Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Technically, Tim had the week off. Bruce had temporarily pulled all of his current cases, and Dick had even gone as far as to hide his Red Robin suit. 

Their reason for punishing him? They claimed Tim needed rest.

Which, fine, Tim had been running off of two hours of sleep this week, and he was prone to not eating for days at a time. Which had led to a few mistakes in the field and him passing out during a conversation with Dick, but really ? They had to take everything from him? He couldn’t even go on a short patrol?

Any arguments he had offered had been shot down as Bruce and Dick teamed up and confiscated all of his work “for his own good.” They “didn’t want him to hurt himself” and wanted him to “get a good night’s rest.” Please, as if Tim could sleep through the night if he wanted to, with nightmares and insomnia forcing him to stay awake and keeping his mind occupied until he collapsed.

All of this to say, Tim was laying in bed bored out of his mind and too awake for sleep to come anytime soon.

This state of boredom hadn’t happened to him for years. He always had a case to finish, and he usually hung out with Kon when he had free time. When he was benched for injuries, Alfred usually spiked his food, so he didn’t have to question every aspect of his life before sleep came. Even before he was made Robin, he went out at night and tired himself out before bed, and—oh . 

Wasn’t that an idea.

He turned his head to the closet where his camera had been buried for the past few years. Maybe he could make use of this cruel punishment.

Eleven o’clock found him perched on the edge of a building, following Jason from a distance. Afterall, he had been the main focus of most of Tim’s pictures when he was younger, so it seemed like a good place to start.

So far the night had gone pretty slow, and he was starting to get disheartened. He’d gotten a few pictures, mostly of Jason jumping between buildings and scanning the streets, but nothing that stuck out to him. He wanted something more.

His favorite picture of Jason was one he’d taken when Jason was just starting out. In it, Batman and Robin were standing on a roof together, and Robin was looking up at his mentor with a look of childlike happiness taking over his face and seeping into his body language. Batman’s soft expression in return could be seen even to one who had not mastered how to read the brooding man.

It was so peaceful and simple. A clear image of what Robin meant. He was a symbol of childishness and carefree joy in a world of darkness and violence.

But Jason had changed, and Tim wanted a picture that would communicate what he was now. Jason standing on rooftops or shooting thugs wasn’t what he wanted.

A few buildings away, Jason suddenly dropped into an alley, and Tim scrambled to keep up.

Without his gear and trying to remain unseen, Tim was having a hard time keeping up, but he’d done this as a kid. He could certainly keep up now that he had had training of his own.

Minutes later, he entered the alley from the back side, and when he saw Jason was fighting off several men, he ducked behind a dumpster.

He waited there silently while listening to the fight. It didn’t take long for it to come to an end. 

Hearing Jason mutter vague threats to one of them, followed by a heavy thud, he dared a peak.

From behind the dumpster, Tim laid eyes on the Red Hood. The men he had knocked out were slumped against the ground of the alley. A streetlight from the main street illuminated the mouth of the alley, and Tim saw the perfect opportunity for a picture.

Red Hood stood tall, his broad build silhouetted against the light, guns clearly visible in his hands. With the light blocked by Hood’s head, the colors of the alley were muted, giving off an eerie effect, but one one thing stood out to Tim.

The light behind the hero’s head glowed bright red around the edges of the helmet. It looked like a halo. 

Tim raised his camera and took a picture, smiling.

This was what the second Robin had become. He had become strong and independent. He had faced his fears and overcome them. He saw wrong in the world, and he stopped it. He looked out for the little guy and treated everyone equally. 

He had become an angel to the city of Gotham, and he watched over her with a vicious love.

The first Robin was harder to follow through Gotham. Where Jason had blazed a path wherever he went, Dick flipped and slid along the shadows, blending in, becoming part of the city.

Thankfully, Tim knew him and his route enough to keep up. Dick had been his first Robin, and even if he wasn’t Tim’s Robin, he was still very much Gotham’s Robin.

Heroes and villains alike still addressed him by his original title, treatment only Dick got. For most people, changing their hero name had become a transition that symbolized a big change in their life, and Dick was no exception. But no matter what he went through, no matter how many times he changed his name, Dick was still Robin.

He followed along the rooftops, careful to stay hidden so his older brother wouldn’t notice him and drag him home. When they reached a few streets away from Crime Alley, a scream pierced the air, and the masked vigilante picked up his pace before somersaulting out of sight.

Just like the previous night, Tim scrambled to keep up.

He climbed down the fire escape as quickly as he could, nicking himself on the metal a few times, and dashed towards where his brother had disappeared. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity for the perfect picture. After following Jason the previous night, he was determined to capture exactly who Nightwing was in one picture, and Tim knew what that would look like.

From the day he stepped into the suit, Dick had changed lives. He had made Batman less terrifying and Bruce happier. He had proved to the Justice League that sidekicks could look after themselves, and he had inspired countless heroes and civilians. 

Growing up and his fights with Bruce had changed him, made him more careful and paranoid, made him stronger, a better leader and fighter. However, nothing could take away everything he had come to stand for, both as his hero persona and a person. He was Robin, and a different uniform and city could not take that away.

When he finally approached the narrow side street Nightwing had entered, taking up a position on a nearby roof, it became clear he had missed all the action. There was a middle aged man, unconscious and tied up, leaning against a building. Several feet away, a younger man was holding a toddler while Nightwing knelt in front of him, talking to a little girl who looked about ten.

The man was tense as he watched, probably still on edge from what must have been an attempted mugging, but Nightwing and the young girl seemed to be engaged in a rather animated conversation.

Tim smiled to himself. Dick had always been amazing with kids, something that hung over from his years in the circus. When Tim had patrolled with Dick in his younger years, he had often listened in on these conversations and heard Dick thanking kids for helping or giving them an easy task, like making sure their parents got some sleep when they got home. 

He never made anyone feel inadequate and always made them feel special. Dick gave off the feeling that he always saw the people he was talking to. That’s probably one of the reasons he felt so safe.

Nightwing lifted his head to address the girl’s dad. Still holding the toddler, the man gave a hesitant nod and flashed a shaky smile at the young girl. Nightwing grabbed the girl and grappled to the top of the building directly across from where Tim was. 

Tim crouched in an attempt to stay hidden, but Nightwing’s attention wasn’t on him. He held the girl on one of his hips as he pointed to something in the distance, and Tim knew this was his opportunity.

The building Nightwing was on was taller that the one Tim occupied, so the angle was shot from slightly below. Nightwing held himself in a relaxed manner. Where the Red Hood’s picture had only held one shock of color, the bright blue of Nightwing’s suit and bright smiles of both the girl and vigilante seemed to brighten Gotham’s gloomy sky, turning it from a gray mass to a swirling collage of blues and purples.

It showed Nightwing as a strong, approachable leader. Someone who looked out for everyone and made sure everyone was equal. He brought them up to stand beside him and share his accomplishments. He brightens even the most desolate of places. 

He was Robin.

After the first two nights, it felt wrong to leave out the fourth Robin. Tim and Damian spent most of their time tensely ignoring each other, but Damian was still a Robin. Tim felt obligated to at least try to get a few good shots of him.

Tim followed Damian through the city for two hours before deciding to call it quits. He’d gotten a few good shots of him mid leap or scowling from rooftops, and it wasn’t like he was expecting much. It was his first time following the brat, so he shouldn’t put too much stock into the meaning behind the photos like he’d done for his older siblings. Plus, unlike the last two nights, Tim had no idea what he was looking for.

Jason was vicious justice, Dick was strength and leadership, but Damian? What did the kid know of the honor and responsibility that being a vigilante came with? All he had done so far was steal Tim’s uniform and manage not to kill too many people. In Tim’s mind, there was no meaningful image to capture.

Tim clambered down the fire escape attached to the building he had been perched on, and landed in the muddy alley below. It had started sprinkling out a few minutes ago which had only affirmed Tim’s decision to head home for the night. After all, he didn’t want his camera to get damaged.

He was about twenty feet from the mouth of the alley when he heard a noise and ran for cover. He managed to scramble behind a garbage can and a few planks of wood leaning against the side of the alley and hoped it was enough to hide him from whatever would enter the alley. He was only armed with a taser, something he was now cursing himself for. Hopefully whoever it was would be too drunk or high to notice him, and he could sneak back home in peace.

A few seconds of tense silence and then another noise. Not one from either end of the alley as he had expected. No, the sound came from above .

The Demon Brat swung down into the middle of the alley, and Tim mentally kicked himself. Had he been lazy and given away his position? How long had the kid known he was being followed? Was he going to attack Tim again? Was he finally going to get rid of the competition and finish Tim off? 

But the kid wasn’t even looking in his direction. He had angled himself away from Tim, and was crouched on the ground facing the wall on the opposite side of the alley. Tim could hear him making quiet noises, but couldn’t make out any words from where he was hidden. Was he praying or something? Was Tim going to be some sacrifice? Tim didn’t know of any League traditions like that but that didn’t mean he’d rule it out.

Tim waited for several minutes, his legs beginning to cramp in the tight space as he waited for the brat to turn on him or leave or something , but as time went on, it seemed that neither of them were leaving anytime soon. Was the kid trying to wait him out? But that didn’t make sense, why would he leave his back towards Tim?

A quiet chuckle interrupted his thoughts, and Tim stiffened. That laugh sounded entirely too much like his grandfather’s for Tim’s comfort, and oh god, this was it . The kid was going to murdur him and leave him in an alley where no one would find his body.

Damian turned slowly, sinking into his crouch until he sat with his back against the filthy wall of the alley. From this position it was easy to see the kitten cradled in his hands.

Another kitten rounded his knee and struggled up his armor until it tumbled into his lap. Damian let out another soft chuckle, and Tim felt his own smile tug at his lips as he relaxed slightly.

He probably wasn’t getting murdered, and based on how open Damian was being with his emotions, he didn’t even know Tim was there.

More cats came out from their hiding places in the alley, and soon, Damian was covered in a small army of cats, all demanding to be pet. The collective noise of the cats moving around and meowing grew, and Tim took his chance, hoping the sound would cover the noise of the shutter on his camera. He snapped a picture.

The photo was taken from between two planks of wood, so the edges were seen around the edges of the picture. It showed Robin, sitting in the alley smiling as he was climbed on and buried beneath a pile of alley cats.

There wasn’t anything objectively artful or perfectly laid out like the other two pictures. Those were objectively well staged with dramatic lighting and such. They were lucky shots.

This was special for a whole different reason. It showed a side of Damian that he didn’t show anyone. Even Dick had a hard time getting his youngest brother to even relax, let alone show such strong and real emotion where others could see it. Damian was happy, something Tim didn’t think would ever happen, and Tim had captured that moment. It was his now, his smiling little brother.

Even if he and Damian were never close, this picture was special beyond all others.

Bruce stopped him in the hall the next day.

“I thought I told you to take the week off and get some rest.” He looked Tim in the eye, his stare full of disappointment.

“I did,” Tim replied, because he technically had. Tim was nothing if not technical. “I haven’t been going out as Red Robin.”

“No, but you’ve been leaving the house. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you coming back with cuts on your hands and mud on your shoes. You know how I feel about fighting out of uniform.”

“I wasn’t fighting,” Tim insisted. Then, sighing because he didn’t feel like having a battle of wills and getting his lying skills tested in the middle of the hallway, he admitted, “I did go out the past few nights, but just to take a few pictures, nothing dangerous.”

Bruce sighed, “Tim, you know how I feel about you wandering Gatham at night.”

Tim did indeed know how Bruce felt about it. They had the discussion multiple times while Tim was trying to convince Bruce to let him be Robin.

“I was careful, B! I was armed and everything, just in case.” He decided not to share that he only had a taser and that it wouldn’t have done much if a whole gang had jumped him. “Besides, I think you might like these pictures.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow.

Tim grabbed three freshly developed photos from his jeans pocket. He’d been trying to smuggle them back into his bedroom from the guest-room-turned-darkroom that Bruce let him use. He handed them to his adopted father.

Bruce took his time studying them while Tim anxiously waited for feedback. 

After several long minutes, Bruce looked up. “There’s only three.”

“What?”

“There’s only pictures of three of my sons. Where’s your’s.”

“I couldn’t take a picture of me. I’m taking the pictures.” Tim was very confused. Of course there wasn’t one of Tim. Why was Bruce asking?

“I now have three amazing photos of my sons, in uniform I might add. That’s not something I get very often. But there is no picture of you, Tim. How do I get a photo like this of you?” Bruce was looking him in the eye again, but this time he had a weird, sincere expression on his face that was making Tim feel defensive.

“I can’t take a picture of me. The point is that you don’t know the picture’s being taken. That way, it’s more realistic. It shows how you are all the time. I can’t get that if I know I’m taking a picture of myself.”

Bruce gave him a small smile. “So I should have Cass get me a picture of my fourth son?”

Tim looked down, his cheeks heating up, and shrugged.

He was suddenly pulled forward into his dad’s arms, Bruce's head gently resting on his. “Thanks for the pictures, Tim. They’re beautiful.” He pulled back so he could look at Tim’s face again. “But I’m going to need the full set.”

Chapter Text

By the end of the week, everyone knew about the photos Tim had taken. While Jason and Damian pretended to be angry at the thought of Tim following them during patrol, they weren’t able to hide how impressed they were by the pictures themselves. Dick, on the other hand, was bouncing around like a puppy, constantly complimenting Tim and showing the pictures to all of his friends. Steph was a little offended that Tim hadn’t gotten a picture of her, but understood that he had been caught before he had gotten to her. Cass had merely smiled and given him a hug, the only approval he needed from her.

Really, this whole thing was going better than Tim had hoped.

Unfortunately for the young photographer, he didn’t know that Bruce was still determined to get a full set. A goal that all of his siblings were now dedicated to fulfilling.

Tim noticed his siblings acting weird, sometimes talking in hushed tones around him, but that wasn’t anything unusual in this family. He figured they all had things going on with their respective teams or something.

Then he caught flashes of uniforms following him or disappearing behind corners on patrol. Again, not too strange. He’d had his family stalk him after a hard mission or nightmares, just so they could make sure he was alive.

It was when he began to hear the quiet sound of a camera shutter that he realized what they were after.

“No,” he ordered during the weekly family meeting in the cave. “You have to stop trying to take pictures of me. It’s distracting and taking time away from your actual patrols.”

“Oh, so not only is he a stalker, but a hypocrite too.” Jason pinned him with a judgemental stare.

“I wasn’t scheduled to patrol when I took those pictures, and none of you noticed me. I wasn’t being distracting. All of you, however, are not making use of your training to even attempt to be discrete.”

Dick pouted at him. “But we just want to get a picture of you, like the ones you took of us.”

“But you’re doing it wrong . The point of the picture is that you don’t know it’s being taken. That way, it captures a completely natural situation and body language. You trying to take pictures of me makes me uncomfortable. I change my body language. You don’t get the picture you’re trying to get.” Tim wasn’t sure they completely understood the point of his pictures.

That was when he felt arms wrap around him from behind, arms he quickly labeled as Cass’s. “Didn’t notice everyone,” she chided.

Tim turned around to face her and gave her a questioning look. She giggled and held up a photograph.

The picture showed both him and Steph, so it must have been taken three days ago when they had last patrolled together. They had been playing tag that night, and Tim had positioned himself on a thin, fragile ledge so that Steph could not reach him without causing one or both of them to fall several stories to the hard pavement below. She had yelled at him for cheating while he had smiled from his perch. 

Tim looked up at Cass for an explanation.

“So young. So much pain. But,” she poked him in the chest with a hard expression on her face, “strong, smart, resourceful, friendly.” Her face softened. “Fun despite anger. Happy despite sadness. Love despite hurt.”

“But—”

Arms wrapped around him from behind, reminding him that the rest of the family was there too. “Tim, you’re so resourceful, and you're better than all of us at using your surroundings to your advantage in a fight. You work your butt off to get all of your cases done, but you don’t blow us off to do so. You loosen up to have fun with us even though we know you have a million other things to do. You’re unbelievably dependable. You have never let anyone in this family down. That is what this picture shows.”

Tim felt himself sinking into Dick’s hold. “But we were just playing tag.”

“Aren’t you always going on about images being gorgeous in their simplicity, small things showing more than just what you see? Same thing applies here, Baby Bird.” Tim couldn’t turn around to glare at Jason, so he settled for rolling his eyes. Cass let out another giggle.

“Thank you.”

Tim had such a clear view of who his brothers were, he often forgot that it went both ways. His family knew him better than anyone else, so if they claimed he was all the things they said, he would believe them.