Chapter Text
Tim stares at himself in the mirror; his face is splattered with blood and his hands are raw. The material of his gloves was worn away, so his knuckles are split, stinging under the spray of the tap. He moves on autopilot around his bathroom, cleaning the cuts and stains on his skin. There's only one thought repeatedly passing through his mind: why didn’t he hear him? He had put himself in harm's way, so why didn’t Kon warn him or tell him to leave? His grip tightens on the countertop and he takes a sharp breath inward to stop the sob from escaping his body. Kon’s voice is the only the he has left. The only thing. All his shirts have lost their smell; there were no little notes left on his desk; there was no evidence of Conner Kent left other than pictures he couldn’t bring himself to look at. He had really thought moving out would help; there were no memories of Kon wandering around this apartment; he had never slept in this bed, never left crumbs on this couch. That was the problem, because all he could see every time he came home was where Kon should be. The thought fills him with so much anger, there’s no sadness left in him, no pity, just pure unbridled rage.
Tim doesn’t really know how much sleep he’s gotten this week; the days have blurred together. What day even is it? Thursday, Friday? It doesn’t matter; he’s been very busy with decreasing the crime rate in Gotham. Some would call his new methods extreme; he’d like to say effective. Honestly, think about it, how can someone be a repeat offender if they can’t use their legs? It might be unethical, but so is crime; you get what you give and all that.
Now, Tim might have crossed a line because he currently has a drug runner tied up in some abandoned warehouse and is, for lack of a better description, beating the shit out of him. It’s not like Batman doesn’t interrogate people, but Tim can’t recall him ever going to this extreme. To give the poor guy some credit, he has gone 2 hours without giving up very much. Penguin is clearly giving a good salary these days.
“The faster you tell me what I need to know, the faster you get to go home.” He’s crouched in front of the guy, Frank or something like that, he’s not really focusing on the guy’s name at the moment. ‘Frank’ spits at him,
“No point in going home if I tell you anything.”
“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna tell on you, just answer my question”
He shakes his head and Tim sends another blow to his head. Then another.
“You’re just making it harder”, he hisses. Frank stares at the floor. There's blood dripping from the side of his face and his right eye is beginning to swell and bruise. He really needs to know where the main base of operation is. Tim knows who’s involved; it’s not like the guy can get done for telling him names he already knows. All he needs is the base, he needs to get another sample because the ones he has are in the cave and he really does not want to see Bruce right now and then he can destroy the rest and put Penguin and Scarecrow in Arkham. He grabs the man’s face to make eye contact with him.
“Work with me here, Frank”
“My name’s not Frank, asshole.” he sneers. Tim huffs and throws a final punch that knocks the guy out. He rises and doesn’t untie him, he’s someone else’s problem now. He can’t help but be annoyed at what a waste of time that was; he could have just gone looking for the base himself and gotten more information. He makes it back to his apartment and checks the time, 1 AM nice and early for him. He has some spare time to go through the case file. He showers and throws on whatever clothes were on his floor and sits at his desk.
────────────────────────────────────────
RED ROBIN
CASE FILE: #202
STATUS: ACTIVE
────────────────────────────────────────
“CLARITY”
CLASSIFICATION: HIGH-RISK
SUMMARY:
“Clarity” a drug being distributed by the Penguin. Described as a stimulant, “party drug”.
Linked to Scarecrow’s fear toxin, strain unknown.
EFFECTS: Unknown
CHEMICAL MAKE-UP: Unknown
Last updated: 01:41 |
────────────────────────────────────────
The file is disheartening; it proves how much Tim doesn’t know, even after obsessing and slaving over this case for weeks. It’s his first case alone in a long time; he cannot fail. Maybe he can sneak into the cave to grab the sample without being noticed, though that’s unlikely. He could buy it, but if Timothy Drake-Wayne was caught buying a party drug, he would lose his spot on the board at WE. Plus, how would he know what he was buying was the real thing? He needs to get it from the source. His train of thought is interrupted by the click of his window. He rises slowly and creeps to get a better view without being seen. Dick slips into the room and closes the window behind him, then turns towards the dark corner where Tim is lurking.
“Hey Timbers, whatcha working on?” he’s in his suit, the sharp blue symbol stands against the dark brick of the wall he's leaning on.
“Aren’t you meant to be in Bludhaven?” He rolls his eyes and turns back to sit down at his desk.
“Thought I’d come and see my little brother”
“I know Bruce sent you. What does he want?”
“You wound me!” he clutches his chest dramatically and walks up behind Tim’s chair to read his computer screen. He skims the file and hums. “Speaking of the old man, he’s worried about you, bud”
“He has nothing to be worried about.” His voice is blunt; he really doesn’t need this right now. He needs to focus on this case, put a stop to the distribution; people’s lives are at stake.
“The case is coming along really well, then” The other quips and pokes his side.
“Dick, I’m really busy, okay. Tell Bruce I’m fine, I can handle this by myself and he can stop stalking me.”
Dick frowns; he’s lost his smooth expression and his brows crease. “I’m worried about you, too, Tim. If you need help, you can ask for it; you don’t need to do this by yourself.”
Tim clenches his jaw. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m fine.” The older boy put a hand on his shoulder, only for it to be swatted off.
“God, not you to Dick.” He drags his hands over his face.
“I don’t doubt you, I’m just concerned, y’know, after Kon-”
“Stop.” he groans “You sound exactly like him. I’m fine, end of story.” His brother’s face hardens.
“Well, you’re not acting like it, going around beating people to a pulp and leaving them in an abandoned warehouse doesn’t really come off as the behaviour of a ‘perfectly fine’ person.” his voice is sharp, not yet yelling but reaching that point. Tim stands up and walks to the other side of the room.
“I did what needed to be done to get the information I needed. Frank or whatever his name was will be fine.”
“Frank?” Dick raises an eyebrow “You nearly killed two guys, seriously?”
“What Penguin? Don’t you think he deserves it anyway? Plus, I checked he was still alive, his goons sorted him out, I’m sure.”
“That’s not the point, Tim. You used unnecessary force, you’re using unnecessary force, I mean, you don’t need to break both of a purse snatcher's legs!”
“Oh my God, are you watching everything I do! You’re unbelievable, you’re just like him.”
Dick takes a few steps towards him, “It’s a dangerous path you’re going down, I think you need-”
“I know what I need, Richard. I think you should leave.”
“Tim” he takes another few steps forward.
“Leave!” He shouts, pointing at the window he climbed in through.
Dick clenches his jaw and pushes a sharp breath from his nose before turning to climb back out the window and slamming it down behind him. Tim groans, throwing himself back down into the desk chair.
“Kon” he breathes. Kon is standing infront of him in his room, waiting.
“I miss you.” the voice he knows so well meets his ears. “I miss talking to you, holding you”
“I’m here.” Tim responds the same way he always does.
He reaches out, and his boyfriend disintegrates between his fingers. Again. He screams out for him, begging for him to come back, but he’s left alone. Again.
Tim shoots up; he’s still at his desk. It’s not unfamiliar; he’s gotten used to this dream and waking up anywhere but his bed. How long has this been happening for now? God, he doesn’t even know what day it is. He bangs his head on the wood and curses. He’s filled by that vile rage once more. Why Kon? Why not him? Kon was a much better person than Tim is; he wouldn’t have stooped to the low levels he has. He pushes himself up and flings the contents of his desk off the polished wood surface, leaning against it. He slowly brings his head up, making eye contact with that damn case file.
Tim is going to find that base and he’s going to stop Penguin and Scarecrow by himself. No matter how low he has to stoop.