Chapter Text
Tim had been on a mission on the outskirts of Gotham, staking out some customers who thought they would try and stiff the League of Assassins (which is an overall terrible idea, but whatever), when he saw a familiar glimpse of red, green, and yellow out of the corner of his eye.
Not making a physical indication that he noticed anything, he quickly shook the bird off his trail. Still keeping eyes on Robin, Damian looked around and cursed himself for losing his target.
It was then that Tim dropped down next to him and quickly slammed him against the wall, using his size to overpower him, but that didn’t stop Damian from struggling, “Why are you following me?”
Damian seemed to realize who was attacking him and stopped struggling, “I didn’t come to fight. I just want to… talk.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed at the boy, but ultimately found no trace of ill will and released the boy, “You have five minutes. Talk.”
Seeming at a loss for a second, Damian sputtered before composing himself before simply stating, “You should come home.”
Shaking his head, Tim sighed, “It’s not that easy, Damian.”
Damian was silent for a moment, “They miss you everyday. They compare everything I do to you. As if you are the standard and I’m… not good enough,” Damian looked down, “I’m not a good enough assassin to be the heir and I’m not a good enough Robin to be your successor.”
“Damian…,” Tim for once sympathized with a boy he used to hate. He realizes now that Damian’s rage was only a defense mechanism employed to try and prove himself and eliminate competition. Damian’s just a kid, trying to prove he can be seen as equal by the adults.
“No, listen,” Damian looked back at Tim, “I have given it thought and I believe you should go back to them and I will take your place in the League. They will forgive your transgressions and understand my decision.”
Tim smiled sadly at the boy in front of him, “Damian, I can’t let you do that, you’re just a kid and I can’t be responsible for you throwing your life away,” He conveniently left out the fact that Ra’s would not want his grandson as an heir, but only as a host body when the time was right.
“But they miss you,” Damian’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t understand why Tim was resistant to his plan, “And you don’t like me, I assumed you would accept on that basis.”
Shaking his head, Tim laid a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “And they would miss you too, Bat Brat,” the insult held no malice, “And I never hated you, I just hated how you took up a mantle I wasn’t ready to give up,” A thoughtful look crossed his face, “Though I suppose you would understand that now.”
Damian swallowed, “Indeed.”
“So, that is why I stay. I serve the League, so you never have to,” Tim would never admit it aloud, but the brat was starting to grow on him. Pulling a transmitter out of his pocket, he handed it to Damian, “Here. If you ever need me, I’ll be there.”
Taking it gingerly, Damian looked it over before nodding, “Understood,” He paused, “…Thank you.”
Tim smiled, a rare soft smile, before walking backwards toward the edge of the building, “Anytime, Baby Bat. Don’t hesitate to call.”
Tim jumped off the building and into the night. Maybe life post-league didn’t have to be so cut and dry after all.