Chapter Text
They called him crazy, sick, in need of psychiatric help. Tim came to believe it.
But he knew he was right, so he would think about it again and end up believing that they were right, that he was really crazy, then he would think about it one more time and say he was right again.
I'm right, he repeated himself every day.
The night he had discovered everything had been one of the worst nights of his life.
He had become Robin because he saw the change in Batman, the need. Batman needed a Robin, and Tim was ready to be more than just a rich kid. He put every part of himself to work, pushing his efforts beyond the limit. He wasn't the fastest or strongest, nor was he the most agile, but he eventually earned his place in the bat cave.
God knew that Bruce had not made things easy for him, Dick on the other hand had been his downfall.
The road to hell is paved with good deeds.
Perhaps Dick had tried to be a good example, a good brother, but over time his good will had become something else. Tim remembered those months every time he closed his eyes. He had kept quiet and let it happen because he didn't want to disappoint the first Robin, he didn't want to be a hindrance to Batman.
Dick had pushed him over the cliff he was now looking at, it had been the first step, but somehow it began.
Batman had died saving the world, as it should be.
Tim had seen his parents and friends die; no death had ever left him this devastated. Perhaps Kon's death, but that was a completely different matter. With Kon's death, Tim had completely lost his mind, willing to do anything to have a piece of his best friend for himself.
Now, Tim was sane. More lucid than ever in his life.
He had fled the cave after Dick decided to take away his mantle, his identity as Robin, his lifeline and the only thing he had remaining.
"You said we would be okay“. Tim's throat was burning, he had been holding back tears for hours. "My whole life has been devastated again!"
"Now he's my responsibility," Dick replied carelessly, "You're not my charge, you'll be fine. But he...Tim, you know better than anyone that if he stays alone he's going to kill someone again". Dick finally left his activity on the cave computer to look him in the eyes. "You have to understand.
"No, I don't understand. Being Robin is all I have right now.
"Oh, are you still there?"
A few steps further, Damian looked at him with mockery in his eyes, wearing a redesigned Robin suit. The bright colors that were supposed to signify hope in the darkness were gone to make way for dull colors, as dim as the future of Gotham without Bruce.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"We're going to have to improve security in the cave, Batman. To keep out the riffraff."
"How can you let him wear that suit, Dick? On what earth do you choose him over me? Our relationship hasn't been the best for years, but you know I'm Robin. You trained me for that!"
"Don't be so sensitive, Drake“. Damian scoffed.
"Damian, shut your mouth."
"I'm sorry, Drake. You're still part of the team...maybe Batgirl's suit will be available!"
Tim couldn't take it anymore, he jumped on Damian and hit him the way he had been wanting to for days.
"My name is Tim Wayne," he yelled between blows.
Dick grabbed his arms and held him against his body, which brought back strange memories of nights many years ago, when he started his career as Robin, and Dick insisted that they should spend more time together as brothers. Ha!
"Tim, get back!
"Hm...I'll let you write down this point Drake...I want you to feel good about yourself. God knows you have no other reason!"
Tim stepped away from Dick.
"You want me to back off? Fine.
After that he had left the cave, and got lost in one of the many corridors of the mansion.
***
Alfred was going to kill him, Tim could already imagine one of the many ways the old butler was going to end his existence by destroying one of the corridors.
He had run into a potted plant, and from there he couldn't stop. Every painting and ornament ended up broken and thrown on the floor next to him. The last thing he broke was an old vase that looked expensive and important. A piece of glass was buried in his hand, and blood ran through his fingers until it slipped down his arm.
"This is not happening". He repeated to himself as he looked at the cut on his hand.
The shattered paintings seemed to stare at him, laughing at him and his misfortune.
One in particular stared back at him, a man in a settler's outfit with a cold, hard as steel look.
Mordecai Wayne.
Tim opened his eyes in surprise.
He knew well that face, that jaw, those eyes. The painting might be old, but the painter had made an effort to immortalize every little detail for a reason.
"It's alive. " he whispered "Bruce is alive“.