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The sun had only just begun to set as Red Robin sat cross-legged on the roof of a small pagoda in Aparo Park. He was fully aware it was not just too early to patrol properly but that it was also foolish, potentially compromising and dangerous to be sitting in such an open space in broad daylight. Anyone could come by and see him. The night, the darkness was every vigilante’s friend and almost-protector in this town. Risking being recognised meant risking being put in jail. And not just for him, but for the entire family.
But right now, Tim really couldn’t care less about sticking to the shadows. He’d needed to get away – from people, from responsibilities, from expectations. To get out and have some time to cool down and most importantly: think.
Why would Bruce go through such lengths to save one son but not the other?
His insides contracted painfully at the thought. Seventeen days since Dick’s funeral. Three days since Damian’s return.
Why would Bruce just leave one dead and buried while storming heaven and hell for the other?
Tim hunched forward, leaning his forehead on his tightly closed fist. His eyes were wide open but unseeing underneath the mask. Exhaustion was crawling through his body, numbing the throbbing pain in his right shoulder. There was an ache lodged somewhere deep inside where he couldn’t reach it.
He wanted to understand. That’s what he did, wasn’t it? He understood things. He was supposed to be the clever one. He could see connections like few others could, always aware of all the details, no matter how minute or seemingly inconsequential they might seem. His enemies, no matter how much they wished to see his severed head on a silver platter, respected his brain and what it was capable of. Detective was what Ra’s al Ghul called him. If something was his saving grace in this business, it was his mind.
But at this moment, it didn’t matter how fast he let the gears turn, the wheels spin. It just didn’t make sense. He’d tried to look at the evidence from all angles, tried to account for all possibilities, uncertainties, contingencies. He’d even added emotions, memories and fears into the equation. But it was no use, he could change all the variables as much as he wanted, the answer stayed the same.
Bruce cares more about Damian than the rest of us. The little gremlin was right.
And the thought hurt like few other things had in Tim’s life. He’d always known his position in the family was precarious at best, the son Bruce hadn’t chosen but entered his life nonetheless. But to see their father disregarding Dick Grayson, the first, the best, the favourite – not even sparing a single thought for his potential revival, focussing on Damian’s return with an unprecedented case of tunnel vision –
So he kept searching for another answer because he didn’t want to – couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. But logic had never failed him, and he knew it wasn’t failing him now.
Tim uncurled his fist, dragging his palm across his face in slow, calculated motions. He grimaced when the movement aggravated his shoulder, sending a sharp sting of pain through the joint.
The worst part of this was that he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame Damian for this. He wanted to, he honest to God wanted to just blame the little demon, to lash out and curse and give him the fight Damian was asking for so often – but Tim’s stupid sense of righteousness, of logic and rationale, kept reminding him that Damian, despite his boasts, his bragging, his words couldn’t have been the reason that made Bruce change his mind about them. It wasn’t Damian’s fault he was Bruce’s only biological son, that shared blood carried more weight than shared history.
And that was why he’d only defended himself earlier, only redirected Damian’s attacks instead of throwing them back at him, even when he’d purposely aimed for Tim’s bad shoulder, landing a hit that had the older groan and clutch at the joint before leaving and deciding on an early patrol, ignoring the feeling of the bones grating against each other with each movement.
Tim wasn’t even quite sure why he’d bothered – why he’d decided to stay at the Manor for now. It wasn’t as if he and Damian had any kind of relationship that wasn’t based on mutual disdain. And yet, the moment the words ‘Damian is back’ had reached his ears, Tim had already been up and halfway through the door before his answer – I’m on my way – had left his mouth.
He still didn’t know what must’ve been going through his head at the time. Just the mere thought of someone from their midst returning from the afterlife, even if it was the demon spawn, had left him with a weird sense of relief – One less death to add to the tally.
But unfortunately, Bruce had... neglected to inform Damian of Dick’s death, heading for patrol without a freshly resurrected Robin at his side, instead leaving it toRed Robin to stumble into a displeased Damian standing in front of the memorial in the Cave, shoulders rigid.
What is the meaning of this?!
Tim’s own throat had gone dry, his insides frigid, as trepidation had snowballed into him with all the force of a landslide. Why me?! Of all people…
Damian… had not taken it well. He’d attacked – earnestly and with the clear intention to injure – Tim before the latter had finished the sentence, faltering and stumbling over the words because he still hated hearing them himself.
And that was what the past few days had been like. Damian boiling with rage just at the sight of him, hissing and barely restraining himself even in Bruce’s or Alfred’s presence. Every time he looked at Tim, a murderous blaze ignited his eyes as if it was Tim’s fault his favourite person was dead.
Red Robin let out a sigh, long and drawn and weary. I should go back to the Nest. I should fucking learn and defend myself seriously or he will kill me these days. He shook his head at his own foolishness, gingerly massaging his shoulder.
And that’s when he saw something curious in the distance. A young boy, he couldn’t quite determine how old exactly but judging his height and form no older than seven years, probably less, was running along the path leading to the west exit of the park. Tim frowned when the other occasional visitors didn’t pay the boy much attention even when he stumbled and fell to the ground. Red Robin tensed, slowly rising when the boy stayed on the ground for a moment before scrambling back to his feet to continue his unsteady run.
This doesn’t look right.
Red Robin moved to the edge of the pagoda and jumped down, landing silently on the grass and trying to think of the best way to approach the child without scaring him away by suddenly dropping down onto the ground right in front of his nose.
The boy was passing by the old playground now, the constructions long since beyond disrepair. Tim was sure it should’ve been demolished a long time ago but somehow hadn’t, and he vaguely recalled hearing about teenagers with… questionable habits using it as their meeting place.
As if on cue, a pair of young men, probably around Tim’s own age, emerged from the rotten playhut and even across the distance he could see the two of them spotting the distressed boy stumbling past on his short legs. Alarm bells rang in Red Robin’s head and he immediately picked up his pace, moving out of the shadows and blind spots he’d previously stuck to and rushing in a swift pace past the occasional civilian startled by his sudden appearance out of seemingly nowhere.
The teenagers had caught up to the boy now and were cornering him, blocking his path and forcing him onto the playground. Tim growled deep in his throat when none of the other park-goers could be bothered to do more than glance at the obviously unacceptable scene playing out between the slide and the same playhut curiously, all hurrying along, too busy with their own business to help a child in distress. He glared at a woman looking at the small group as if it was a particularly interesting TV skit, even stopping to get a better view as he vaulted over the fence right next to her. The grim satisfaction spreading through his chest when she recoiled at the sight of him, rushing to leave, did little to compensate the boiling anger he felt towards people like this.
Red Robin slowed a little once he was close enough to understand what was being said and it made his stomach turn. He had no idea what those teenagers were planning on doing, but if it involved luring a crying seven-years-old to their ‘cool secret base’, it couldn’t be good. Tim had half a mind to commend the boy for not rising to the bait, and his parents, too, for making him understand why that was a bad thing.
Without further ado, Tim noiselessly moved around the corner and was now hidden behind the support columns of the slide. He assessed their appearance and body language to get a sense for what they were trying to accomplish and why – damaged clothes that barely fit, most of it torn and too large with stains he didn’t care to know the origin of; slouched, but somewhat unsteady, shuffling on the spot rather suggesting their sense of balance was impaired than nervousness about getting caught doing something wrong – yeah, definitely a pair of teenagers high as kites on more than just marijuana, having an epiphany on how to finance their next fix. Probably barely aware of what they were doing.
Within one fluid movement, Red Robin appeared directly behind the teenagers, the child’s red-rimmed eyes going wide when they spotted him materialising apparently out of thin hair. He lay a heavy hand on each teen’s shoulder, causing them to jerk violently.
“Yeah, I don’t think he wants to see your secret base.”
One of the guys craned his neck to look at him which was when Red Robin saw their pupils were practically non-existent, already staggering back and tripping over his own feet. But the other seemed to have a more explosive temper, so to speak, and whirled around, fist raised and poorly aimed.
Red Robin spun out of the way, one hand gripping his wannabe-assailant’s arm when the guy lost his balance due to his own momentum and twisted it onto his back. Not too hard, but enough to make sure the guy would stay put. At the same time, his other hand retrieved his collapsible bo staff, extracted it and pressed one end into the other teenager’s jugulum, rooting him to the spot. He just stared back, not really leaving the impression of truly understanding what was even happening.
“Nice try, but no.”
Without much preamble, he whacked both of them over the head; not to knock them out, but to leave them dazed to zip-tie them where they ended up sitting on the ground and sending a quick message to the GCPD. He turned to the boy who was still staring at him in amazement, earlier distress completely forgotten. Tim felt a smile tugging at his lips. He was about to open his mouth and ask what the boy was doing here when he could hear shouting in the distance.
“– are you? RAY!”
The boy seemed to hear it, too, for he instantly perked up and shot right past him, screaming “JULIAN!” loud enough to actually make Tim wince and reflexively cover his ear. Once he turned around, the boy was already skidding out of the playground and to the right out of sight. Red Robin hurried after him, stopping once his view wasn’t blocked by the playground’s constructions anymore.
He was just in time to see the boy launching himself into the arms of an older boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, who pressed him tightly against himself and didn’t look as if he wanted to let go again.
Something heavy settled in Tim’s chest. It was obvious the two of them were brothers – they had the same sandy-brown hair and even from this distance, he could see the similarities in their bone structure. He knew it was stupid of him to feel the wounds Dick’s death had left rip open at this heartwarming sight, but… it reminded him so much of back then, when things between the two of them had still been good – great, even. Of the time in Ra’s al Ghul’s hideout where Tim had been about to make one of the most foolish decisions of his life, Dick there to catch him once the weight of the consequences had caught up with Tim. Of Dick clinging to him, both using him as an anchor as well as refusing to let him out of sight after the incident with the Joker, the first time of many when it had looked as if Tim was dead.
He had still been Robin, back then.
“– Red Robin knocked them out!”
Tim was torn out of his thoughts when a young voice excitedly said his name and he looked up. Both boys were looking at him, similarly awed expressions on their faces. Part of him was befuddled when he saw their expressions chasing at least some of the pain in his heart away.
Briefly shaking his head to gather his thoughts, he walked over to the two, easily jumping over the fence to land next to them, checking both for any signs of injury. They looked dishevelled and were clinging to each other, the bigger boy – Julian, he assumed – pressing his brother – Ray, judging the shouts from earlier – tightly against him. He smiled at them before letting his gaze linger on the younger of the two.
“Are you alright?”, he asked, “those two didn’t get to you?”
Ray shook his head wildly, hands fisting in his brother’s jacket even tighter.
“Are you – are you really Red Robin?”, Julian suddenly blurted out before freezing, probably upon the realisation of what he’d just done. Then his face did a marvellous impression of a tomato.
Tim couldn’t help the small chuckle escaping his lips. “The one and only”, he grinned and before he knew it, he was already lifting his gloved hand and lightly ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Julian! Julian! Red Robin touched your hair!”, Ray exclaimed, voice barely more than an excited whisper. A huge grin spread on Julian's face as he bobbed his head wildly in agreement.
“This is so cool – everyone at school is going to be so jealous!”
The chuckle evolved into a full laugh and Tim found himself smiling down at the two of them – God, when had he laughed like this the last time? Certainly not in the last three weeks, much less the past few days.
“Do you two need any help getting home?”, Red Robin asked. Julian shook his head and his grip on Ray’s shoulder tightened.
“No, we don’t live far from here – I lost sight of Ray when there was, uh, a commotion earlier.” Then his eyes widened in horror as if he suddenly remembered something. “Shit, I completely forgot – thank you so much for saving him! Mum would’ve killed me if something happened to him…” He nudged his little brother who looked up at Julian for a moment before taking the hint. He flushed a bright red before turning his gaze back to Tim.
“Yes, thank you very much!”
“I’m just glad you’re alright.” Some more of the weight in his chest shifted, making space for the giddiness to spread, and Red Robin tousled Ray’s hair too. He squealed, practically vibrating where he stood, pressing one of his tiny hands flat on his head and beaming up at his equally exhilarated brother.
Tim gave the two of them one final wave before turning around to disappear. More and more onlookers were gathering and even if none of them dared to come any closer, he was getting uncomfortable to be surrounded by so many civilians at the same time while the sun hadn’t quite died yet. He gave them a hard, meaningful look, almost palpable even through the lenses of his domino and noted with satisfaction that most of them seemed to get the drift and scurried off.
He frowned. That entire display just now might’ve drawn too much attention. Despite their earlier assurance that they would get home just fine, Red Robin decided to follow them from a distance to make sure no one had any funny ideas.
Just as he was about to head off to a lesser populated area of the park to circle back and keep an eye on them, something barrelled right into his leg, almost knocking him over. He looked down in bewilderment.
Down there, somewhere around his hip, he spotted a sandy-brown head of hair and felt someone clutching at his… wings?, reluctantly pulling him back. Even if Tim could free himself quite easily, he was unable to do do anything but stare down at his ‘assailant’.
“Uhm… is there anything else I can help you with?”
The courage that had allowed Ray to boldly body-tackle him seemed to vanish. Tim could see the tips of his ears burning and he tried to move away so he could get a proper look at the child’s face but the grip on his glider cape was surprisingly strong – considering who it was, that is. He glanced at Julian who was still standing where he was, looking both embarrassed as well as determined. His gaze shifted from his brother to Red Robin’s lenses.
“I, uh, I don’t – I don’t want to be rude, but, erm. We – we heard you could, uh… fly…?”
Tim almost felt like falling over. That… what? He looked back to the child attached to his cape like an oversized limpet, eyes filled with hope gleaming up at him. Something in his chest gave in and the minuscule sigh passing his lips was accompanied by a small smile.
“... Something like that, yes.”
Ray jerked, pulling hard enough on his wings that Tim actually felt it. He placed his gauntleted hand on the boy’s head once more, giving him a light pat.
“Do you want to fly, too?”
“Yes!”, Ray cried out, giving the impression that his head was about to burst any second now. Spectacularly.
Red Robin gently dislodged the boy from his leg, not even hoping to pry the tiny hands away from his cape, and dropped into a crouch, a crooked but soft smile on his face. Ray was staring at him, a few of the metallic feathers still clutched tightly in his fists. Oddly, Tim’s heart was hammering wildly against his ribcage as he spread one of his arms, prompting Ray to basically throw himself against Red Robin’s body. He fumbled for his grappling hook with the other, briefly stilling when the boy twisted in his grasp and clung onto his arm for dear life already, the small back pressing against his chest sending out an unfamiliar warmth mixed with a less unfamiliar sense of dread coursing through his veins.
It was the middle of the night when Red Robin returned to the Manor.
His thoughts had been swirling endlessly, the words Do you have brothers, too? repeating on infinite loop, bouncing around his skull and penetrating his brain from all directions, all the while laced with the remnants of that alien fondness brought on by the same pair of boys.
The pain in his chest was still fresh, raw ; memories of Dick flickering in and out of his vision because no, not anymore but there was something else, hidden behind his occipital lobe. A voice, small and thin but obstinate, unequivocal; distracting him from the matters at hand. So after the fourth time a mugger had almost gotten the better of him, Tim too caught up in his own train wreck of a brain to focus, his attacks sloppy, his reflexes slow, his landings amateurish, he had finally decided to call it quits for tonight. Finally relented to that grating, nagging voice in the back of his head, insisting yes, you do.
Tim’s head was still a mess, thoughts jumping out of and back in order within seconds, all gyrating around the same phrase asked after their indulgent little stint, causing him to almost flee the site, that was alternating between setting his synapses on fire and dousing them in icy water. He entered the tunnel to access the Cave on his bike at a speed much faster than was normally advised, his wings flaring out behind him. Bruce was still out; it was comparatively early but he hadn’t said anything when Red Robin had announced he was going to turn in.
It didn’t take long until Tim took the final turn, much sharper than intended, and pulled the brakes abruptly, coming to a screeching halt on the parking platform, leaving black skid marks on the ground he couldn’t quite find the energy to care about. The Cave was cast in shadows, the main lights unlit and only the few lamps scattered around the trophy cases illuminated his surroundings. It was eerily silent aside from the faint fluttering and shuffling of the bats, and he almost wondered why Alfred wasn’t manning the computer like he normally did as he dismounted his bike.
But that’s when he noticed a shadow sitting in front of the memorials – one memorial in particular, in fact; the one whose addition was so recent it still felt like a punch to the gut whenever he spotted it. Tim felt a lump forming in his throat and tried to swallow around it.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had to be sitting there in the darkness, perfectly still – which was all kinds of troubling. Damian was never as still as this, barely discernible from a statue.
… He hasn’t even noticed me.
Tim stayed on the platform for a little longer, just watching Damian as he stared at the glass case and the uniform inside. It reminded him of himself, during his own tenure as Robin, when he’d sat in front of another case just like this, sometimes for hours. His lips thinned and his shoulders dropped when something inside of him shifted and clicked into place.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
He walked up to Damian, steps quiet but not completely muted, but he still received no visible response. Only when he stopped right behind him and looked down at the black hair that barely reached his thighs, letting out a low breath, did the lean shoulders tense but miraculously, he wasn’t attacked right away.
“Drake”, Damian said, voice wooden with the slightest of tremors. He didn’t look up, he didn’t even turn around.
“Damian”, Tim returned after a brief moment, trying to sound even. His eyes lingered on the boy in front of him for another moment before slowly lifting to settle on the memorial.
This wasn’t the first time he saw it, by no means – it wasn’t even the first time he stood there in silence, just looking at the black and blue suit inside. It still felt like being doused in cold water, as if his chest cavity was being torn open and filled with needles. His shoulders slumped and his throat was constricting, but Red Robin shook his head and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.
“Mind if I sit down?”, he asked, already knowing the answer.
“-tt- Do as you wish”, Damian said scathingly, but it didn’t appear to come out quite as effortlessly as usual. He must’ve been in really deep thought if he could only muster a fraction of his usual hatred for Tim.
Red Robin moved and plopped down onto the ground next to the other, gaze still fixated on the memorial. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Damian standing up.
“Stay.” Tim almost surprised himself when the words left his mouth, and even more so when his hand shot out and hovered over Damian’s arm, not quite touching because this was still Damian, even if he was being exceedingly tame right now.
“Not all of us have as much time to waste as you”, Damian snarled, narrowing his eyes at the hand daring to enter his personal space before roughly shoving it away and rising to his feet. He turned towards the stairs leading out of the Cave.
“You’re not the only one he cared about, you know.”
Tim knew that Damian would take this as a provocation – as an attack on his status in the family, his status as Dick’s partner and all the implications that went along with it. True to expectations, the younger immediately went rigid, grinding his teeth loud enough it could be heard in the silence of the cave.
“You are delusional if you –”
“And you weren’t the only one who cared about him.”
Red Robin caught the punch aimed at his face with his own hand. It hurt, but his gauntlets absorbed most of the impact. Another fist flew at his head. Tim caught it, too, tightening his fingers around Damian’s hands before meeting his gaze.
His eyes were positively burning with rage. They almost seemed to glow, giving the snarl on Damian’s lips an eerie notion. The hands in his own were shaking and Tim tightened his grip even more, straining his fingers to keep his ‘attacker’ both in place as well as in check.
“Unhand me at once!”
“No.” Tim narrowed his eyes at Damian, momentarily regretting his choice to leave the domino on. But judging the slight twitch in Damian’s eyebrow and the increased struggling to free his hands, his expression was coming across regardless. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of constantly being on edge when I’m here, of having to anticipate an attack 24/7.”
“Your inferior –”
“And I’m particularly sick of you using me as a stress ball when you refuse to let yourself feel.”
Tim let go of Damian’s hands, causing them to fly back and their owner to actually stumble for half a second before he was able to catch himself. He let his eyes linger on the other for a moment before slowly shifting back towards the memorial. For a brief moment, silence blanketed them and the entire Cave.
“So please, for Dick’s sake…”, Tim continued after a brief moment, voice much more subdued than it had been previously. “Just… stay.”
He wasn’t quite sure what his request would garner him; he wasn’t honestly expecting Damian to listen to him now. Despite his earlier words, he was prepared to block another attack at a moment’s notice. But after a few very long seconds, during which he could almost feel the other’s eyes burning into the side of his skull, probably imagining dozens of ways to deliver a quick yet painful death, he heard a quiet huff and Damian actually returned to stand next to him. His posture was stiff, arms crossed in front of his chest and feet apart, ready to change into a fighting stance within a second, but to his credit, he kept silent.
A few minutes passed in which neither of them said anything, just staring at the glass case and the too-familiar suit inside of it. Tim still had no real idea of what he was doing, just following his continuously clenching and unclenching gut. He wasn’t even sure what he hoped to gain from this, but the same voice in the back of his head was still there, whispering into his ear that he should keep going.
“... He used to be my Batman, too, you know. For a while.” This admission made him feel awkward.
Damian scoffed, shifting his weight. “I am aware. Grayson mentioned he was forced to babysit your unskilled posterior. He also revealed your cowardice.”
Tim snorted. Damian could only be talking about one thing. “Yet here I am today, with more air miles than the rest of you combined”, he said, voice deadpan. His efforts merely rewarded him with an indignant growl and a glare. He met it with a flat stare of his own which was, of course, hidden by his domino.
Silence engulfed them once more and it was weird to be sitting here. On the ground, in front of another memorial. Tim moved to pull one of his knees up, leaning his elbow against it, mulling over whether it was a good idea to continue or to leave Damian for now, to let him stew over what had been said instead of pressing his luck. If only the thought of heading upstairs didn’t make him feel like a wimp. He slowly removed his domino and held it in his hand, looking right through it as he tried to figure out what to do.
He tilted his head to watch Damian through his bangs. His back was still straight, chest puffed out, but his shoulder seemed a little less tense, the scowl on his face a little less menacing. He was fixated on the glass case, too, and Tim could tell from his eyes that he wasn’t entirely here, either.
Tim finally reached a decision. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply before breathing out through his nose. “I’m tired of fighting with you.”
Damian’s eyes darted back to him, narrowing at his words. “-tt- Do you finally concede you are outclassed?”
Red Robin couldn’t help himself. He rolled his eyes and briefly felt his temper flaring.
“Can you – just once – stop being such a pretentious, insufferable little brat and listen?”, he said brusquely, tone not quite as scathing as it could be but it got the point across regardless. Damian’s mouth snapped shut and despite his glare intensifying, it stayed that way.
“As I was saying", Tim continued, willing his irritation away, "I'm tired of fighting with you. You miss him and finding out the way you did was complete shit, and I…" He faltered. Was this really the moment to reveal that he had been in – that Jason had – After a few seconds, Damian made the decision for him.
"... I do not understand why Father would keep this from me", he said quietly but there was a noticeable strain in his voice. Whether it was caused by Bruce or the current situation, Tim did not know. But the current of emotions in his heart recovered from its previous state of numbness. He briefly shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I – Bruce does a lot of… weird stuff. He didn’t tell me, either.” He wasn’t sure whether it was the sudden hint of hoarseness in his voice or the admission that made Damian glance at him, the unspoken question of Who did, then? resounding in the empty space between them. “... Jason did.”
“-tt- That mongrel?” Well, at least this comment wasn’t a surprise.
Tim smiled dryly. “He did. I think… I think it was a shock to him, too”, he acknowledged, the memory of his and Jason’s brief but indelible encounter in the Titan’s Tower replaying in his head. Damian scoffed again but refrained from any other scathing commentary that must have been burning on the tip of his tongue.
And Tim wasn’t sure what did it, whether it was this or just the fact that they were sitting here without trying to hurt one another with either weapons or words or even something else entirely. The words kept spilling out of his mouth.
“I know you don’t like it, but we –”, he clutched the domino that was still in his hand, the material crinkling in his fist and the remains of the spirit gum sticking to his gauntlet. “We’re – just by courtesy of being Robin – it makes us… brothers.” Any other day and moment, Red Robin would’ve rather cut out his tongue and ate it than make this admission. But this was what his head had been telling him the entire night, wasn’t it? Convincing him that Jason – and Kon, too – were right. They were connected through the red and green and yellow and black. Always had been, always will be. And earlier, those two – Julian and Ray – and this one innocent question in particular – Do you have brothers, too? – had unearthed all this knowledge and emotion he’d buried deep inside a long time ago. Both at the Titan’s Tower as well as the floor of the Cave.
Damian made a disgruntled noise, not even bothering to let his thoughts be known – Is that a good or a bad sign? – the disdain was etched clearly on his face. Apparently, he’d had enough of this emotional shitshow and, more importantly, Tim.
He turned to leave but Red Robin instantly leapt to his feet, empty hand shooting out to hold tightly onto a slender wrist.
“Unhand me, Drake”, Damian hissed without looking at him. Tim could feel the muscles tensing underneath his fingers and he strengthened his grip, part of him marvelling at the fact his hand was still attached to his body.
“No. Look, I know you cared about Dick and don’t even pretend to claim otherwise”, Tim said with sudden clarity, as if he’d known what to say all along and the fog was finally lifted. “I may be a lot of things but I’m neither stupid nor blind.”
Of course, that was when Damian ultimately seemed to remember just how intense a hatred he felt towards Tim. He whirled around, features contorted in anger and seemed to be ready to try and punch him again. Red Robin gripped both of his shoulders and leaned down, staring directly into the younger’s eyes, unwavering. Apparently, this situation was becoming too much for his overworked brain for the only comment it supplied was a bizarre observation. Oh God, I’m already doing big brother things. He squashed it, not quite ready to tackle this trail of thought while he was busy handling something akin to a rabid demon… even if it was directed at said demon.
“I know you don’t like me”, Tim stated and had to force the hiss out of his voice. What was it about Damian that made him irritating enough to unleash his usually tightly controlled temper? “And I don’t know what your problem is, but you know I’m saying the truth. I’m not saying we suddenly have to be all buddy-buddy, God no. But you’re not the only one sad about Dick’s death, understood?”
Damian merely met his gaze, visibly grinding his teeth. The silence was enough for him to remove his hands from Damian’s shoulders and turn back to the memorial. He stepped closer to the glass case, near enough to touch it and let his eyes linger on the blue bird on the suit’s chest. His previous words were painfully true, as evidenced by his own ribcage clenching and unclenching yet again at the reminder and sight of what – of who he had lost. He idly wondered why this death hit him so much harder than any of the others had. Probably because it was Dick.
He heard Damian turning to leave, steps echoing throughout the silence of the cave. Red Robin closed his eyes and placed his palm flat on the smooth glass. I don’t know what I was thinking… He looked up at the domino mask, his own long since forgotten on the floor behind him. How did you do it? I could sure use a pointer or fifty…
“Drake.”
Tim was ripped from his mournful thoughts at the sound of Damian’s voice. He slowly moved his head to look for the younger, finding him standing at the bottom of the stairs with his back still turned to Red Robin.
“I despise you.”
That wasn’t much of a surprise, either, but Tim had a hunch Damian wasn’t quite finished yet. He inclined his head, waiting for the other to continue.
“However…” And now he was hesitating. Something almost but not nearly hopeful rose in Tim’s insides. “I… acknowledge your bond to Grayson. I may not understand why but he was clearly… attached to you. And your worship, albeit pathetic, I assure you, was poorly veiled.”
Relief blossomed in Tim’s chest and his fingers on the glass curled into a loose fist. Apparently at least some of what he’d been trying to say had gotten through. That was a start, wasn’t it?
“And I…” Now Red Robin was a little puzzled. What else was there? That had sounded quite final to his ears. He observed Damian’s back and noticed the way his shoulders were drawn up, not quite hunched, but – Tim’s eyes widened. Were the dim lights in the cave playing tricks on him or were the tips of Damian’s ears… turning red?
“I – apologise for – exploiting your weak point. Earlier. I will – I will refrain from doing so again.”
Tim’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets when Damian suddenly bolted up the stairs into the Manor, thundering steps ringing through the Cave and disturbing the bats. After a few moments of only the fluttering of disgruntled little rodents, Red Robin noticed that his mouth was indeed hanging open and thus shut it quickly. He stared after Damian, mind struggling to process the last minute.
His hand moved to his right shoulder on its own accord. The pain had disappeared while he’d been out but he still remembered it; the kick out of nowhere that would have dislocated it entirely if it had hit just a little bit further to the left. Tim’s gaze slowly wandered from the empty stairs back to the glass case in front of him before coming to a rest on the domino mask yet again. A tiny, barely visible smile appeared on his lips and he pressed his own hand to his shoulder.
… Thanks.