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Floccinaucinihilipilification, a word Tim had once seen in a book as he tucked himself away into a corner in the library. The second he saw it he knew he had to learn how to pronounce it. It was a challenge and that excited him. He had dragged out a large dictionary and spent ages as he attempted to dissect the word. His lips moved slightly as he sounded out the unfamiliar combination of letters. He curled up in the plush chair as he grinned. There was a rush of adrenaline that came along with it as it was a mystery he needed to solve. Eventually, when he was so sure he had solved it he crossed the library to the computers. He had to climb onto a chair to see over the top of the tall counter. He knew it must have looked odd, an eleven-year-old boy standing on a chair looking up a word most adults didn’t know existed, but he didn’t care. His heart sunk a bit as he realized his pronunciation was off, but it only made him want to try harder. He whispered the word repeatedly under his breath as he made his way back. As he picked up the dictionary once more he looked closer at the definition of the word. Floccinaucinihilipilification, the action or habit of estimating something as worthless. He didn’t know why, but suddenly he wasn’t as interested in the word, but still he couldn’t help but whisper it under his breath for the next week.
Tim knew it was only a short amount of time before Bruce saw it, and he couldn’t let that happen. He knew that everyone would see it eventually. Their eyes burned into him until they finally realized he wasn’t even worth looking into. Whether it was his parents or nannies, they all eventually saw it. He didn’t even know what ‘it’ was. He tried his hardest around them. He always made sure to clean up after himself and was as polite as he could be, but they all left him. The older he got the more he tried to find out what it was that they saw. He didn’t know which part of himself was what drove them away so instead, he looked at all of it. He looked at the way he talked too much, he was too loud, took up too much space. He started to talk less, started to keep to himself more. Every time his parents came home he was so excited, so sure that now they would love him. He never found out what it was, he was still trying.
All Tim knew was that whatever he did, he couldn’t let Bruce see whatever everyone else saw in him. Being Robin gave him a purpose, gave him a sense of belonging. He knew it was stupid, but every time Bruce smiled at him he felt his head leap. But he knew Bruce thought of him as nothing less than a partner. It had only been a month since he was first let out onto the streets and he still felt as if any minute it could all be stripped away. So he didn’t talk much. Only speaking out when it was relevant for a case or if he was asked a question. He wanted to share all of his ideas that raced around in his head all day long more than anything. There had been a couple of occasions where he had found himself rambling about something, he was quick to cut himself off the second he noticed. Every time Bruce's frown burned into his heart.
He was determined to keep him from finding anything that might make him leave Tim. So when Bruce didn’t notice the blood that dripped down his side he did the only thing he knew how to do, he stayed silent. It was a lucky hit and he hadn’t thought the knife had gone too deep into his side so instead he said nothing. Tim had ducked to the left to avoid the knife but it still ran along his side. He felt pain explode above his hip bone, but he only grit his teeth. He dug out bandages from his belt as he wrapped his side hastily before he covered the white bandages with his dark cape. The ride back to the manor was silent except for the dull roar of the engine. When they arrived, he headed towards the room off to the side to change like he always did. Somehow it seemed so much harder than usual. He needed to get there as fast as he could to get a better look at his side but he couldn’t make a run for it. For a moment he felt as if he was walking too slowly, then too quickly. The whole time he had put all of his energy into not wincing with every step that it didn’t seem to matter much.
When the door swung shut behind him he let out a hiss of pain. Changing out of his suit proved to be a challenge but it was manageable. He knew that as he glanced down that he should go tell Bruce. But Tim knew how careful he was, he couldn’t give Bruce any reason to leave him. The wound was much shallower than he had originally thought anyways. Something he could manage on his own and not have to bother Bruce with. He bit into his lip as he changed the bandages. He lowered his arm slowly so as to not aggravate the injury and decided to clean it properly when he went home. That was assuming that he could get out of the manor and back to his house with no one noticing, which would practically be a miracle.
He got his miracle. Alfred had been insisting on driving him home since he started staying at the manor later. Luckily the older man had been too busy attempting to steer through the downpour that they had just barely dodged to notice how Tim grit his teeth every time the car jolted. He thanked the older man before he hobbled as quickly and as inconspicuously as he could towards the house. It was one of the few times that he was content with being alone. Sure, he still longed for his parents to be there with him, even if it meant getting scolded for any small thing. At least they would be there. And sure, his heart lept on the two days when Mrs. Mac would come over to make food and clean. Even if she had come while he was at school, it was still nice to know that there was someone who had looked out for him. But all that aside, if there were people in the house he might have to give up being Robin, and Tim knew that was not an option. He told himself he was alright with the empty, silent house over and over, but it still never made a difference.
For the first two days, Tim didn’t notice anything. Bruce was out of town on a business trip for Wayne Enterprise and he wasn’t allowed to patrol alone. School was a lot easier than he would have thought it to be. He was in health class instead of gym so he got to avoid the exercise he knew would only make it worse. The teachers didn’t notice him much, and he could have just been a ghost to the other kids so there was no one asking questions. Sleep proved to be more difficult. Both nights he stayed awake as he resisted the urge to roll over onto his side. Each morning he woke up more exhausted and in pain than when he had fallen asleep. He was almost positive that he had taken more than the recommended dosage of Ibuprofen by accident a couple of times, but no matter how much he took the pain still lingered. It was only on the third day that he realized he had made a mistake.
He was awoken abruptly to a sharp pain that stabbed into his side. He gasped quietly as he squeezed his eyes tight. The room was still bathed in darkness as he slowly sat himself up before he stumbled to his feet. His legs shook underneath him and it took him a moment before he realized he was shivering. Each shake caused more pain to spread throughout his torso. He flipped on the light before he turned it back off quickly. The bright light burned into his eyes seared into his head. It felt as if his head was being forced into two. He took a shaky breath before he turned the light back on, he forced the pain down as he stood in front of the mirror. Slowly he pulled back the bandages to look at the wound underneath and his heart dropped.
The bandage had been completely soaked in what Tim first thought was blood but he soon realized it was drainage. Yellow, thick, drainage coated the bandage and it smelled something horrible. The redness he had seen around the cut had grown until it completely surrounded it and spread out for an inch. The cut that had once seemed small seemed so much bigger. Tim reached down slowly to the bandages he had kept in his bathroom. He sat down onto the cold tile as he continued to shake slightly. The more he pulled away the dressing, the worse it looked. He was so sure that it hadn’t looked like that the day before. It had been warm and there was red around the area but nothing like it was then. Tim slowly went down the list of things he had put off as normal for the past few days and rested his head gently against the wall. Hot, pulsing heat ran through him, but it only chilled him further.
He bit his lip as he slowly lowered a new bandage onto the wound. Immediately he cried out in pain. Everything burned as if he had been branded and he yanked his hand back. He took a second to calm his breathing before he placed the dressing onto his side. The sterile white cloth covered more than it needed to but Tim was done taking chances. His hands shook as they gently applied the medical tape to the edges. Everything seemed to ache, his neck protested harshly as he leaned against the wall. His head throbbed and his mouth felt dry. He lay on the floor for a moment more before he shifted his weight onto the left side. Slowly he pushed himself up and back onto his feet. The light from the bathroom illuminated the once dark room faintly. His head pulsed with pain as he squinted at his phone. It was still early in the morning and every part of him felt exhausted. So he collapsed on the bed and slowly but surely drifted off to sleep.
It wasn’t rare for Bruce to wonder about the boy who had practically forced himself into the position he swore he would never give to anyone again. Tim was almost a bit of a mystery. Bruce could tell that he wanted to speak. So often he would see the glimmer in his eye as he chewed on his lip lightly. Dick had been in mourning when he first came to the manor and had been quiet at first, but had soon warmed up to them. But even after months, Tim wasn’t entirely comfortable yet. He could have just assumed that he was just naturally quiet but he had seen Tim slip up too many times. There were rare occasions when Tim would start talking. When he opened his mouth to speak about a case or something he learned in school there were times that he seemed like he would never stop. He spoke enthusiastically about the subject and with such passion that it always shocked Bruce. But every time Tims eyes would widen in panic before he would clamp his mouth shut, only giving simple answers for the next hour or so. Bruce couldn’t help but notice the similarities to when Jason had first come to the manor. He had acted like simply speaking would get him thrown out. Like he would say something wrong at any moment and anger Bruce.
It wasn’t rare for Bruce to wonder about Tim, but this time it was different. Bruce could count on a hand the number of times that for some reason or another, besides Tim’s parents being in town, that he had missed coming to the manor. So after two hours of waiting for the boy, it became clear that he wasn’t coming. Bruce began to worry. He had been out of town for four days and had no contact with the boy for the whole time. Every moment he spent with him he was worried that he was going to overstep a boundary. Tim wasn’t another kid he needed to take in. He had a home and even if his parents weren’t there for him he had a caretaker who lived with him. Or at least he thought there was one. Tim had spoken about Mrs. Mac before, but he never asked how often she was there. He just sort of assumed she lived there full time, after all, who would leave a thirteen-year-old alone for weeks in Gotham of all places.
He waited two hours to call. Bruce knew that he made the boy uncomfortable, it was clear in the way that he seemed terrified to speak to him about things he loved. Although he seemed to do the same with everyone, Bruce knew his anxiety was heightened around him. He didn’t want to scare the boy if he had gotten caught up with things after school but after five unread texts, Bruce was beginning to panic. Nothing about the situation seemed like Tim and with every moment that passed, it became more prevalent that something was wrong. At the beginning of Tim’s training Bruce had asked if he could put a tracker on Tim’s phone. It hadn’t been much of a request but he still felt the need to ask. He had hoped the day would never come where he needed to use it but he had no other choice.
“Alfred, I’m going to find Tim,” Bruce called out as he made his way quickly through the house. He paused as the older man walked with him to the garage. Concern was clear on his face.
“Still no word?”
“No,” Bruce confirmed as he opened the door. “He’s at his house though. I’m going to go check on him,”
Alfred nodded and Bruce quickly turned to leave. He knew that Tim was his neighbor but still the drive seemed too long. Every possible situation ran through his head as he raced down the abandoned road. He couldn’t help but think of Jason's beaten and bloodied body. He hadn’t been there for a son once and he knew he couldn’t make that mistake again. Bruce was shocked at how easy it was to think of Tim as a son, but he quickly shook the thought away. Tim already had a family, he didn’t need Bruce as well.
As Bruce screeched to a halt he was taken aback by how abandoned the place looked. The thick blanket of clouds made it seem like not a single ray of sun had slipped through, but still, there were no lights on in the house. There were no cars in the driveway and it didn’t seem as if there had been any for days. If he hadn’t known that Tim’s phone was in the house he wouldn’t have known that there was anyone in there, to begin with. But as he stared at the house he began to wonder if Tim was even there after all. Maybe he had forgotten his phone or been taken before he could grab it. It seemed more likely than not that Tim wasn’t home, but Bruce knew he still had to check.
It didn’t take long for him to disable the security and within moments he was inside the house. It was at that moment that Bruce realized he had never actually been inside the Drake manor before. The hallways appeared to be more of a museum than a house. It felt impersonal and there was not a sign of life anywhere he turned. The further he made it into the house he realized that even if Tim was at home there was no way there was another adult with him. School had been out for hours and he found it highly unlikely that they would not have arrived yet. He crept through the hallways, careful not to make a sound as he glanced down to his phone occasionally. His eyes scanned his surroundings carefully as he climbed the stairs. He came to a halt at the end of the hallway. A wooden door blocked his path to Tim, or at least his phone. He took a deep breath before he opened the door slowly.
The sight that met his eyes made his heart drop. Bruce quickly ran towards the bed as he stared down at the boy in horror. Tim was huddled under a large mound of blankets. His hair clung to his face with sweat as he shook violently. He carefully shifted the blankets off of the boy as he knelt on the bed next to him. Bruce pressed his hand against his face before he pulled it back quickly. His forehead was much hotter than it should have been and Bruce didn’t need a thermometer to tell he had a fever and a severe one at that. His eyes scanned around the room as his concern grew. On the floor beside his bed was a pile of glass that sat in a puddle of water. On the bedside table, there was an opened first aid kit. The dressing and bandages strew haphazardly around. He gently held the boy’s flushed face in his hand as he looked at him for another moment.
“Tim?” Bruce asked softly as the boys fluttered gently open. He squinted up at him and groaned slightly. His eyes slid slightly out of focus as he looked up at Bruce.
“Dad?” He croaked out. His voice rough and Bruce's attention was drawn towards how chapped his lips were. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there without water.
“No, It’s Bruce,” He said awkwardly as he brushed the long strands of hair out of the boy's face.
“Why’re you here?” Tim blinked his eyes rapidly as he stared up at Bruce in confusion.
“You missed our training today, so I came to check on you,”
“Why?” Bruce was a little taken back by the question as Tim continued to stare up at him. He acted as if Bruce's response made no sense or provided no explanation. He paused as he thought through every facet of the question before he responded.
“Because I was worried,”
“Oh,” His voice seemed small as he curled in on himself. Bruce was forcibly reminded about how small the boy was. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to work,”
“Tim, you are most definitely not ok,” He said sternly. Tim only shrunk in on himself more, his eyes moved to anywhere that wasn’t Bruce before he stared down at the blankets in front of him. Bruce took a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself and the boy before he continued. “You have a very high fever and you need help. Can you sit up for me? You need some water,”
His eyes scanned the room for something to put the water in before he spotted one of the many empty mugs Tim used for coffee. Neither Alfred nor him were entirely pleased about his coffee consumption, but seeing as they weren’t his caretaker there wasn’t much they could do. He carefully stepped off the bed as he grabbed the mug before he headed into the bathroom. He could hear the blankets as they shifted slightly before Tim let out a sharp cry of pain. The cup half full of water lay forgotten on the counter as Bruce rushed across the room back to Tim. He was sitting more upright than he had before but he hesitantly held his side. His fingers rested just above it as if his instincts told him to hold it but he knew it would cause more pain. He panicked slightly as he mentally went through the list of fever symptoms. If Tim had pain in his stomach that meant that he was much worse than Bruce had originally thought.
“Tim what’s wrong?” Tim’s eyes widened as he moved his hand away quickly like he had been caught.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” He lied through clenched teeth. His eyes once again focused on something that wasn’t Bruce.
“Can I see your side? I need to make sure everything is ok,” Tim shook slightly as he spoke. Bruce had rarely seen him scared. He saw him scared the first time he had a gun trained on him or before his final test to see if he was fit to go on patrol. But none of that measured up to the fear that was visible on his face.
“Nothing is wrong,”
“Tim,” He winced internally at his harsh tone as a tear trailed down Tim’s cheek. His hands shook as he reached down to the hem of his shirt. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. He didn’t think that pain from a fever could cause visible marks but he still had to check. But whatever he was expecting went out the window as he stared down in shock.
Just above the boy's hip bone was a large bandage. Medical tape plastered the edges to his skin. The cloth was almost fully soaked through and it was clear it hadn’t been changed in a while. Bruce carefully tucked his fingers underneath the tape and began to pull back. On his side was a large laceration. The edges seemed to have pulled away from where they originally were and had caused it to become much bigger than it was originally. Yellow discharge crusted the edges as it coated the bandage. The skin around the area had become red and inflamed. Red streaks ran out from the injury and spread across the swollen skin. Tears ran down Tim’s face as he shook harder.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered so softly that Bruce almost didn’t hear him.
“Tim what happened?” Tim’s hands rolled into fists and Bruce could see as his nails dug into his skin in an attempt to stop the tears. Bruce felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared down at him. “Tim, did that happen when you were with me?”
“I’m sorry,” He whispered again. Bruce stared at him in shock for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair.
“When?”
“Wednesday,” Tears poured down his face harder as he slowly shifted away from Bruce.
“Wednesday? That was five days ago, Tim!” Tim pulled his knee up to his chest, careful to keep his right leg extended as to not aggravate the wound further. His shoulders curled around him as closed his eyes tightly.
“I know I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He cut himself off with a shaky breath. “Please don’t leave me,”
Bruce froze as his words sunk in. His mouth hung, slightly parted as he widened. He wanted to say something, to say anything but he didn’t know what to say. He had dealt with issues of abandonment in both of his sons but he never thought it would be something Tim would struggle with. He had other people in his life and wasn’t reliant on Bruce. However, his mind reminded him of how empty the place looked and he found himself wondering if he was the only adult Tim had in his life.
“Tim,” He began hesitantly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay right here ok?”
“Please I’m sorry. I’ll do better just please don’t leave me,” He begged as Bruce felt his heart break. He thought about Jack and Janet who were off traveling the world somewhere and he had never wanted to punch them more than he did at that moment.
“What do you think you did that would make me leave you,” He asked cautiously. Dick and Jason were so different that he had to learn early on that neither of them would react the same to a situation. While they both feared him leaving them; Dick was more scared to be sent back to juvenile hall and Jason was afraid of Bruce deciding he wasn’t good enough to keep around. He usually didn’t have to ask what they were really afraid of, but Tim was still somewhat of a mystery.
“I lied to you, cried in front of you, and I made you come out here to take care of me,” Tim whispered as his face became covered by his arms that were tightly wrapped around his knee.
“Tim above all else I’m just upset that you felt as if you couldn’t tell me you were hurt,” Realization flashed across Tim’s face as he nodded slowly.
“Oh, it makes sense,” Bruce watched as Tim nodded slowly to himself.
“What makes sense?” He asked hesitantly as the boy sniffled quietly. He blinked his tears away quickly as he attempted to stop them from falling.
“Well I’ve always been wondering what about me made people leave, but now I know,”
“What?” Bruce asked as he back-peddled quickly. “Tim I’m not going to leave you,” Tim’s head shot up as he looked at Bruce confused.
“But-”
“No buts,” he interrupted. He paused for a second more before he spoke. “Tim, how often does Mrs. Mac come?”
“She used to come every day but now she comes about two days a week to cook and clean. She often comes when I’m at school. Why?” Bruce inhaled deeply as Tim looked over at him in confusion. His head peaked out from his arms slightly.
“I’m going to take you back to the manor, ok? I’ll call Mrs. Mac to tell her that you won’t be staying at this house for a while,” Bruce stood up slowly and Tim continued to stare at him. His eyes met Bruces again and he felt a small rush of relief.
“Why? I can take care of myself. My mom says that I’m more mature than other kids so I don’t need someone to hover over me,” He said slowly as if he didn’t quite believe the words he was saying. Bruce crossed over to the other side of the bed Tim was on the edge of in his desperate attempt to get further away from him.
“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to. Can I pick you up?” Tim looked up to Bruce in shock as he studied him for a moment before he nodded shyly. “This is going to hurt, tell me if you need to pause for a moment ok?”
Bruce slipped one arm underneath Tim’s legs as he gently held his back with the other. As he raised the boy into the air he could hear him hiss in pain, but he said nothing. Slowly, they made their way through the house. Tim rested his head against Bruce's chest and he felt a wave of joy wash over him, something he hadn’t felt since Jason died. He knew that Tim wasn’t his and that he still had a family, but clearly they couldn’t see what a joy he was. He knew that there were a lot of things Tim needed to work through, but he knew he would be there with him every step along the way. He was willing to do anything to prove to him he wasn’t worthless.