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The rhythmic tapping of fingers on his nightstand was not something Tim usually woke up to. He wasn’t even used to another person being in his room, yet someone was definitely sitting next to his bed. Probably staring at his back and noticing the little jerk he gave as he pulled the blanket around him tighter.
The fingers stopped to move and the room fell silent. No birds sang outside his window and no one was puttering around in the kitchen downstairs. The manor usually was quiet in the early morning, but this silence was different. This silence was thick, putting pressure on Tim in a way he hadn’t thought possible.
He didn’t want to turn. Didn’t want to look over his shoulder to see the person sitting by his bed.
Someone was there, but he didn’t feel them; the only reason he knew they were even in his room had been the tapping. A deliberate sound made by a person that could so easily vanish into nothing… Tim swallowed. Maybe it was just his brain playing tricks on him again. It wasn’t unusual.
Inhaling, he loosened his fists, letting the blanket slip through his fingers. He was just being paranoid. Just imagining things. If he turned back, he would see nothing that hadn’t been there yesterday, just his desk and the cluttered mess made of clothes and games and computer parts.
Tim counted to ten. Then to twenty. Finally, he opened his eyes but didn’t turn, not yet. He still needed to count to another ten or twenty to do that. Staring at the wall his bed faced, he strained his ears. But there really was nothing. Not anymore at least.
He was about to roll on his back when he heard it: a small intake of breath, just a moment before he heard the voice.
“Good morning, detective. I see the assassins failed again.”
With a choked scream, Tim whirled around, backing against the wall as he faced his visitor. The man was big, bigger than Tim and quite a few pounds heavier. His face was hidden by a mask, but his clothes were similar to the ones the assassins last night had worn. Ra’s assassins.
“You’re League,” he hissed, one of his hands fisting the blanket to his chest again.
The other hummed before cocking his head to the side. “In a way. I’m an associate of Talia’s.” Raising a hand to his mask, the man revealed his face. “And Bruce’s.”
Tim’s lungs refused to work. His eyes blinked fast to fight the sudden tears that threatened to spill. He was afraid. Very afraid. This man was dangerous for more than one reason; least of all his League training.
“Jason?”
“Replacement.” Jason’s lips drew back into a parody of a smile, baring his teeth.
Tim looked around for a weapon, finding his situation way worse than he’d thought at first. His back was to the wall and his legs were still tangled in the sheets - and this was Jason. Jason Todd. The Robin Bruce had lost and the assassin that had come back years later as Talia’s champion.
“I never understood how Ra’s could be that fascinated with you,” Jason continued, his arms crossed over his chest. His voice seemed almost bored but his gaze stayed on Tim. Without looking away, he reached for something on the nightstand. Something Tim remembered with a sudden shock that settled in his stomach, hot and heavy like a melting stone.
Jason twirled the knife around his fingers, his smile growing lazy. A knife that seemed to belong into his hand, seemed to be more of an extension of his arm than a separate tool.
A knife that Tim had taken from the assassins earlier.
They jumped at the same time, Tim pushing himself off the wall while Jason dived from his chair. It was a close call, but Tim ducked under the swipe, barely keeping the knife from slitting his throat.
Retreating backward was no option and the blankets didn’t allow Tim to do more than tug his legs under him and roll over the mattress. He kicked the offending cloth away as soon as he had put some distance between them.
Jason’s eyes raked over him, his grin back full force when Tim realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.
“I’m… starting to get what he sees in you,” the assassin chuckled, but he raised his head to look at the ceiling. And… was he blushing?
Tim was stupefied. He didn’t move when Jason tugged his chin down to his chest in a jerky parody of a nod, never once looking back at him. The knife landed on the discarded blankets with a soft thud, shocking Tim out of his stupor.
“Hold onto this for me,” Jason said before leaving. “You might need it next time I’m coming for you.”