Chapter Text
They drive in uneasy silence for the first five minutes. Jason’s mind is too loud for it to stay that way for long.
“Why did you take me with you instead of the Golden Boy?” He asks Bruce.
Bruce glances at him quickly before looking back at the road. “You’re the one that came to us with this. I figured that Tim is probably at WE, so you should be there when we find him.”
“You seriously didn’t know that Tim has been running your company for you?”
He heaves a sigh. “No.”
Jason scoffs. “Of course not. Some detective you are.”
They’re close to the building now. The tall structure stands proud amongst the Gotham skyline. Years ago, Jason went there with Bruce when he was sick. Bruce hadn’t wanted to leave him home by himself. The memory sits heavy in his chest now. He hadn’t been thinking about it a few days ago when he came here to return Tim’s card.
“You have to understand that…I was not myself when Tim came along. I didn’t want another Robin.”
Jason doesn’t respond. He keeps his jaw clenched and his gaze out the window.
“Tim is stubborn. He’s passionate, and determined.” Bruce continues. “He’s so smart. Smarter than me, in a lot of ways.”
“What are you sayin’ old man? That you didn’t have a choice?”
“No, there’s always a choice. I don’t regret making Tim Robin. But…I do regret a lot of what came after.”
They pull into the parking garage below the building, quickly pulling into the first empty spot that they see. Bruce kills the engine, but doesn’t get out yet.
“Tim is very good at only revealing what he wants you to see.”
“And you let him.” Jason snarls.
“Yes.” Bruce whispers. “It was easier, to let myself believe that he was just that independent. To not look past his mask.”
“So why stop now?”
Bruce unbuckles his seat belt, placing his hand on the door handle. “Because the mask is breaking. You were right, he’s not okay.”
Then he gets out of the car, leaving Jason to follow without another word.
***
Tim doesn’t know why everything is so loud. He doesn’t like it. So many voices all talking at once, to him, or each other. He isn’t sure. Some of them sound angry, and it’s making his stomach turn. It’s making his eyes water, and his body tremble.
Anger means pain. It means his mother’s sharp nails digging into his skin. It means welts on his back from his father. It means cuts and scrapes from Batman’s training. It means Ra’s pressing bruises into already scarred skin.
The angry voices get louder. There’s some familiar ones, but his ears are ringing. He thinks that he’s sitting down, but he can’t be totally sure.
Why are people still yelling? He’s been good. He can be good.
Tim covers his ears, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t like it here.
***
The moment that the elevator opens and they walk into the lobby on the top floor, Jason knows something is wrong. Paula, the receptionist, is ushering a group of people in suits to the stairs. Tam Fox is standing by the bathroom door, yelling to whoever was inside. Tim, probably.
She startles when she sees them. “Bruce!”
“Tamara? What’s going on?”
They both go over to her.
“It’s Tim. He freaked out during a meeting, then just ran in here and locked himself in. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“What d’you mean he freaked out?” Jason asks.
“I’m not sure. I think he was having a panic attack?”
Bruce’s expression twitches. He probably didn’t know that even Tim had panic attacks. To be fair, Jason didn’t either. But he hasn’t known the kid as long as Bruce has.
Jason tries the door handle. “Any idea what triggered it?”
Tam steps aside to let him. “No. But those assholes from the law firm certainly didn’t help. They started yelling, and Tim has been silent in there ever since.”
“Make a note of which firm it was, Miss Fox.” Bruce says. “And go call your father. Tell him I need to speak to him as soon as we figure this all out.”
She nods, and hurries to the elevator to do as she was told. Once she leaves, Jason pulls out the lock picks from his pocket. Bruce knocks on the door softly, pressing his ear to it so he can try and hear what Tim was doing on the other side.
“Tim? Son, can you hear me?”
There’s no sound. Nothing to even indicate that anybody is in there. The lock clicks open.
“We’re coming in, Timbo.” Jason says, then he turns the handle.
It takes a second to even see him once they’re in there. Tim is huddled in the corner by the sink, knees to his chest. He was covering his ears, and his eyes were shut tightly. His breath was coming in small, quiet hitches.
Bruce crouches down by him. “Hey, bud. Are you okay?”
Tim lifts his head, and Jason nearly gasps. The kid’s gaze was far away, and he was mumbling to himself.
He was dissociating. Badly.
Bruce seems to recognize what is happening as well. He reaches his hands out, stopping just before he makes contact. “Can I touch you?”
Tim stares at him, blinking slowly. His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. He doesn’t say anything.
Jason bites the inside of his cheek. “We need to get him out of here.”
“I know.” Bruce sighs. “But I don’t want to freak him out further.”
“Well we can’t really make it any worse!”
The kid flinches when Jason raises his voice. Just barely. He digs his nails into his legs where he’s holding them.
“Sorry.” Tim whispers. It’s the first thing he’s said since they found him. He looks up at them with glassy eyes. “I’ll be good.”
Bruce’s breath hitches. Jason feels his heart stutter in his chest. Tim pushes himself to his knees, but stays there. Hands clasped behind his back. The perfect image of a man sinking to compliance. A soldier awaiting orders. A boy expecting to be punished.
If he had any less control, Jason would have thrown up. Or screamed. Maybe both. But he reigns it all in as best he can. Digs crescent shaped dents into his palms to ground himself.
He opens his mouth to say something. Anything. Nothing comes out.
“Tim.” Bruce carefully keeps his voice even. “Stand up, please.”
The kid gracefully rises to his feet. Even as his knees shake, his calm expression doesn’t waver. It’s the opposite of what happened at the manor. He was fighting, there. He yelled, and cried, and didn’t let anybody touch him except for Alfred.
This is different. Worse, somehow. Tim listens easily, calms his breathing before it has a chance to pick up again. He practically looks straight through them. Like he’s a prisoner in his own body. His mind has gone somewhere else.
“Can you follow us? We want to take you home, son.” Bruce holds out his hand.
Tim nods, taking the offered hand. They walk out of the bathroom, getting on the elevators to go back to the parking garage. There’s no reaction out of the kid the whole time. He just lets them usher him into the back seat so they can drive back to the manor.
It takes Bruce a whopping seven minutes to drive them home. Jason texts Dick to tell him that they found Tim at WE. He hurries out of the car and goes to open the door for the kid.
“Let’s go inside, kiddo.” He says gently.
Tim grabs his hand without prompt. Just ready to let Jason lead him wherever. It makes something in his gut twist. Bruce keeps worried eyes on them as they go unlock the door to go inside.
Alfred is waiting in the entrance for them. “Welcome back, lads. Master Timothy, how are you feeling?”
The kid was keeping his head down, gripping Jason’s fingers tightly. Still dissociating despite all the changes of scenery, and the different forms of sensory input. Even all of them talking to him. None of these things have pulled him from the deep spot where he’s hiding in his mind.
Alfred frowns at the lack of response, but doesn’t push. He turns to Bruce. “We have a visitor waiting in the family room, sir.”
Bruce tenses. “Who?”
“Miss Kyle received your message. She showed up a few moments after you left.”
“Oh.” Jason releases a breath he didn’t realize he was even holding. “Good.”
He pulls Tim with him down the hallway, leaving Bruce and Alfred to whisper amongst themselves about what to do next. Dick and Damian must still be driving back from Tim’s apartment, because Jason can’t see them anywhere when he walks into the family room.
Selina is sitting on the couch, but once she spots them she rises gracefully to her feet so she can approach. Always so fluid in her movement no matter what.
She hurries to meet them halfway across the room. “What happened?”
For a reason completely unknown to Jason, Selina Kyle’s voice is what finally elicits a response in Tim since they first found him in that bathroom. The kid snaps his head up to look at her, and his glassy eyes focus in on her.
He steps toward her, immediately stumbling without Jason’s grip on his hand. Selina grabs onto his shoulders to steady him.
He shakily grabs onto her arms. “Why’re you here?”
“I’m here to check on you, kitten.” She tells him. “We’re all worried about you. Where have you been?”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, making him look a little like a confused puppy as he tilts his head. “Working. I was—I was at work.”
“Right.” Jason agrees, coming to stand by the two of them. “Wanna tell us why you were freaking the hell out when we found ya?”
Tim glances at him, his gaze sharper than before, but not by much. “What?”
Selina frowns, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “We want to know what happened at work, honey.”
He tenses when her fingers first brush his skin, like he’s waiting for the touch to turn painful. When it doesn’t, he leans into it with a slightly pained expression. It makes Jason think back to when Tim melted into his touch while he was sleeping. Subconsciously seeking warmth from anything close to him.
“He was…he didn’t remember me.” Tim responds. “Didn’t even recognize me.”
Jason tries to meet his eyes again, but the kid doesn’t look at him. He stares past Selina’s shoulder, head lolling against her hand. She uses her other hand to grasp the back of his neck, steadying him.
“That’s not fair.” Tim continues. His eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t..I didn’t want to see him, Sel.”
“See who, kid? One of the guys in your office?” Jason asks. It’s the only logical thing he could be talking about.
“I don’t—” His voice breaks off in a sob. “Why did he do that? He’s evil, Selina. I-I can’t justify it. The math doesn’t work. It doesn’t work.”
He falls forward into Selina’s arms. Jason wraps an arm around his shoulders to help bear the weight as he buries his face into her neck. Neither of them try and make him stand back up to his full height, they just let him lean on them as he cries.
“I tried to make it work.”
“Make what work?” Selina asks softly.
“The logic.” Tim mutters. “There had to be a reason.”
“Timbo, you gotta be more specific.” Jason gently squeezes his shoulder. “What’re you sayin’?”
“I can’t—I can’t stop remembering.”
The whole room stills.
Jason Peter Todd has lived two lives now. Both hard. Both full of pain, and evil. He’s seen things that he can’t even bear to say out loud. He has experienced things that he’s never told anybody about. He is not oblivious to other people’s struggles, even if he doesn’t understand them.
He knows exactly what his little brother is saying.
It takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his breathing even, and his hands steady. He shoves down the sudden nausea, and the rage trying to claw its way out of his chest.
Selina uses all of her strength to pull Tim closer to her. Like she could hold the fractured pieces of him together through sheer force of will.
“But I have to, and they don’t.” Tim continues. “That’s not fair.”
Jason opens his mouth to say something. He chokes on it. He swallows and tries again. “Shit…I know. I know, kid. It’s not fair. It’s not fuckin’ fair.”
Tim breathes shakily in between them, likely not even comprehending what he’s saying. What he’s just revealed to them. Lord knows Jason didn’t say it out loud until he had to, until it was choking him so often that he had to speak it just so that he wouldn’t suffocate on it. It seems like Tim’s already half way there himself, and none of them knew.
Bruce’s voice comes from the entryway. “Tim?”
The kid tenses, turning his face into Selina’s neck like he’s trying to hide. She tangles her slim fingers into his hair and lets him use her as a shield. Jason slowly pulls away from them both, trusting her to keep Tim afloat so he can talk with their father.
“Hallway.” He grounds out behind clenched teeth.
Bruce follows him wordlessly. Dick, Damian, and Alfred are out there as well. Good. Jason doesn’t really want to have to say this more than once. He’s already a moment away from throwing up, or throwing his fist into the wall. Or maybe just bursting into tears.
“We found these in Tim’s apartment.” Dick says the moment they’re facing each other. He holds out a bottle of pills.
Jason grabs them from him, inspecting the label. “Ya, his assistant gave ‘em to him when I was at WE the other day. Said Leslie was putting him on new ones.”
“What are they?” Bruce asks.
“They are antibiotics.” Damian answers. “The kind often used to prevent infection.”
Alfred nods. “Indeed. But why exactly does Master Tim need them?”
They all look to Jason. He just shrugs. He doesn’t fucking know, and his brain is a little fuzzy from the green trying to sneak its way to the forefront of his mind.
He scowls. “I don’t know what the fuckin’ pills are for. There’s somethin’ else ya need to know.”
“What is it?” Bruce frowns at him.
Jason takes a breath. “Tim said something…”
***
Selina remembers the first time she met Timothy Drake. He was seven years old, charming everyone around him with his polite smile as his parents mingled with the other people at the charity ball they were attending. It was a prestigious event meant only for Gotham’s most elite families.
The boy was dressed in a neatly fitted tuxedo, and he was easily adored by all of the people who spoke with him. It wasn’t until the very end of the night, just before everyone went home, that she got a chance to introduce herself.
At the time she was trying to get information on when his parents would leave town next so that she could go steal one of their newest artifacts. But one conversation with the young boy entranced her. He was so smart for his age. Noticing everything about everyone around him.
She made it a point to keep an eye on him at the next large event, just out of curiosity. That’s when she noticed some of the red flags about his parents. Not that she was oblivious to the Drake’s cold, calculated nature to begin with. But still, watching seven year old Timmy carefully suppress small flinches every time his mother raised her hand near him made Selina sick to her stomach.
She noticed how controlling they were, and how passive he was in response. Obedient no matter what. What she didn’t realize back then was how much he had still managed to hide from her. From everyone. The extent of the cruelty he faced in those environments was truly well beyond what she suspected.
Selina starts to pull back from the kid to get a better look at him, but it causes his breathing to hitch and his hands to tighten in her shirt briefly. He drops to his knees, forcing himself to let go of her to wrap his arms around himself instead. He digs his fingers into his sides harshly.
“Sorry—I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I promise. Don’t leave, please.” He begs her in a trembling voice.
“Honey, we need to get your father—”
Tim sobs, curling in on himself further. “No, please. Please don’t.”
“Okay, okay we don’t have to. But I want you to lay down, kitten. I think you have a fever.”
She kneels down in front of him, holding out a hand for him to take. He looks up at her with bloodshot, tear filled eyes. But luckily he reaches his trembling fingers out to take hers. She carefully helps him up and guides him over to the couch.
Selina sits down and tugs him down until he’s lying with his head in her lap. She smooths his hair back as he just looks at her with a confused frown.
“I should have seen more.” She tells him, using her fingers to wipe at the tears on his face. “I’m sorry, Tim.”
His eyelids were already starting to droop, but he lightly grabs her wrist. “It’s okay.”
She can’t help the way her eyes start to sting. She feels an indescribable mix of rage and utter sadness. A nauseating cocktail of injustice and despair at the situation. There have been very few times in her adult life where she’s felt as helpless as she does right now, holding this broken child who’s not hers.
“It’s not okay, sweet boy.” Selina cards her fingers through his hair so that she can pretend they’re not shaking. “It’s not.”
Tim is clearly trying very hard not to give in to sleep, but it’s a losing battle given all the stuff he’s been through today. He most definitely has a fever. He’s probably sick from overworking himself. She scratches lightly at his head, watching as it makes him melt even more. He mumbles something under his breath that she can’t make out.
“Shh go to sleep, honey. You need the rest.”
That was all the permission he needed. His breathing slowly evens out as his head lolls to the side. Once she’s sure that he’s out, she carefully pulls her phone out of her pocket and sends a message to Bruce to come in here.
She could vaguely hear some arguing earlier, and what sounded like somebody throwing up, but it’s been quiet for at least five minutes now. She’s assuming that Jason told the others what Tim had said. What it means.
It only takes a moment before Bruce comes in quietly. He looks absolutely wrecked. Wrinkled sweater, red eyes, mussed up hair. Nobody else follows him, so they must be still talking or doing something else. Maybe they’re out looking for everything else they’ve missed about their brother.
He comes over and kneels down in front of them, right in front of Tim. The kid doesn’t stir at all when Bruce softly strokes his cheek. He just sighs and leans into the contact. Bruce smiles sadly at it.
“How is he doing?”
Selina swallows past the lump in her throat. “I think he’s sick.”
She knows that’s not what he’s asking, but it’s all she can give him right now.
He moves his hand to Tim’s forehead and hums quietly. “Definitely a fever.”
“That’s what I was thinking too.”
Bruce nods, watching the rise and fall of his son’s chest. They don’t say anything for a minute. Just waiting. Both of them know that once this moment is over they have to face everything again. So they stay still. They listen to the fireplace crackle. They keep their eyes locked on the kid.
They breathe in the smell of the manor and pretend that’s enough to stop the sickening guilt they both feel. Selina doesn’t know if it works.
Bruce breaks the silence first. “I should take him to the med bay.”
She nods. “He needs something to keep his temperature down.”
It looks nearly effortless as Bruce snakes one arm under his son’s back, and the other under his knees so he can lift him up. Tim shifts but doesn’t wake, tucking his head under the man’s chin and curling his fingers in the soft sweater that Bruce is wearing.
He starts to walk toward the door, and Selina can’t help it. She has to be sure.
“Tell me you didn’t know, Bruce.”
It makes his feet stutter. He stops. He doesn’t turn around. When his voice comes out it’s heavy with an emotion that she can’t name.
“No, Selina…I didn’t know.”
It hangs in the air like a noose waiting to suffocate them. You should have. We both should have.
Bruce carries his son out of the room.
The tears finally fall free from her eyes once she’s alone. Selina covers her mouth with one hand to muffle the sob that makes its way out of her throat. It hurts in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. She lets herself feel for the seven year old boy that she met ten years ago.
But then she reins it in. Because she needs to go find the others.
There’s work to be done.