loose, forget what that fool taught you. Doesn’t it feel good, squeezing the life out of someone.”

He quickly pulls his hands away from Jason’s throat, allowing the man under him some air, coughing and sputtering as he tries to suck in as much as he could before Tim decides to take it away. Tim gets off him completely and starts to throw anything breakable he could get his hands on, screaming every curse word he could, switching back and forth from English to Arabic.

All Jason could do was lay on the floor in a small pool of his own blood, fighting the darkness that creeped from his own vision; listening to his baby bird have yet another breakdown.

“Nest: Unlock Protocol 2309.” Jason tried to get up as the metal sheets in front of the doors and windows were removed, allowing the morning sun to shine through them.

Tim pushes Jason back down, his head hitting the floor, “Don’t bother coming after me, it’s not going to end well.”

Jason lets out a groan as he gives into the darkness. Tim reaches into Jason’s pants pocket and pulls out his cell phone, hitting the distress beacon on it before he slips out the door, vanishing into the wind.

Chapter Text

Any trace of Tim vanished from Gotham 

The article mentioning his return, scrubbed from every website, every newspaper burned, even his nest mysteriously caught fire.

Everything was gone. Even Barbara had trouble finding anything. 

Then bread crumbs started.

He’d leave little traces here and there in different states tracing a clear pattern out of Gotham as well as a slew of credit card purchases that showed he was there in those places. Doctoring the camera footage took more time and effort but once that was completed and the sightings of the league slowed he felt like he could finally breathe. 

It only took two and half weeks of diligent planning and using the underground tunnels to get around, but now he could finally get out of his apartment and breathe fresh air. The safe house he moved to was near the docks, the smell of Gotham Harbor clung to his skin no matter how many scented candles he lit. 

He found himself munching a few crackers near the landing of the safe house, the crisp air felt nice on his flushed face. This kid really hated everything he tried to eat except the bland foods. So crackers for breakfast it was.

He tried to eat a few Carmel rice cakes but as soon as the second one went down the first was greeting it on the way up. The list of foods he couldn’t eat was slowly growing and he hated it. 

Throwing the last of his saltine for the birds, he heads back inside and pulls a kitchen chair so it’s facing the door. He sits down and reaches underneath the seat of the chair and grabs the gun he’s hidden there and proceeds to let it rest against his leg, finger hovering over the safety switch. He takes a sip of water from the cup sitting on the side table before he brings his knees to his chest again. 

He sits facing the door counting down the minutes before the door to this safe house slowly opens, a mixture of blue and red fill his vision, the lights flicker to life illuminating the threat that’s sitting a few feet away. The two boys freeze when Tim comes into view, gun trained on both of them. They put their hands up, Dick leans over and says, “You weren’t kidding about the guns, are you sure it’s not for-.”

Before Dick could finish his sentence Tim lifts the gun up a little higher and pulls the trigger, the bullet lodges in the wall behind him. If it was a hair to the left Dick would’ve lost an ear. “Noted.”

Tim’s glare spoke volumes. In the span of the two and half weeks his face had gotten paler, he looked exhausted and run down, his hair had grown a bit, he still looked small. “Get out.”

“Tim we just want-.”

Tim venomously states, cutting Dick off, “I don’t care what you want. Frankly I don’t care what anyone wants. No one seems to care about what I want.”

He stands up from the chair, “Get. Out.”

“Baby bird please just let us help you.” Dick ventures inside the safe house and tries to get closer to him but he backs away, leaving at least a few feet between.

“Just stop.” Tim’s voice cracks, “Stop.”

Tears well in his eyes and he’s so upset at the fact he’s pissed off and is crying sets everything in a snowball of emotions, “Last time you tried to “help” you threatened to send me to Arkham.”

“You did what…” Jason's voice faltered a little as he moved closer to Dick.

Dick puts his hands up in defense, “I was wrong I never should’ve said anything about Arkham. You were right about Bruce and I should’ve believed you.”

“Doesn’t matter anyways.” Tim states looking down at the gun in his hand, switching the safety back on, “I traded Arkham for another prison.”

Tim’s eyes flicker a Lazarus green for a moment before he drops the gun on the floor, kicking it to the side, letting it slide under the couch. He grabs a cracker from the stack on the counter and leaves the two in the living room before he goes to the back room to grab his already packed bag. He keeps it at his side, leaving the back open for a means of escape. 

“Tim, please we just wanna help. Just come to the manor, we can sit and talk, no one is going to do anything.” Dick still has his hands up in defense but Jason could tell Tim was two steps ahead. 

He takes his helmet off and throws in Tim’s direction confusing both Tim and Dick before he runs at Tim. Roughly tackling the young to the ground, the cracker goes flying, it sends Tim spiraling further into turmoil, “This isn’t up for debate, Timbit. You don’t have to go to the manor but you're coming with us.”

“Hey, Jay, how's your nose?” Tim asks before he lands a blow to the man’s face, the same sickening crunch sounds and he couldn’t help but smile in response as blood trickled from both sides. Jason lets out a cry of pain as Tim throws him off.

You never mess with someone’s food. Especially someone who can’t eat much without throwing up.

The jarring movement has bile creeping up his throat. He rushes for the trash can and immediately starts throwing up the small amount of crackers he managed to eat this morning. Tears finally falling as he vomits, he was so tired of all the vomiting. He was tired of everything, he wanted all of it to stop.

Dick tries to comfort Tim but his hand gets pushed away, a sad look covers his face as he turns his attention to Jason who’s already pinching his broken nose to get it to stop bleeding. 

Once he’s done throwing up he just numbly picks himself up off the floor, ignoring Jason and Dick as he moves his bedroom; cocooning himself in scratchy blankets. His mind reverted back to basics, back to when if he was in bed he was fine. 

After Jason patches up his nose the two cautiously enter the bedroom, eyes fixed on the tiny eighteen years in a giant ball of blankets. Blankets that looked too worn to be comfortable.

“Have you ever seen him do this before?”

Dick nods before he answers, “I’ve seen it a few times. When he’s so overwhelmed mentally and physically he just shuts down. He did it after his mom died. Dinah says it’s a sort of defense mechanism.”

The two watch as his eyes slowly close, his subconscious letting him rest knowing deep down they wouldn’t hurt him and they’d keep him safe.

They move to the living room, Dick picks the chair up and Jason shuts the door before taking a seat across from Dick, “What the fuck happened to him over the year and half he was missing?”

“I don’t know,” Jason states as he takes the domino mask and dabs at the dry blood, “He wouldn’t talk to me but I have a feeling Ra’s is somehow behind it. You saw his eyes.”

“I think it’s time someone pays him a visit.” A grin covers his Dicks face.

Jason set the bloodied rag down and glanced at the room Tim’s sleeping in before they return to Dick’s still grinning face, “I’ll stay here, Tim still needs someone whether he likes it or not. Plus I think if I see Ra’s I might just fill him with led.”

“He’s acting like some of the girls do in the alley.” Jason states, “After what I saw a few weeks ago it doesn’t surprise me that Ra’s experimented on him and..”

Jason’s mouth shut with a harsh click, anger was pumping in his veins at the thought of someone taking advantage of Tim. He remembers the bite marks and scratches, the dead look in his eyes, the way he rubbed his skin raw. “All I have to say is when you find the bastard, make him beg.”

Dick nods, “I’ll tell B this was a dead end. I'd still move him to your safe house before he wakes up, I have a feeling Bruce is still going to come poking around no matter what we tell him.”

“Are you going to be okay here with him?” Dick stands, pushing his chair in, “He broke your nose twice and almost killed you.”

Jason shrugs it off, “That was on me, I egged him on. I pushed and he pushed right back. I’ll let him break my nose as many times as it takes before he realizes I’m staying.”

“God Jay, you must really have it down bad.” Dick chuckles as he walks toward the door. 

“Shove off Dickwad.” 

Dick just chuckles as he shuts the door behind him, “Goodluck.”

Jason sighs before he gets up from the small table and moves to put the bloody rag in the sink. He heads to the car parked outside and grabs a bag from the trunk of the car before putting his helmet in and slamming it shut. He changes quickly and shoves the bag onto the couch. 

Settling down on the floor next to the bed he pulls out his phone and starts to read a book. Patiently waiting for the moment Tim woke up, he just hoped it didn’t end in another broken bone. 

Chapter Text

Tim finally mustered up the spoons to get out of bed when Jason decided to make his presence known, he let out a groan when Jason sat on the bed. He rolls so his back is facing him and listens as Jason attempts to get in Tim’s good graces, “You don’t have to get out of bed if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna make you talk but you are stuck with me. You rest up, I'm going to make dinner.”

Tim slightly turns in his direction at the thought of Jason making him food, “What are you making?”

“Chinese,” Jason chuckles, “that’s about all you’ve got in your fridge.”

He nods before getting out of bed and heads to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. Jason heads to the kitchen and starts to get things out of the fridge and cabinet. When Tim exits the bathroom he sits at the island, a guilty expression covers his face, “I’m sorry I broke your nose.”

Jason leans over and ruffles his hair, “I deserved it, we’re even now I guess.”

Tim lets out a dry chuckle before stating, “It’s a start.”

Jason pauses a moment before returning to the food prep, Tim nonchalantly goes to his phone. Jason grabs something from the fridge and the second the smell hits his nose he’s grabbing the container and throwing it out the balcony doors.

Jason looks at Tim’s reaction and he asks, “Tim what the hell?”

“It was gonna make me sick.” Tim says nonchalantly like it’s common knowledge.

“Okay,” Jason starts, “what isn't going to make you sick?”

Tim goes quiet for a few moments and then answers, “A deluxe bacon bat burger with fries and a Diet Coke.”

“If I get that for you will you stay at my apartment until whatever this shit is dies down?” Jason asks, “It’s the last place the league is gonna look. Ra’s thinks I hate you.”

Tim flinches at the mention of his name, going quiet as he shrinks back into his skin. “Yes.”

“Go grab your bag and we can leave.” Tim doesn’t look up, he just walks back to the bedroom, grabs the bag and proceeds to wait by the door. He knew Jason wasn’t Ra’s but he wanted a bat burger. He craved Diet Coke and fries, complying meant he got what he wanted.

Compliance always got him some type of reward. That was engrained into his being.

After getting Tim’s bat burger meal, the two head to Jason’s safe house (apartment) and he nestled himself down on the couch and proceeded to eat his fries, mindlessly flicking through the tv channels.

Tim had his side of the couch and Jason had the other, they sat in silence silently watching a telenovela play out dramatically chasing away their problems. It wasn’t until the door to his safe house opened and in came Damian full rant, “Just because grandfather is having a spat with his new wife doesn’t mean he needs to stay at the manor and make it everyone else’s problem! Who cares if she destroyed three quarters of the league.”

Tim froze.

His blood running cold at the thought of Ra’s at the manor.

Before Jason could say anything Tim was off the couch and Jason’s room, the door slamming shut, the force of impact causing the wood to splinter around the handle.

“Was that Drake?” Damian asks with a look of confusion written all over his face, “When did he return?”

“Well demon spawn, that was Tim.” Jason states pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s going through some stuff so he’s been in hiding.”

Damian inches closer to the couch, a look of concern still written on his face, “Why would he not want to see me? I know we didn’t part on the best of terms but I harbor no ill will towards him.”

Jason places a hand on Damian’s shoulder and says, “What happened to him messed him up really bad and he’s struggling. Don’t mention Ra’s either.”

“Did he do something, Drake?” Damian sits where Tim was sitting a few moments ago, his eyes locked on Jason’s.

“I think so, he hasn’t spoken much about what happened.” Before Jason could even say anything else they heard crashing noises coming from the bathroom. “Shit!”

Quickly getting to the bathroom, the two find Tim holding a bloody piece of glass to arm, teary eyes looking at Jason and Damian, “He can’t have it, he can’t..I can’t…I can’t….”

“Tim, put the glass down. It’s gonna be okay.” Jason says as he slowly reaches a hand out towards the shard.

More tears stream down his face, “It’s not, it’s never going to be okay. Not until either one of us is dead!”

He brings the shard to his skin and starts to press down, causing a small amount of blood to pool from the newly made wound. He goes to move away from Jason but slips on the blood that’s pooled on the floor which gives Jason the opening he needs to take the shard from him, throwing it into the bathtub before snaking himself around Tim who’s scrambling to get another shard.

Tim screams out in frustration and in pain as Jason grabs the towel hanging up and applies pressure. Jason looks to Damian who is shocked, confused and worried all at once, “How can I be of assistance?”

Tim continues to thrash around in Jason’s hold, tears and screams of “I can’t…please…and I don’t’” escape his lips.

“Call Dick and get him here.” Jason states as he gets a tighter grip on Tim who is desperately trying to get him off. “Now.”

Damian leaves and Tim’s cries get more desperate, “Please don't make me go back to him! He can’t have it! He can’t!”

“Tim it’s okay, it’s okay, what can’t he have?!” Jason exclaims trying to get Tim’s attention to get him to calm down.

Tim struggles harder, “Please, Jay I have to do this!! He can’t have it! He can’t!”

Leaning down closer to his ear, “Tim calm down…it’s okay. It’s okay, calm down. What can’t he have? Tell me and I can help you. Tell me and I can help you protect it.”

Tim’s struggling dies down a little as his vision swims, “…my baby…”

Chapter Text

By the time Dick got to Jason’s apartment his blood ran cold. His eyes scanned the apartment cautiously as he ventured inside, the fact there was blood smeared everywhere didn’t help the eerie feeling in his gut that was screaming that something was wrong. “Jay? Dami?”

”In here Grayson.” Damian states tiredly from Jason’s room. 

He shuts the door behind him and proceeds to slowly enter his brother’s bedroom to find Damian leaning up against the wall near the entryway to the bathroom. He turns the corner and finds Jason covered in blood holding a slightly unconscious Tim in his arms, a pile of bloody towels sat behind them. 

He watches as Tim’s eyes lid open a green hue enveloping the blue and he cries as he struggles against Jason’s hold. His voice barely came out in a whisper, it was raw from the screaming and the yelling. He struggles roughly against Jason’s grip and manages to slam his head back, breaking free long enough to grab a shard and rake it across his skin, blood pooling from the newly formed wound. Jason grabs the shard and throws it away before he pulls Tim to his chest, placing a new towel over it, soaking up the blood before he removes it, the wound already stitching itself back together, an ugly red jagged scar taking its place.

“Jay what the hell?” Dick asks, minding the different little pieces of glass on the floor. 

Jason sighs as Tim goes limp in his arms again. Damian was the one to answer, “Grandfather calls it a Lazarus Echo.”

”My guess is Timmers here was driven to suicide and was thrown into the pits to get fixed and extreme stress brought this on. So he’s stuck repeating this until he finally gets it out of his system.” Jason shifts Tim in his arms and says, “I wonder if maybe we move him out of the bathroom. I wonder if that might help snap him out of it.”

Dick nods and proceeds to grab his feet while Jason lifts Tim up and out of the bathroom, “What even brought this on?”

Damian shuffles nervously, piping up, “I came into the safe house on a tangent about grandfather staying at the manor.”

Upon hearing that bombshell he drops Tim’s feet in shock, Dick quickly picks them up again, “He’s what!? Why?”

“Grandfather said that he and his wife were going through a lovers spat and she destroyed three quarters of the league and he wished to stay with father until she calmed down.” Damian answers his eyes never meeting either of the older boys, Ra’s was a sensitive topic for all of them, “Father said something about keeping your enemies close.”

Tim's eyes flash before he gets out of their grasp, backing himself into a corner, curling his knees to his chest. “Timmy…Timmy….baby bird we just wanna help you.”

His eyes stayed glued to the blood on the carpet before they flicker to his arms, red jagged scars littered his skin. His body relaxes a little once he realizes it's from his arms and not…he looks up and sees three pairs of eyes on him. Too many eyes…Too many…

“Timmy, at least let us help clean you up, you’re covered in blood.” As soon as the last word leaves Dicks mouth he’s shaking his head no.

The three move closer to him sitting on the floor, “Why?”

“You’ll hate me..” Tim whispers as he hugs his knees and to his chest harder.

Dick shakes his head, “We could never hate you.”

Tim’s eyes meet Damian’s, “Drake, I will not hate you or harm you.”

His body shakes as more tears slide down his face, he turns so his back is slightly facing the others, his hands find their way to the bottom of his blood soaked shirt and pulls it over his head. Revealing way more than he wanted to. All the stabs, bite marks, and scratches but more importantly the black tattoo that covers his entire back. A gasp escapes Dicks mouth as a range of emotions flash across Damian’s face, 

Tim couldn’t bring himself to look at Damian. He couldn’t see the looks he was giving him. 

Arms wrap around Tim’s shoulders and he can’t help but freeze at the contact. He reciprocates the hug and holds Damian as tightly as he can without hurting the younger boy, afraid that if he lets go this will all just vanish and he’ll be right back there. “It’s okay.” 

Tim sinks into the comfort and loses it, allowing the other two to join in on the group hug. He sobs loudly, “We got you Tim…we got you.”

“I didn’t want any of it…” Tim sobs out, “I said no…I fought…but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter…”

They held Tim as he cried his eyes out, until he finally passed out  in their arms. They get him in clean clothes and get him nestled on the couch, “Soft bedding is a no no. Learned that one the hard way.”

”Grandfather was always cruel when he’d bed a partner, their screams were stuck in my head for weeks.” Damian shivers, “Drake has been through hell and I would like to go back to the manor and end grandfather.”

”I know Dames but we can’t do that.” Dick states as he tucked the worn out blanket into Tim’s side, “We have to be careful with our next moves. We don't know exactly what was done to him.”

Jason clears his throat as he sits next to Tim who’s peacefully sleeping and says, “I think he messed with Tim’s anatomy.” 

“What?” Dick asks, glancing at Tim, “What do you mean?”

“Before when the attack happened and he was taken to the Gotham PD he had Gordon call me. He was covered in blood and I helped him, he was completely out of it. I could tell he was coming down from a pit episode.” Jason explains, “He looks more female than male down there and I know for a fact it wasn’t like that before.”

Dick being Dick states, “Oh pray tell how you know, Jay?”

”Oh knock it off Dick, you and I both have taken enough communal after patrol showers with someone and you start to know who has a dick and who doesn’t.” Jason shoves Dick’s shoulder as he continues, “When I told Damian to call you Tim said something about a baby before he finally passed out.”

The three of them exchange looks before Dick pulls out his phone and makes a call to their resident doctor on call, Leslie. 

It doesn’t take long for Leslie to come knocking at the door, portable ultra sound machine in hand. Dick takes it from her so she doesn’t have to carry it the rest of the way in and sets it down next to Tim who’s still completely passed out. She gently rolls back Tim’s clean shirt exposing the slight bloat to his lower abdomen, “Well we’ve got something peculiar here.”

She puts the warm gel on his stomach after turning on the machine, she puts the wand on his stomach and presses down gently, a twelve week old fetus appears on the screen, wiggling around on the screen. “I don’t practice in obstetrics but I know a little. It looks like this little guy is twelve weeks old.”

“That explains the amount he’s been throwing up and why he threw out certain foods.” Jason announces. 

She moves it around and then points to the screen, “Jason it looks like your guess was correct. Tim has working ovaries and obviously a uterus and I’m seeing some scar tissue that you’d see on someone that has had multiple abortions or miscarriages in a short period of time.”

”I’m going to take some samples and run some tests just to make sure his body is handling the changes okay.” She states as she moves the wand around some more, “He’s also missing a good portion of his spleen, does anyone know what’s going on there?”

The three shake their heads and she removes the wand from Tim’s stomach and says as she turns her attention to the boys, “From what you’ve explained he’s skittish and you guys have gotten him to trust you a little bit. He’s gonna need you guys, make sure he’s taking care of himself and taking his vitamins.”

”If you need anything just holler at me.” As quick as she came she left just as quick leaving and Jason is half tempted to drive to the manor and murder Ra’s where he lay. It was taking everything in him to stay put. 

Damian glances to his brothers before states, wiggling under Tim's arm so he’s nestled in front of him in what Grayson always called the little spoon, “We shall table this for in the morning.”

Jason looks to Dick who just shrugs and motions for Jason to join him in the spooning pile. Jason seats himself between Tim and Dick and gently pulls the younger ones closer and snuggles into Tim’s back, holding him close, afraid that if he were to let go Tim would up and disappear.

Chapter Text

Tim woke up in a comfortable warmth feeling somewhat better than he had in months. The nightmares that usually plagued him were nonexistent throughout the night. He pulls himself out of the batboy pile and immediately goes to grab a bottle of water from the fridge but stops when he spots the Sunny D bottle. That sounded good. 

He just hoped the little parasite agreed. 

Bringing the bottle up to his lips he starts to chug the contents quickly, setting it gently on the counter screwing the lid on tightly. His stomach flips and he immediately hates himself for even thinking Sunny D was a good idea. His mouth immediately starts to water and he’s convinced this kid hates him. 

Stepping over Dicks’ sprawled out limbs he quickly heads for the bathroom, the smell of bleach making the nausea ten times worse. He throws himself at the toilet, Sunny D burning his throat on the way up. A few more heaves and it’s finally out of his system and he can work on breathing normally again. 

He reaches a hand up and pulls the lever, banishing the Sunny D- French fry concoction his stomach made up. Leaning up against the wall, he focuses on his breathing, eyes closed as he listens to the shuffling in the living room. He wonders how long it will take them to realize he’s just in the bathroom.

His stomach shifts again as the thought of actual orange juice pops into his head. Quickly moving to the toilet, he heaves nothing but stomach acid and foam into the bowl, the taste makes him gag. 

He hears small footsteps getting closer as more stomach acid finds its way upwards. His coughs and gags alert the other two to his location, his grip on the toilet tightens as the last of it finds its way out. His body drops against the toilet and he rests his head on the seat, no longer caring about the cleanliness of his actions. 

A water bottle gently gets placed in his hand and he makes a small noise of appreciation in Damian’s direction and lifts his head enough to take a few sips before he sets the bottle down on the floor, a groan playing on his lips. 

Once he has enough of his bearings he allows Dick and Jason to help him to his feet as they steer him to the living room. Damian and Dick get him all settled in on the couch why Jason wanders into the kitchen to put the Sunny D away and put on a kettle. He hoped maybe some calming ginger tea would help settle Tim’s stomach.

The warm mug that gets placed in his hands helps ground him, “I know you all have questions. So spit them out.”

“How are you feeling?”

Tim blinks.

He takes a sip from the mug, swallowing thickly before answering, "That's not the question you really want to ask.”

Tim's statement was met with silence, “I’ll start from the beginning."

He clears his throat and starts, “I got desperate. I was running out of leads, resources and patients. Ra’s made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. It was my life for Bruces’ and I’d make that trade a million times over.”

“He gave me everything I needed and wanted. He made me feel appreciated, needed, wanted, and he believed my crazy idea.” Tim pauses for a brief moment, swallowing the lump that was starting to form in his throat, “It wasn’t until after Bruce was found and my ties were cut that everything went to hell.” 

“I was forced into different trials of strength, wit, endurance; anything Ra’s could think of to test me. See how far he could push me until broke. I lasted a while, even when he went through with the different experiments with the lazarus pit I didn’t break. I held out, I pushed through because I had to. I didn’t want him to see me break.” Bringing the cup to his lips he takes a few sips before he continues, “The only thing that kept me sane was the thought that what I was doing was keeping everyone else safe.”

The three boys on the floor stayed quiet, their faces a mix of different emotions. Some of anger, some of sadness, while Damian had a bit of both. Damian wasn’t one for emotions so seeing this on his face with the paired hug from the night before, Tim clearly thought he had actually died and went to heaven. No, nothing in this life was ever that easy. 

It was definitely a parallel reality.

That was the only logical explanation.

Damian’s head tilts up, green eyes finding blue and hesitantly asks, “Mother?”

Tim sets the mug down on the side table and joins the others on the floor. His hand finds Damian’s shoulder, “She helped me in whatever way she could. Last I heard she went into hiding and that she’s safe.”

Damian’s tense posture relaxed as a small sigh escaped his lips. His relationship with his mother hadn’t always been the best but Tim understood that she was still his mother at the end of the day. 

Now it was Tim’s turn to ask questions, “How long has he been at the manor?”

“He got in the night before last.” Damian answers, a hint of disgust in his tone.

“He must’ve figured out my decoy sightings were just that and cut out the middle man entirely.” Tim theorizes, “Going to the manor was something I didn’t expect he’d do. I bet he was pissed when he realized I wasn’t there.”

Jason gets up from the floor and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a thing of crackers before returning to his spot on the floor. The crackers get thrusted into Tim’s hands as Jason asks, “So what’s the plan, baby bird?”

“Dames, did he have anyone with him when he showed up?”

He shakes his head, “No, I thought it was unusual, grandfather always has someone with him whether it’s mother or a team of assassins.”

“That makes this easier.” Tim says as he gets up from the floor, cracker in mouth as he moves to Jason’s bedroom. 

He finishes the cracker he was eating and then proceeds to plop another into his mouth. He grabs his duffle bag and proceeds to try and put on a pair of his sweatpants but stops when he can’t get them past his mid thigh. He groans in frustration before he goes through the bottom drawer of Jason’s dresser, rummaging through it for something he could wear.

He settles on Wally’s old Batman sweatpants and throws on a plain black shirt he nabs from the collection of accumulated clothes that were left at Jason’s apartment at one point or another. He swallows the cracker and replaces it with a new one before he exits Jason’s bedroom with mixed emotions on his face. “Huh I wondered where those went.”

“Drake, what are you doing?” Their eyebrows raise as they watch Tim work on getting his shoes on, a cracker loosely hanging from his lips. 

Tim stops for a moment, taking a bite from said cracker before he answers, shoving his foot further into his converse, “Getting my shoes on.”

“Why?”

“So we can all go and get batburger on this fine morning?” Tim states nonchalantly, clearly a joke leaving Dick to let a “really?” which earns him a good slap to his shoulder from the other two sitting next to him, “No. I’m going to the manor to confront him and get him to leave or straight up murder him.”

He stands up after tying his shoes, “Figured I could decide which one on the drive over.”

Damian happily gets up from his spot on the floor and gets his shoes on before immediately going for his coat, “This is an acceptable plan.”

Tim turns to Damian stating, “Though batburger does sound pretty good.”

Dick let’s a sigh of defeat before he gets to his feet, "You guys are gonna go either way so might as well come with. Yes, we can stop at batburger.”

The four of them pile into the Toyota and make a pit stop at the closest batburger and eat on the way to the manor, the silence as they ate was deafening. 

Upon pulling up to the manor, Tim couldn’t help but regret his choice in coming here; he exits the car anyway. He walks ahead of his brothers and climbs the stairs with ease, pushing the door open and walking to the parlor room. He was facing his fears whether he was ready or not. 

The first thing out of Ra’s mouth made him want to throw up, “Ahh beloved, have you finally come to your senses?”

Bruce’s mouth falls open at Ra’s statement, cup falling from his hand, tea goes spilling across the carpet, porcelain shattering. “I’m not going with you.”

Ra’s sets the teacup down and states as he stands, straightening his outfit, “You know that doesn’t really work in your favor, I wouldn’t want to have to restart, especially since you’ve made it farther than all the other times.”

Anger flashes across Tim’s face, green overcoming the blue, Ra’s starts to move closer to Tim. Before any of the boys could pull him back, Tim was launching himself forward in an attempt to land a hit. Ra’s dodging it with ease like he’s done this a million times over, their movements flowed together like this was some sort of mating dance. 

Tim’s vision blurred a little causing his movements to fizzle to a stop, a shaky hand finding its way to the wall he was closest to in an attempt to steady himself. His other hand goes to his head as a groan escapes his lips. “Stop this feeble attempt at a temper tantrum,” a forceful hand pins him against the wall, “I have given you more than enough time, beloved. You will be coming with me.”

Ra’s hand moves away from his shoulder and tightly grips the boy's throat, the four of the Bats in the room move to strike but stop when Tim starts to struggle in his grip, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, this is between me and my beloved.”

His grip loosens slightly allowing a little bit of hair to get to the boy's lungs after he coughs and gags a little. “Ra’s…stop.”

Taking in Tim’s features the boy looked paler, lower abdomen slightly wider than it used to be, despite everything he still looked beautiful to him. He removes his hand from Tim’s throat, resting it gently over the small bump. The act made all the batboys shudder in disgust. Thinking quickly he grabs Ra’s hand off him before a sickening crunch fills the air, his knee lands hard against the ancient man’s family jewels sending him to his knees. Once Ra’s is on the floor, Tim is on him in seconds, hit after hit, punch after punch. The green returned in full force. 

“You’re so beautiful, beloved.” A well placed punch to the man’s throat shuts him up as Jason is pulling Tim off the bloodied man. 

Tim yells out in protest. The green egging him on, “He doesn’t get to say that to me!”

“Get him out of here,” Jason tells the others as his grip on Tim tightens enough so he can’t escape, “I’ve got him.”

Bruce and Dick pick up the dazed head of the demon and carry him out of the room, Alfred follows, shot gun in hand as they get him out of the house. Damian moves closer to Jason and Tim in an attempt to help get Tim to calm down. 

Tim struggles against his grip until the familiar wave of nausea hits him, the green faded to nothingness as he leans his back fully against Jason’s chest in an attempt to get his breathing under control. Damian notices what Tim is trying to do and gets up from the floor, quickly grabbing the trash can. “Drake, give me your hand.”

Without even thinking, Tim gives it to him, his other hand is glued to his mouth. Too afraid to move it. Damian places three fingers on Tim’s wrist before finding the correct tendon, pressing down with his thumb he starts to move in a small circular motion. As soon as he started, Tim’s body relaxed against Jason’s, his breathing started to slowly even out as the minutes passed. 

“Timmers, you good?” 

He mumbles out a reply and proceeds to turn more into Jason, a yawn escaping his lips. A sigh escapes Jason’s lips as he scoops Tim into his arms and moves out of the parlor room and into the den, getting Tim settled on the couch before he asks Damian, “Can you go see where they are on the Ra’s front?”

A gun shot sounds and Tim is instantly scrambling out of Jason’s arms, a look of confusion and fear on his face. Damian grabs his hands and leads him back to Jason who says, “It was just Alfred’s shotgun, come here.”

Tim curls up on Jason, his head resting against his chest, “Baby bird, just sleep. I got you.”

Damian grabs the blanket on the back of the couch and hands it to Jason who then covers Tim up before heading out to see if Alfred shot his grandfather. Damian heads for the front door and find a very pissed off and distraught Alfred who is barely being held back by Dick. Bruce was outside in Ra’s face, a very angry expression on his face, “Get the hell off my property and don’t even think of coming back here unless you want to get shot!”

Ra’s nods and Damian watches his father release his grandfather’s crotch and his grandfather crumbles to the ground, a pained expression on his face. When Bruce reenters the manor Damian announces, “Drake is sleeping in the den with Jason. I feel that we should allow him to rest.”

Alfred pushes himself away from Dick, straightening his jacket before abruptly stating, “If anyone needs me, I will be in the kitchen. Please let me know when I can be of use.”

He stalks off towards the kitchen leaving Bruce, Dick, and Damian standing in the foyer, a range of emotions filtering through their eyes. The rest of them file into the den picking different places on the couch. They didn’t know what to do with the information that was given, so they handled it in their own way. Alfred cooked and backed anything and everything he could think of, Dick and Damain stayed close in case Tim woke and needed something, and Bruce kept a watchful eye on his children, all cuddled up on the couch as a disney movie played in the background.