Archive of Our Own

Tim didn't feel anything from his soulmate until he was seven, where bruises started blooming along his sides and arms all of a sudden, being given to the boy in quick succession and leading him to believe that his soulmate was either younger than him and in a very bad place, or older and training to be a martial artist. He really hoped it was the latter.

The aches and pains became a constant thing, Tim feeling knuckles and canes leaving their imprints upon his soulmate, and him. The boy was pulled aside by his teacher one day, when in the middle of class his head had snapped aside from an invisible blow, his cheek and eye quickly swelling and turning an angry red that would bleed into purple later. She asked him all kinds of questions about the injuries, how frequent they happened and if his parents knew about it.

They didn't, them being in Brazil currently and Tim not wanting to worry them over something that they couldn't do anything about in the first place, but he told his teacher they knew and she let him go, sending him to the school nurse.

Tim's situation was, sadly, not uncommon, kids turning up at school with injuries from their soulmate's being abused, he'd seen an older girl burst into tears during break as her head was yanked back by the hair, some strands being torn out and falling to the floor as she was shaken this way and that, sharing her soulmate's suffering.

When Tim had the kisses of blades scattering across his arms and torso, just after he had gotten somewhat used to the constant bruising, he really wished his soulmate would suffer on his own and leave him out of it.

…

Tim started really hating his soulmate by the time he was eleven, he knew that it wasn't their fault and that whoever was hurting them was probably getting off on the thought that someone else had to share in their pain, but he couldn't help but be angry at them for making him suffer alongside them. His parents had been beside themselves when they found out, being horrified when out of nowhere Tim's arm was twisted back, bones snapping like dry twigs, and he had to explain between sobs that his soulmate was hurt a lot as they drove him to the hospital. They had a long talk with him about hiding injuries, how dangerous it was, especially in a situation like his, and made him promise to seek help when he was hurt, even if it was just a small cut. Tim promised, although he knew he wouldn't be able to keep that promise, seeing as his parents left shortly after to go to France and he really didn't want to call them over every little bruise and broken bone.

Tim started following Batman and Robin, soon after, feeling restless, being kept up half the night by aches and pains that weren't even his own. He had known about their identities since he was small, although Jason Todd was the current Robin, Tim being pretty sure that Dick had become the new vigilante Nightwing, but he had never followed them like this, only keeping up with Batman's crimefighting via the papers and the internet. Now, as his legs burned from cuts that he had done nothing to earn, and with finger-shaped imprints on his wrist that he didn't know the reason for, the boy followed the two heroes across the rooftops, adding skinned knees and twisted ankles to the injuries him and his soulmate carried. It was okay, not like they weren't used to pain.

A small vindictive part of him was also shamefully gleeful at giving his soulmate some pain back, for all that he had made him go through over the years. When a long slice appeared on his forearm, as if in answer to the bruised shoulder Tim had just given them from a botched roll he had done, the boy snorted derisively, patching the wound up with the small first-aid kit he had taken to carrying when the cuts first started appearing. Tim was a bit of an expert in sewing himself back together by now, it honestly made him wonder if he should become a doctor when he was older, but the thought of patching up the same wounds twice when soulmate pairs came in made him sick to his stomach. He wasn't even sure if he ever wanted to meet his other half, he wasn't sure how he would react.

Would he be happy at the opportunity to get them out of whatever terrible situation they were in? Or would he be angry that they had done nothing to get out of it themselves, leaving the both of them to suffer?

Tim didn't really think much about his soulmate, when a few months later, he carried the title of Robin, too preoccupied with keeping Bruce alive and himself in one piece, something that was far harder then it looked from an outside perspective. After all it was far easier to say Robin should have really dodged that blow, than actually be there and keep your nose from getting smashed in.

Dick was a bit perturbed at how unfazed Tim seemed when he came back from patrol with a broken nose that he had set himself.

“You okay there?”, the eighteen-year old asked, Bruce looking up from whatever he had been doing at the computer.

“I'm fine, this isn't my first broken nose. I've already set it, it's fine.”

He was surprised when the Batman came over and actually took his face in his hands, looking the wound over and gently prodding at it.

“You did a good job. Not your first time setting it either, hm?”

Tim shrugged, feeling oddly embarrassed. His soulmate being hurt often somehow felt like a dirty secret that he had to keep, at least with the people who didn't know already.

“You have a lot of scars, too... Is everything alright at your home, Tim? I know your parents aren't home often, but...”, Bruce left the sentence hanging and the boy's eyes snapped to his in surprised shock.

“Wha- No! My parents aren't hurting me! The scars aren't- They're not mine...”

He looked down, feeling deeply ashamed despite having nothing to be ashamed of.

“Soulmate scars, huh? I know the feeling.”

Tim blinked in surprise at Dick, who leaned back in his chair and rolled up his sleeves, revealing large palm-shaped bruises on his wrist and bicep, there was a strange star-shaped scar on his underarm, which Tim assumed was a bullet-wound from his time as Robin until the teen pointed at it.

“Broken arm, the bone punctured the skin. If I find out whoever's hurting her, there's gonna be hell to pay.”, Dick said it with a cheerful grin that made the younger boy shiver.

“Her? How do you know it's a girl?”

Tim sat down next to the older boy, Bruce handing him a wet-wipe to clean the blood off his face. Dick patted his stomach with a grin.

“Period cramps, at least Babs said that's what that was, when I described it to her. She recently got it, meaning she's either younger than me, or a late bloomer.”

Tim blinked, he hadn't thought about the fact that he would share that kind of pain with his soulmate as well, then he snickered.

“If you guys have kids then you're in for hell.”

The older boy punched him in the arm, gently.

“That's why painkillers exist.”

Bruce decided to be helpful and pipe up, then.

“They can't completely block it, though, the woman needs to feel something to be able to push. Fathers routinely faint during the birth of their children because they can't handle the pain, even with painkillers. My father liked to brag about the fact that he didn't.”

Tim couldn't help but giggle, something that made his nose hurt a bit.

“Good luck with that then, Dick.”

The teen pouted.

“Your soulmate could be a girl, too, smart-ass.”

Tim shrugged, he was pretty sure his soulmate was younger than him, so he had at least a few years before he needed to worry about period cramps and even longer before thinking about children.

…

There was something incredibly disconcerting about seeing Bruce receive a soul-wound, simply because it shouldn't be possible to take down Superman and that if it did occur, it meant that some major shit was hitting the fan. So seeing Bruce just crumple in on himself in the middle of training the fledgling Titans, was like watching a mountain fall. Impossible and terrifying.

“Bruce!”, Tim immediately squatted next to the man and took his shoulder, only to see him curl instinctively around a wound in his middle, the edges looking ragged and strange, like they were being spread open.

So whatever hit Clark is still inside his body, some kind of spear or sword maybe?

Tim glanced at his team, Cassie already calling Diana, and Bart having run off to get a first-aid kit, which would do them jack-shit if Clark still had the weapon that had injured him inside him, making the wound impossible to close on their end.

At least it's stopping the bleeding...

Kon looked like he was five seconds off from flying to rescue his father and Tim hastily tugged him down to kneel beside him, not wanting him anywhere near what had hurt the other kryptonian.

“Help me roll him onto his side. Get him into a stable position, so he doesn't choke on his vomit, should he puke.”

Bruce had lost consciousness at this point, making Tim really worry for both him and Clark, depending on the situation that Superman was in, the both of them might very well die here. After all shared injuries meant shared death.

Usually, at least, Tim had a brief flash of Roy Harper's still form, forever asleep in a hospital bed, having fallen into a coma after suffering the same injuries as Jason, but not perishing like him. The running theory was that he might have a second soulmate out there who could wake him. Although if they had fallen into a coma like him, then that seemed terribly unlikely, meaning he would just stay asleep forever and ever, until old age took him, or until someone pulled the plug on the machines keeping him alive.

In the end Tim had Kon carry the unconscious man to the med-bay, secretly glad that whatever had injured Clark was still inside him to stall the bleeding, otherwise they may very well be in danger of bleeding out, Tim being not equipped to handle a wound this large. At least Bruce healed pretty quick as a side effect of his soul-bond with Clark.

Their connection was weird anyway, since Clark was jacked up from the earth's yellow sun, he didn't receive Bruce's injuries the same way a normal person would, just getting bruises and mild swelling when Bruce received flesh-wounds and broken bones. Bruce, on the other hand, got next to zero injuries from Clark, thanks to there not being much of anything that could hurt Superman, what he did get was a boost in healing, meaning he could tank a lot more than a normal person, too. Why their bond worked that way, no one knew, it might just be because Clark wasn't human and Bruce was. The story of how they had found out they were soulmates apparently involved someone punching Bruce in the face and breaking his jaw, something that registered with Clark causing him to run around with a swollen cheek and a dopey grin the week after, although they never divulged who they had teamed up against and who it had been that had broken Bruce's jaw. Tim suspected it had been Clark and that they hadn't actually teamed up against anyone, but that Bruce had just been so obnoxiously paranoid about the invincible alien that was flying around, that he had earned himself a punch in the face from said alien.

In the end, Diana had managed to bring Clark back in one piece, reminding the world to be very afraid of a pissed off Wonder Woman in the process, having descended on the villains that had dared to hurt her boys like a wrathful goddess of war. She'd also brought Dr. Midnight along, to make sure the two wouldn't die once the javelin made of kryptonite had been removed.

“How the hell did someone get their hands on this much kryptonite?”, Cassie had asked, while they'd waited for the surgery to finish, hefting the heavy weapon experimentally, keeping the point well away from Kon, who had shuddered in revulsion as soon as he had seen the thing.

“I don't know, but wanna bet it involves dear old Lex?”, Bart said, poking the dried blood that stuck to the tip of the weapon.

“Don't touch that, you're gonna nick our fingers.”, Cassie scolded, holding the weapon away from her soulmate, who pouted at her.

“But, Casiiieee.”, the boy whined, probably just to annoy her. Bart liked riling the blonde up, because she couldn't retaliate by cuffing him over the head, seeing as she would only hurt herself that way. It was actually how those two had found out they were soulmates, Cassie getting fed up with the red-head's antics about five seconds after meeting him and giving him a slap to the back of the head, only for her to feel the sting, too.

Tim ignored the two of them as they started to bicker, him and Kon being told that Bruce and Clark were okay and would wake up soon. The two boys hurried to the room they were in, only to find both already blinking awake, Bruce reaching across the gap between their beds to take the other man's hand.

“Moron, you almost killed us.”

Clark smiled sheepishly, giving his soulmate's hand a squeeze.

“Sorry, I'll make up for it.”

Bruce huffed.

“You better.”

Tim breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the two of them alive and already back to their usual banter, Kon hurrying over to his dads, having been pretty scared of loosing them.

This could have ended badly.

…

It was kind of funny that Tim ended up finding Dick's soulmate before he did. What was not funny was getting a brick thrown at his face, he idly wondered if his soulmate would be worried about the wound that was now gushing blood down their temple, or if they might be as indifferent to Tim's wounds as Tim was to theirs at this point. To be fair, though, he hadn't put his soulmate through half the shit they had put him through and he hadn't even met them, yet. If it turned out that they were just really accident prone and that had been why they'd gotten hurt so much, then Tim just might strangle the both of them.

As Spoiler fretted over his wounds between babbling apologies, Tim had a small moment of worry over being this apathetic to the pain of someone he was supposed to love, he was pretty sure that hating your soulmate on grounds of them being abused wasn't normal.

“It's fine, don't worry about it.”, he eventually said, taking a disinfectant wipe from his first-aid kit and wiping the blood away, putting a gauze patch on it after, “See, already done.”

The other vigilante stared at him, then gave an awkward nod.

“Oh, uh, okay.... I, um, I should probably go. It was nice meeting you, Robin.”

She made to leave, but stumbled with a squawk as blood started flowing down her leg, said appendage giving in under her weight. Tim hastily caught the girl, before she could fall, slinging her arm around his shoulders.

“Woah, there! Soul-wound?”

She nodded, sucking in slow breaths with the practiced ease of someone who was used to pain, something that did not bode well for her. Tim wondered if she was in a similar situation to him, getting hurt a lot because of their soulmate, as he helped her over to the wall, where she could sit down. The boy knelt next to her, worried about the bloom of red on her purple trousers.

“Can I take a look at that? I don't want you and your soulmate bleeding out because neither of you was able to get first aid.”

She hesitated, and he could see why, the wound was up high on her thigh, letting him take a look would mean pulling down her pants.

“They get shot a lot, usually they get patched up pretty quickly after. I think they might be a cop.”, she said, slowly undoing her belt, “But, uh, just in case their on their own, right now... Jeez this is awkward.”

Tim let out a laugh, feeling the back of his neck burn as she shimmied out of her pants, wincing as the fabric stuck to the wound and she had to tug it down. Tim grimaced when he saw it. That was definitely a bullet wound, at least it seemed like a clean shot through, though the way it kept gushing made him worry that Spoiler's soulmate might be in more trouble than she thought, seeing as they were clearly not stopping whatever they were doing in order to take care of the wound and the way it kept being agitated meant that whoever had received the wound was moving a lot, running away from their assailant, perhaps? Tim really didn't want to think about what might happen to the girl in front of him if whoever had shot her soulmate caught up with them. He'd heard about people just dropping in the middle of a conversation because of their soulmate dying suddenly, although he had never seen it happen, and he really didn't want to see it now.

Tim took a deep breath and started taking care of the entry and exit wounds, knowing that taking care of it on this end would also help Spoiler's soulmate. He disinfected and stitched it shut, putting bandages around it and skillfully ignored the awkward silence between them.

“There... you, uh, you can pull up your pants, now.”

She nodded with a small “Thanks.” and put her trousers back on, getting up painfully slowly, using the wall as support.

Tim frowned as the girl started to hobble away.

“Are you sure you're gonna be okay?”, he asked and she nodded.

“Yeah, don't worry. Like I said, not my first time getting shot via soul-bond. I'll be fine!”

He shrugged.

“If you're sure...”

He startled when his comm crackled to life, Batman's voice sounding over the static.

“Robin, return to the cave. Nghtwing's been shot, nothing major, but he was being stupid about it.”

Tim's mouth dropped open as he heard Dick's voice yell in the background.

“I'm fine! It already stopped bleeding, my soulmate took care of it!”

The thirteen-year old snagged the edge of Spoiler's cape, who whirled around to him unsteadily, a wary tilt to her head.

“Nightwing got shot? Where?”, he asked hoarsely, heart pounding as his mind raced, the girl in front of him stiffening like a board.

“In the leg, like I said, nothing major, although he kept fighting, like a moron and made it worse.”

Dick's voice sounded again, slightly tinny from the way it was being picked up by Bruce's comm.

“You know, that's really rich coming from you, B.”

“Was it the left leg, high up on the thigh, no damage to the artery, but it bled like a bitch because he kept agitating it?”

Tim could hear the excitement in his own voice and saw Spoiler starting to vibrate like a live-wire with hardly contained anticipation.

“Yes... how did you know that?”

Tim grinned and Spoiler threw her hands in the air letting out a wordless yell of triumph, he was pretty sure she would have jumped around in elation if it weren't for her bum leg.

“Robin, who was that? What's going on?”

“Tell N, I just found his soulmate. I'll bring her back to the cave with me, alright?”

He heard Bruce chuckle.

“Yes, bring her. I'm sure Dick would love to get scolded for getting them shot.”

The boy laughed at Dick's exclamation of surprise and gave Spoiler a grin.

“You ready to meet your soulmate?”, he asked, the girl nodding so hard the hood of her cloak flopped back, revealing pretty golden curls that bounced with the movement of her head.

Tim got the girl back to the cave, feeling excitement for his mentor/friend/older brother figure.

Dick and Bruce were already there, the former bouncing on his feet as much as his injury would allow him, their masks were off, something that had Spoiler stop short in her tracks, realizing who it was she was being introduced to.

“Holy shit!”, she squeaked and Tim laughed, before tugging his own domino off, considering this was Dick's soulmate and a vigilante in her own right, it was pretty safe to reveal their identities to her, at least that must have been Bruce's thought process. Either that, or Dick had convinced him.

“Hi, Dick Grayson, although you probably already know that.”, the young man said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Spoiler tugged on her mask uncertainly, before taking a breath and tugging it off, revealing a heart-shaped face, pointy nose and big cornflower-blue eyes that blinked at them with uncertainty.

“Stephanie Brown, er, you can call me Steph?”

Dick grinned, his eyes bright.

“Aww, you got freckles, that's adorable!”

Steph flushed at that, something that made said freckles stand out even more, and smiled shyly.

Bruce interrupted gently, looking between Steph and Dick with a bit of worry tilting his mouth down.

“Stephanie, how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”

Tim winced at that, because he could see what might cause a problem here. Dick was twenty, Steph on the other hand, couldn't be older than fifteen, at the most.

“I'm fourteen, er, my birthday was last month.”, her gaze flickered over to Dick who shifted awkwardly at that, “You're older than me by what? Five years?”

“Six.”, the young man coughed, looking to his father uncertainly.

Bruce sighed, leaning back against the batcomputer's console.

“Well, this obviously means that there need to be some rules in place here.”

Dick sent his father a look.

“I'm obviously not gonna do anything with her until she's old enough. I'm not a weirdo, B.”

The older man chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

“I know, chum. I'm just saying, people could very easily look at this and take it the wrong way. I think it would be best for you to take things slow and keep Stephanie out of the eye of the public until she's at least sixteen. I don't know what your parents are gonna say about this, but they will have to be informed about you and Dick. We'll have to come up with a story, since I assume they don't know about you being Spoiler?”, Bruce raised an eyebrow in that teasing way of a parent that had dealt with rebellious teenagers before and was well accustomed to their antics.

None of them expected the girl to burst into tears at that.

Tim suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with Dick when he'd just started out as Robin, remembered the hand-shaped bruises on his arms and the scar where bone had broken skin, remembered how Dick had told him that he was going to find whoever was hurting his soulmate and punch them for all they'd done.

And as Tim watched, the young man limped over and hugged the blonde girl in understanding, rubbing her back and providing comfort as she stuttered out the story of why she wore the cape, of a drugged out mother that didn't care if her husband let his rage at the world out on their daughter, of being beaten and locked in a closet and having to take care of the woman that was supposed to take care of her, all while walking on eggshells around her father who was a petty criminal that she sought to stop through her alter-ego in a desperate attempt to be free of him.

Tim listened to Steph's story, to the pain and fear and humiliation she went through, listened to her apologize for putting Dick through the same things, Tim listened to Dick soothe her and promise her that they were going to help, that it would be okay, that she had nothing to be sorry for because she was his soulmate and he would endure the worst pain on earth if it meant knowing she was there and alive and real.

Tim listened, and Tim turned around and puked his guts out, trembling and sobbing, feeling like the worst person on earth. Because how could he feel those bruising blows and grips, feel his bones be crushed from punches and kicks, feel the cuts of blades and the burn of heated metal, feel the bite of cold and the pangs of hunger and thirst, how could he feel it all and hate the one receiving it?

How was he so selfish that he felt sorry only for himself, when his soulmate was going through hell on earth day after day, having those wounds inflicted by someone who was supposed to love and cherish them. How could Tim hate someone whom he was supposed to love? Someone who so clearly needed love and affection and all the gentleness in the world?

The boy knelt on the ground, his own sick soaking into his knees, and sobbed, not for himself, for he had done that for years, but he sobbed for the nameless, faceless person on the other side of his soul-bond, he cried his heart out in guilt and sadness. Because by loathing their pain, by throwing away his compassion for them, he had become an abuser himself. Tim had felt gleeful at his own injuries, knowing that his soulmate would feel them, had derived a sick kind of pleasure from knowing the person on the other end would be hurting due to him. As if they didn't have enough pain in their life, as if they deserved to suffer even more than they already did.

God, what had Tim been thinking?!

He flinched away from the warm hand that settled on his shoulder, he was undeserving of Bruce's kindness.

“Tim, what's going on?”

“My-my soulmate-”, he choked, his throat constricting with another sob, “I-I... I'm gonna be the-the best so-soulmate ever, wh-when I find them. Bruce, I-I won't let them hurt e-ever.I-I pro-promise, I'm go-gonna be s-so good to them.”

Bruce pulled him into a side-hug, letting the boy shake and cry against him.

“I know, Tim. I know you will.”

…

Arthur Brown was arrested a few weeks after Spoiler had become Nightwing's sidekick, the two of them thwarting his ill-thought out schemes easily and getting him put behind bars. Crystal Brown would take a bit more work, getting a junkie to drop their addiction was an entirely different beast that was, admittedly, not something that any of them had any knowledge of. Steph assured them that she would be fine and Tim hoped for her sake that she was right.

Steph fit very well at Dick's side, both in and out of costume. When they were Nightwing and Spoiler, then she was an attentive protege, listening to his instructions when training and taking to his more acrobatic fighting-style like a fish to water, she was also scarily good at stealth, a lifetime of avoiding a father that could go off like a bomb at any time making her as silent as a mouse when she wanted to be. Spoiler was good at thrown projectiles, too, having taken to throwing knives as her weapon of choice when she had started out, having no one to train her in martial arts, but being able to train her aim by herself, meaning that once she had the hang of batarangs she was pretty fucking terrifying. She complemented Nightwing's close combat nicely and disoriented their opponents by staying out of sight, silently moving around and throwing pointy things at them so Dick could knock them out. They were quickly becoming quite the duo, Spoiler almost a bit of a boogey-man to Blüdhaven's criminals, having earned herself the nickname of Nightwing's Shadow.

Tim was quite proud of her, the two of them having become fast friends, even if they wouldn't patrol together. Patrol was actually a bit complicated for Steph, her having to take the bus to Blüdhaven in the afternoon and get back in the morning, which meant she only patrolled with Nightwing at the weekends, her having to attend school otherwise. The good thing about it was that it allowed her and Dick to spend time together and get to know each other without Bruce looking over their shoulder all the time. The man meant well, but he could be a bit overbearing. He had pulled quite the face when Dick had told him that Steph would sleep at his place after patrol, in order to take the bus in the morning. His son had given him an unimpressed look at that.

“I'm sleeping on the couch, B. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

When Spoiler had been introduced to the JL, there had been a bit of confusion at first, most assuming she was Tim's soulmate, something that Steph had quickly corrected, simply by telling Dick goodbye as he went on a solo-mission.

“Don't get us killed, Dick!”, she'd waved after him, something that had made the young man laugh.

“I'll try my best, if you do the same.”

“No promises!”

Tim had chuckled at their antics, only to burst into full-blown laughter at the flabbergasted faces of his friends. An age gap of six years wasn't that unusual, fifteen being the largest on record, but it was common for soulmates to find each other when they were both adults, children and teens rarely found their soulmates.

“Wait, she's Dick's soulmate? I thought she was yours!”, Kon exclaimed, pointing at Tim.

Said teen shook his head.

“Nope, she's Dick's soulmate.”

“Lucky you.”, Cassie said, poking the other blonde who agreed enthusiastically.

Bart pouted at his own soulmate.

“Hey, I'm not that bad.”

Cassie snorted and booped him on the nose.

“You are actually the worst. Ever. You're lucky that I love you, because no one else ever would.”

The redhead sent her a Look.

“I don't know if I should be happy that you admitted that you actually love me, or insulted that you basically called me ugly.”

“Try happily insulted, sweetheart.”, she said with a grin, pulling the shorter boy into a hug.

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

…

Tim was far more careful on patrol, now, not wanting his soulmate to endure his pain on top of their own, although things had gotten quieter on that front. Either whoever was hurting his soulmate had calmed down, or they had gotten a lot better at avoiding them. Whatever had happened to cause this shift, Tim was glad for it. Not just for himself, but for his soulmate, he hoped that they were in a safer environment, somewhere they could flourish and become the amazing person that Tim knew they would be.

Things were going well in Gotham, until Bruce got a frantic call from Oliver Queen, the man telling them something that should be impossible.

Roy had woken from his coma.

Tim was stunned when he heard, Roy had been Jason's soulmate, the fact that he was alive at all was an impossibility in itself, him actually waking up and continuing to live, it was unimaginable.

But it had happened, the question being: How?

When Bruce went to speak with him, Dick went along wanting to speak to his friend as well, and where Dick went, Steph followed, and so Bruce decided he might as well take Tim as well.

Tim did not know what he had expected, but the gaunt redheaded man, holding a crying little girl close, was not it.

“Good lord, Bruce, did you bring half of Gotham?”, the man asked, his voice raspy, the dark-haired toddler sniffling in his lap.

Dick stepped forward, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face.

“What you don't recognize me, Roy?”

Roy snorted and wiped the tars off the little girls face with the gentle care of a father.

“Of course I recognize your ugly mug, Dick. I was referring to the brat-brigade.”
Steph was already gearing up for an indignant outburst, but her soulmate pulled her close, with a grin.

“That's Steph, she's my soulmate.”
The man pursed his lips, looked from the young girl, to Dick and then laughed, a wheezing little thing.

“Remember all the shit you gave me about Jay? About liking 'em young? I'm going to throw all of that back in your face, now.”

Dick smiled a wobbly smile.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

The red-head's eyes landed on Tim with a questioning glint. Bruce put a hand on the boy's head, gently mussing his hair.

“This is Tim. He's the new Robin.”

Tim puffed up a bit, wanting to impress the man that had been the soulmate of his idol, but Roy frowned at him instead.

“New Robin, huh? Jay couldn't have taken that well.”

It was like the air in the room froze, it all going cold and sticking inside their throats.

“Roy... Roy, Jay's dead.”

The man looked up at Dick with a confused expression on his face.

“No, he's not. I'm here aren't I?”

Bruce looked ten years older, gripping Tim's shoulder as if to ground himself. Tim put his own hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. He was used to being an anchor for Bruce, it was the role of his Robin.

Dick had been a lighthouse, a cheerful reminder of all the good things in the world, showing Batman the light so he wouldn't be lost in the dark.

Jason had been a compass, keeping Batman on the right path and making sure he didn't veer into the shadows.

Tim, on the other hand, Tim was an anchor, keeping Batman steady, even in the worst storms, weathering them for him, if necessary.

Tim was an anchor, he had seen Bruce at his most volatile and his most vulnerable, he had been there when Dick had still been piecing himself together from his own loss, too far gone to be of help to his father, he had been there when even Clark had been unable to reach Bruce, being sent away with poisonous words that cut the man deeper than kryptonite ever could.

Tim had seen it all, had seen the man's rage when he beat a petty criminal bloody and all that had stopped him from killing the man had been Tim's small body stepping in between him and his victim, Batman's fist stopping inches from the little boy's face, he had seen the despair that enveloped him after, when they had gotten back to the cave and Bruce had hugged him close and wept, apologizing for almost striking him, for losing control, he had wept and wept until he couldn't anymore and Tim, knowing his duty, had coaxed him into the showers and had helped him wash off the blood, getting him into clean clothes and tucking him into bed, slinking back to his own home, after that.

So Tim stood there, giving Bruce his strength, as he had done since he was eleven, and waited for him to croak out the words that rent his heart every time he spoke them.

“Roy... we don't know why you are alive, but.... Jason is dead...”

Tim heard the crack in the man's voice and he smoothly turned and wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking his face into his chest as if he were the one in need of comfort, when in reality he was the one comforting.

“I-I don't... He's alive... I can feel the bond, he's alive.”

Tim looked over his shoulder at the gaunt man that had slept for the past three years and he saw nothing but absolute certainty in his face. It mad him sad.

“Roy...”, Bruce started, there was a fine tremble running through him and Tim tightened his hold, holding the man together with all the strength of a wiry fourteen-year old, “I... I don't know what to say, other than we buried him. He's dead.”

“You're wrong.”, Roy said, not a single doubt in his voice, “I felt the bond snap. When... that day... as I felt the crowbar come down, as I felt the force of the explosion take hold, I felt the bond snap, taking me with it, but... there was this thing, something unnatural that reached out and plunked me back into my body. I woke up just now, the last thing I remember being the snapping and that thing that said stop, not yet, and the first thing I feel is the bond, re-attaching itself. Yes, Bruce, Jay died, but he came back. I am certain of that.”

Dick made a noise, half-pain, half-hope, swaying where he stood. Steph took his hand, lacing their fingers together and he held on tight enough that his knuckles turned white. It was probably painful, but the girl did not show it, her face remaining soft and comforting, cornflower eyes showing nothing but support for her soulmate.

Bruce stopped trembling, going stock-still instead, Tim looked up at the man, watching his face carefully as thoughts flitted through his pale eyes.

“Ra's... it has to be. They probably put him in the Lazarus Pit to use him against me.”

Bruce sounded broken as he said it and Tim felt him lean a bit of his weight on him, as if the knowledge of Jason being denied his rest, was such a heavy burden that he could not bear it alone. Had Tim not been there, he thought Bruce might have crumpled.

“Shit...”, Dick choked, closing his eyes, Steph however looked confused.

“Why, exactly, is that a bad thing?”

Bruce glanced at her, sighing heavily.

“Because they will fill his head with lies and set him loose in Gotham. Jason should have been allowed his rest. I can't believe Ra's would dare to resurrect the dead.”

The blonde girl pursed her lips, eyes narrowing.

“Again: I don't see how this is a bad thing. This was clearly meant to happen, or whatever thing yanks souls out of dying people would have taken Roy when Jay died, not kept him in a coma so he could wake up when his soulmate got resurrected. Also, if you're so worried about the LoA brainwashing him, why not just rescue him now? They can't have done much brainwashing if Roy here woke up just this morning. Hell, we don't even know how functional his brain is, considering he was decaying for a bit before he got plunked into the Pit, he might just be a walking potato for all we know, that they were planning on rehabilitating and making into their little murder machine.”

They stared at Steph, who squirmed in discomfort under the combined disbelief.

“What?”, she asked, slowly pinking and letting out a squeak when Dick picked her up in a hug.

“You are the smartest, prettiest, bestest, ever! I am so lucky you're my soulmate!”

Tim snorted as Steph started to sputter.

“Bestest isn't a word, Dick.”

“It is now!”

Bruce chuckled, running a hand through Tim's hair in a silent signal that he was fine and didn't need his support anymore. The boy still gave him a squeeze, for good measure, and stepped back.

“Dick has a point, that was well-done, Steph.”, the man said, causing the girl to duck her head after her soulmate had put her back on the ground.

Dick clapped his hands, a grin stretching his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

“So, rescue operation?”

Bruce nodded.

“I'll talk to Clark and the others, let them have no chance of spiriting Jay away before we can get to him.”

Roy gave a grim smile.

“You're not going without me. I'm not waiting to get that idiot back, also I'm going to chew him out so bad for dying on us, seriously.”

Dick snorted at that.

“You and everyone else, Roy. Jason's ears are gonna ring when our Titans and the JL are through with him.”

…

It took about half a year, both for them to track down where exactly the League of Assassins was hiding, and for Roy to get back into shape enough that he would be able to come with, something he was determined to do, despite Oliver wanting him to take it slow.

Tim was a bit worried about going, not because he didn't want to, he was going to meet his predecessor whom he had admired greatly, but because he had some serious injuries to his back, some that had been absolute agony to receive and he was pretty sure where from a whip. It had been one of the worst injuries he had gotten from his soulmate in a good while, leaving him to wonder what had happened and why someone would whip their child, seeing as he could only see this as some kind of twisted punishment. He had actually been at the Watchtower when it had happened, having jut returned from a minor mission with the Titans and been called to report in.

He'd been in the middle of a sentence when a tongue of fire had licked up his back and his legs had given out underneath him, voice rising in a shriek. He hadn't actually hit the ground, Kon catching him and helping him kneel as he panted, vision blurring with tears. There had been questions by the others, Bruce coming to his side as well, but before he had been able to say anything, it had happened again, the teen's back arching in an instinctual effort to get away, even though that was impossible. The next half hour had been a blur, Tim clinging to his best friend as he sobbed and howled, blood soaking his tunic and leggings, drenching his cape. Bruce had been there, voice a constant drone of reassurances that had all bled together into one garbled mess. Strangely enough, the wounds hadn't been left alone and sloppily patched up, like they usually were, no, someone had taken the time to stitch them up, Tim being intimately familiar with the tug of a needle and thread, some sort of sedative taking the pain away and leaving only numbness, something else that had never come from his soulmate's end, Tim usually being the one that numbed their pain, that kept their wounds clean and without infection, that stitched them up, not his poor soulmate whose wounds would probably have festered, had they not had Tim to take care of them. It made the boy wonder as he tugged on his, now clean, tunic, if there was maybe someone there, taking care of his soulmate after his punishment, perhaps that someone was also the reason why Tim's soulmate had barely been hurt in the last six months? If that was true, then Tim would give whoever was watching out for them the biggest thank you ever, when he met them.

Tim was nervous when they descended towards the compound where Jason was supposedly held, it wasn't just the bats going either, a good chunk of the Justice League was coming with them, including Roy, who was still a bit gaunt in the cheeks, but was otherwise in good condition.

Steph was basically vibrating with excitement, standing next to Dick, who seemed ready to go, shifting from foot to foot with restlessness. Batman was outwardly calm, but Robin could see his nerves in the tightness of his mouth and the rigid line of his shoulders, some of that tension leeched out of him when Superman put a hand on his shoulder, a silent reminder that he was here, that Bruce wasn't alone, that they would find Jason and bring him home.

Then it was go time and Robin felt calm as he followed Batman through the compound, sweeping the rooms and taking out guards, fighting breaking out all over the place. The building was square-shaped with a central courtyard that was soon turned into a battlefield.

Batman and Robin were holding their own, when a tall man turned to face them, someone that stopped Bruce in his tracks. Tim stared, because that was Jason, definitely Jason, even if he was a lot taller and broader than the fifteen-year old Bruce had buried. Tim was wondering if that was perhaps a side-effect of the Lazarus Pit, when he suddenly had to dodge a swipe from the older teen.

“You did replace me.”, he growled accusingly, eyes glowing an eerie green in the dim light of dawn.

Well, so much for him being a braindead potato...

“Jason... “, Bruce's voice was wavering and Tim risked a glance at him, wondering if the man might cry. Instead he stepped forward and pulled Jason into a hug, interrupting him mid-rant, the teen trailing off in confusion, hands hovering awkwardly, as if unsure whether he should hug back, or push away.

“Little Wing!”, came Dick's yell, the acrobat running over excitedly, his soulmate scampering after him with a curious air.

Bruce stepped back, cheeks suspiciously wet, and Jason, who looked rather befuddled, was enveloped in one of Dick's crushing octopus hugs.

“Oof, hi, Dickface, what's up with the kid in purple?”

Steph puffed up her chest.

“I'm Spoiler.”

“That's the lamest name ever.”

Tim glanced around, the fighting having come to an end, people now peering curiously at the resurrected Jason, who seemed a bit uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

“Oi, asswipe, who allowed you to grow taller than me?!”

The tall teen's face did something very complicated at the archer's call, settling on disbelief in the end as he walked around Dick to stare at his soulmate.

“Roy?... But, I thought you died.”

Roy pulled the taller man into a hug, a soft smile on his face.

“Guess that makes two of us, hm?”

Jason hugged back, then lifted his head, looking around at all the familiar and unfamiliar faces around him, seeming very confused and very vulnerable.

“I... I have no idea what's going on... When I saw the ship, I thought you came for the brat.”

The last part had been addressed to Bruce, who tilted his head in confusion.

“What... brat?”

Jason blinked slowly.

“Uh, your son? Damian? Did Talia not tell you about him?”

There was a beat of silence, in which Bruce's brain seemed to stall, while Tim felt his mouth drop open in shock.

“My what now?”, the man finally managed to choke out.

Under any other circumstances, seeing Bruce this flabbergasted would have been funny, but as it was Tim was too surprised himself to laugh about it.

“Yeah, she said he was made in a lab, so I'm not sure whether he's a clone, or not. He does kinda look like you, but he takes after Talia a lot more if you ask me. He's ten, you could mistake him for seven, though, kid's way too small for his age.”

Jason frowned at his words, seemingly lost in thought, something like anger tugging at his brows, although Tim didn't know him well enough to read him.

“Err, so, should we grab this maybe clone, then? I don't imagine the League treats it's children well.”, Diana piped up, glancing between Bruce, Jason and Clark, who was hovering a few feet away, seemingly doing a sweep of the compound.

Jason downright scowled at the woman's words.

“They don't. Damian was fucking whipped the other day for feeding a stray dog. Kid's been treated awful and- why are you all looking at the replacement like that?”

Tim had gone white as a sheet, all eyes going to him, his back giving a twinge as he remembered the pain of the whip coming down, he couldn't even imagine a ten-year old enduring that. Ten. The more he thought about it the more awful every single hurt the other boy had suffered became. He had thought that his soulmate might be younger than him, but he had thought two years, at the most, not four. Tim had been seven when he had first been hurt, that meant- that meant-

“He was three...”, he choked, the boy's voice cracking on the number, horror freezing the blood in his veins, “He was three when the beatings started... he was three when the cuts were starting, were- were they training him in bladework? I- He broke bones, so many broken bones and he- he was three- I can't-”

Tim clapped a hand over his mouth, squeezing his wet eyes shut. Disgust churning in his stomach, both at the people that had beaten a fucking toddler bad enough he shattered bones, and at himself for hating a young boy that had never known kindness in his life, for enjoying inflicting pain on a child that had been tortured from the moment he could walk. Because training at such a young age was nothing but torture, young children weren't meant to fight, their bodies weren't meant for the kind of physical conditioning that adults could do. Hell, Bruce was extremely careful in his and Steph's training, so as not to stunt their growth or give them any kind of physical handicap that they might carry for the rest of their life.

Jason said he's very short, is it from training? Malnourishment? A combination of both? Will he even be able to grow normally, going forward?

Ra's and Talia clearly hadn't cared about that, treating Damian like a weapon, an object, to be honed for combat. Tim didn't even want to think of the psychological damage the boy had suffered, didn't want to think about what growing up like this might do to a person.

He was whipped for feeding a stray dog... how did he keep any scrap of kindness in an environment like this? How did he keep his compassion, for animals even, when I lost mine for another human being? When I lost part of my humanity just from the pain, without the context of it all, how did he keep his?

Tim shuddered in shame and admiration, a strange mixture that was making him dizzy. But it was true he admired the boy for being so strong as to remain kind, and he felt shame for his own pettiness in the face of his suffering.

“Tim... are you alright?”

The teen lifted his head out of his hands, tears clumping his eyelashes together as he blinked.

“I-... I just...”, he couldn't finish the sentence, too overwhelmed and Bruce set a hand on his head, gently mussing his hair, grounding him like Tim had done for him so many times.

“Jason has gone to get Damian from his room. You'll get to meet him... we both will.”

The boy nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks. This would be a big moment for both of them.

When Jason came back with a boy clinging to him, Tim's first thought was: He's tiny.

His second thought was: He's definitely Bruce's kid.

There was absolutely no mistaking that suspicious glare. The boy had Bruce's eyebrows and nose, Tim already able to make out the man's strong jaw even hidden underneath a, worryingly thin, layer of baby-fat, his hair was black, like Bruce's, but the soft curl to it was probably from Talia, as was the boy's dusky skin-tone and his almond-shaped eyes, his irises the color of moss in spring instead of Bruce's icy blue.

Damian's face brightened a bit when he spotted his... father? Genetic donor? Father was probably better, showing a child-like curiosity that Tim was glad to see hadn't been snuffed out.

Jason set the boy down gently, careful not to touch his back, and Tim was once again struck by how small the boy was, by how painfully wrong the muscle definition of his arms looked, by the awkward way he carried himself when walking.

Something definitely went wrong with his growth there, either the harsh training, or an injury interfering... I wonder if it can be fixed with time and a more healthy life-style...

Tim swallowed, heart constricting as he saw the boy cautiously approach his father, Bruce crouching down to his level, a terribly sad, yet loving expression on his face, Damian having already stolen the man's heart with his sad eyes and the pain Bruce knew the child carried, had seen painted across Tim's skin in silvery scars.

“Father, Jason has informed me that we shall be living with you from now on.”, the boy's words were painfully formal, he was clearly imitating somebody else's speech pattern in order to sound more grown-up, which Tim found unbearably cute, the way his accent curled around the words sounded lovely, too, and he could already see himself listening to the other boy talk for hours, enraptured by every word he said.

The little bit of warmth in Tim's heart was doused again, when Bruce reached out slowly, the small boy flinching, bracing himself for a blow, only to blink at his father in terrible confusion, when his cheek was cupped, Bruce's thumb running over his skin in a gesture of affection that was so clearly, painfully, foreign to the boy, it made Tim want to cry again.

The best soulmate, I'll be the very best. I'll give him all the hugs and make sure he's never hungry, or thirsty, or cold again, and I'll be so gentle, he'll never be hurt ever again...

Tim had missed the conversation between the two, but Damian was hiccuping softly, nodding as tears rolled down his cheeks a smile stretching his face in a way that made it painfully obvious that the boy wasn't used to smiling. And how sad was it that a ten-year old child didn't know how to smile?

Tim would make him smile, he promised to himself, he would make him smile until it came easy to him, until Damian was known for his joy, instead of his pain. He would do whatever it took.

The boy slowly walked to the pair of them, crouching in front of the younger boy, his back twinging slightly with the movement, both children giving identical winces, something that Damian caught immediately.

“You're hurt...”, he said, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Tim gave a wobbly smile and nod.

“Yeah, on my back... you're hurt there, too, right?”

The younger boy nodded, lips parting in surprise.

“Are... are you my soulmate?”, he asked, accent thickening as hope took root in his heart.

Tim swallowed and nodded, taking off his glove and rolling up his sleeve, showing off the scars there.

“Yes, I think so...”

Damian hastily tugged up his own sleeve, holding out his arm to compare, the scars were identical.

“Oh...”, the little boy breathed, then his face crumpled and he looked horrified, “I-I hurt you... so much. You must hate me.”

Tim almost laughed, because he had, for a time, and wasn't he a disgusting scumbag for that?, but he didn't, not anymore. He couldn't, not if he wanted to stay human and not become a monster.

“I don't hate you. I could never. You're my soulmate, I'm meant to love you. We were literally made for each other, one soul, two bodies.”, he reached out, carefully, slowly, and let his knuckles brush over the boy's cheek in a soft caress, heart melting when, after an initial start, Damian leaned into it, eyelids fluttering, “I was angry for a while, I will not deny it, but I realized how awful that was of me and I gladly took on your pain. If I could take on your pain and make it solely mine, then I would, because you've endured more then enough, Damian. You don't have to hurt anymore, I promise.”

The little boy sniffled and shook his head, as if to deny, but he clearly was too overwhelmed by what was happening to find any words.

“I hate to interrupt, but we may want to get out of here.”, Diana piped up, hovering above them and pointing at something in the distance, probably reinforcements.

Bruce nodded and held out his hand to Damian, who took it after a moment's hesitation. Jason didn't get a choice, his soulmate looping an arm around his shoulders and dragging him along, the two bickering the entire way. Tim smiled, their dynamic reminding him a bit of Bart and Cassie, although thee was a gentleness to the two men's teasing, a deep-rooted love and respect, that his friends yet lacked. Tim followed, walking next to Steph, who was more skipping than she was walking.

“This went great! I was worried when Jason popped up that he was gonna deck you for stealing his mantle, or something, but he seemed way more chill than I'd thought.”, she said as they approached the ship. Tim swallowed, stomach sinking.

That might be a problem.

…

Turns out that Jason was kind of pissed at Bruce for “replacing” him, sniping at the man whenever patrol came up, making comments that clearly hurt him, in more ways than one, but Bruce did not want to speak up, not wanting to fight with the son he had just gotten back, and endured the painful words that were hurled at him like missiles.

Tim would not stand for it.

“Jason.”, the boy said, having found the teen out on the porch, smoking, after he had just ended another of his angry tirades against his father, accusing him of not caring about his death. Tim had seen how the words had beaten on his mentor, had exchanged a glance with a frowning Clark, who had drawn his soulmate into an embrace as soon as the incensed teen had stormed out, a silent exchange going on between the two that the man would take care of Bruce while Tim tried to reach Jason.

“What do you want, replacement?”, the older boy spat, blowing smoke at him.

Tim did not care for that in the least, snatching the cigarette and stomping it out. The young man snarled turning towards him and the boy lifted his head, daring him to hurt him, and in extension Damian, over something as stupid as this. Jason huffed and turned away again, opting to ignore him.

That was fine with Tim, he only needed Jason to listen anyway, he sat down next to him, looking out over the manor grounds

“You were my idol, you know? Sure, I figured out who you guys were thanks to Dick, but I was really small then and I didn't really start admiring Batman and Robin until it was your turn to fly, so you were my Robin, and I admired you so much... Honestly, looking back, I had huge kiddie-crush on you. “, he laughed as the older teen raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, Tim tucked his legs up against his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his chin on top, cheeks burning in mild embarrassment, “I did... and then you died. It hurt, you know? But what hurt more was seeing what it did to Bruce. Batman... changed. He became more brutal, more unhinged. He beat criminals to a point where they and their soulmates had to be hospitalized. It was all over the news. Batman going too far, almost killing a pregnant woman and her babe because her husband had tried to break into a store, wanting to steal what they couldn't afford. Don't worry her and her baby survived, the man's bail being paid by an anonymous donor, but it was scary. Not just for me, but for Bruce as well. You were his compass and then you were gone, he didn't know where he was anymore... I stepped in, trying to get Dick to be Robin again, but he was grieving himself, he wouldn't have been able to provide the steadiness that Bruce needed, and he was a vigilante in his own right, there was no way he would be able to step back into Batman's shadow. So, I decided to become Robin, not because I wanted to take from you, or because I wanted to be a vigilante, but because I saw that Batman needed a Robin, or he would fall.”

Jason let out a slow breath next to him, running a hand over his short, spiky hair.

“I didn't know he was that angry...”

Tim didn't look at him, lost in visions of the past.

“It wasn't just anger. That was almost easy to deal with. Bruce wouldn't hurt me, would never dare to strike a child, so when I saw he was going too far, then I would step between him and whoever he was wailing on. It would stop him in his tracks, he never hurt me, not once, even if it was a close thing here and there, but it was the aftermath that was hard.”, Tim swallowed thickly, he hadn't tucked Bruce into bed just once, the man often falling into melancholic states that bordered on catatonia, “There's something terrible about seeing your hero crumble. Batman was such a pillar of strength to me, that seeing him weep was almost too painful to bear. He was hurting so much and I didn't know how to help. I did my best, I was his anchor, and he slowly started to heal. What you are seeing now is the work of years, me, Dick and Clark all working together to bring Bruce back from the brink. You think that your death didn't hurt him, but Jason, it almost destroyed him... I'm pretty sure that if it hadn't meant killing Clark as well, than he would have gone to Gotham bridge and jumped after your funeral. It was bad, Jay.”

Tim felt tears rise in his eyes, having never really spoken to anyone about this. Tim had been Bruce's anchor, but there had been no-one there to be his. Until this day he had no idea how he had found the strength to go back to the cave each night, during that first year where it had just been him holding Bruce together.

The boy flinched when he was pulled into a side-hug, Jason smelling like smoke and ashes.

“I... fucking hell, kid...”

Tim shivered and tucked his face against the older teen's chest, his tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

“Just... try to be more mindful with what you say? You're making a lot of assumptions and you're hurting Bruce a lot. Maybe speak to him, really talk, and don't just get angry at him for making me Robin. He needed me, but that doesn't mean he loved you any less.”

Jason sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

“It's just... hard, not to get angry. When I came back I felt nothing but anger and it's so easy to give in to that constant thrum of rage in the back of my mind. I know I'm hurting Bruce, and I feel like shit about it, but I just can't stop it. It's like some kind of beast came back with me, everything going green when the anger takes over... I can't control it a-and....”, he stopped and Tim peered up at him cautiously, to see him take deep shuddering breaths as if he were in pain, “And it scares me. What if I hurt someone when I'm like that?”

The younger boy pressed a bit closer, doing what he knew how to do very well: give comfort.

“You won't... you're a good person, Jay. You won't hurt anyone.”

Jason snorted and disentangled himself from Tim, ruffling his fluffy hair and making it stick up in every direction.

“Yeah, alright... thanks, kid. I guess I should talk to my old man, huh?”

The younger teen nodded with a smile, watching the tall teen lumber away, his hands tugging at his shirt awkwardly. He knew that that would be an uncomfortable conversation, but it was highly necessary. Tim turned back to the setting sun, enjoying the last rays of sunlight, letting the tears dry on his cheeks. Soft footsteps alerted him to another presence and he opened his eyes only to see Damian shyly peeking at him from the doorway.

Tim felt his heart bloom with warmth and he smiled softly, waving at the child, who, after a moment, padded over and sat down next to him. Damian had been very fearful these past few days, getting used to the new environment and people. The boy was quiet and shy, often flinching back when someone moved too fast in his direction, only speaking when he was spoken to and often hiding himself in small spaces, scared of being found. He had trouble with food, too, eating only when given permission and then having a tendency to gorge himself to the point of puking, drinking too was a problem, the boy needing reminders to drink slowly when presented with a cup of water, or juice, often choking and coughing when he hastily drunk down the contents as if afraid it would be taken away again. Damian had not yet grasped the concept of just getting himself something to eat and drink, not understanding that he was allowed to do so and that no punishment would await him if he did. Alfred had taken to carefully monitoring the boy's food and liquid intake, after that first day, giving him many smaller meals over the day so as to not make the boy sick by over-feeding him, but also meeting the nutritional requirements of a child his age.

Funnily enough, this meant that Damian had taken to following the man around, like a puppy begging for scraps, not having cottoned on to the fact that his meals were timed and that he would receive food at the same time every day. Although the old butler didn't mind the company, the little boy seeming to loose some of his fear and shyness around the man, being given small tasks that he took to with an adorable seriousness. Tim wondered if the boy would continue to blossom under the butler's gentle guidance, perhaps becoming more open with the rest of his family as well, Jason being the only one that was openly approached as of now.

Damian coming to sit by him was a huge step for him and Tim did not dare to press him by breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“Alfred says you will be staying the night.”, the boy mumbled softly, darting a quick glance at him as if gauging his reaction to him speaking out of turn.

Tim gave him an encouraging smile, seeing the child relax a little as he wasn't reprimanded for opening his mouth.

“Yes, I'll stay after patrol.”

Damian put his hands in his lap, folding them neatly. Tim thought that any other child might have fidgeted, but Damian had probably been trained out of that.

“But you do not live here?”

Tim blinked at the careful question, then chuckled and shook his head. Tim's place in the family must be confusing to the small boy.

“Ah, no. I'm not one of Bruce and Clark's children. I'm just Robin, not their son. My parents are out of the country a lot, so I tend to stay here often, but my house is right next to yours... See? You can see the roof over there.”, the teen pointed to where the roof of his house peeked over the garden wall at the far end of the manor grounds, Damian following his finger and squinting to see.

“I see.”, the other boy said and nothing else.

They watched the sunset together and Tim felt oddly at peace. He didn't need to worry about Damian anymore, the boy being as safe as could be here, and he could watch over him and be his friend as he worked to overcome the trauma of his upbringing. It was nice, something he could look forward to.

…

Tim was a bit worried about Kon and Jason meeting, the former preferring to stay with his grandparents in Smallville, rather than live with his father in Gotham, but he did come by every now and then. Him and Dick got along well, Kon having a lot of admiration for his step-brother and Dick just being a good big brother in general, so there were no problems there. Jason, however, had a very obvious jealousy problem when it came to his father's affection, and seeing as him and Kon were technically the same age, Kon being sixteen and Jason being mentally still fifteen with the added year that he had been alive again, that could lead to Jay thinking the clone had taken his place in the family. Tim needn't have worried.

“Clone.”, Jason greeted the shorter teen, who narrowed his eyes at him.

“Zombie.”

There was a moment of silence before a grin grew on both boy's faces, Jay letting out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, I like him. Say, you got the same powerset as Pops, right?”

Kon raised an eyebrow and Tim felt his stomach drop at the dangerous gleam in his predecessor's eyes.

“Yeah, why?”

“How accurate is your heat-vision?”

Bruce, who had been watching the two teens like one might watch a cobra, immediately put his foot down.

“Whatever you are planning to blow up. Don't.”

Jay groaned theatrically, his and Bruce's relationship having gotten a lot better since Tim had gotten the older teen to talk to him.

“Aww, but Bruce! Think of it as brotherly bonding!”

Clark crossed his arms over his chest, although he was unable to hide his amusement.

“Not if we have to put out the fires, boys.”

Steph bounced over with a grin on her face that spoke of doom in the future.

“I've got an idea! Follow me, boys!”

The girl took off and Jay and Kon exchanged a look before following. Dick sighed and went after them.
“I'll make sure they don't actually blow anything up.”

Tim snickered and hopped to his feet, taking one last peek at the clock.

“As fun as joining them would be, I've gotta go, my parents are coming home soon.”

Bruce smiled and ruffled his hair.

“Alright, have fun, Tim.”

The boy nodded and was about to leave when a tiny voice stopped him.

“Wait!”

Tim blinked in surprise at his soulmate, who came up to him, eyes flickering around nervously. The older boy bent down to his level, curiosity gnawing at him.

“What is it, Dami?”

The younger boy swallowed and then held out a piece of paper for him. Damian had recently discovered drawing and had taken to it with great enthusiasm, plastering pictures all over his room and giving them away as gifts. This was the first that Tim had received.

“Here... for you.”

Tim took the paper and looked at it, breath catching. It was a picture of him and Damian, sitting on the porch and watching the sunset, as they had done a few days ago. It was good, definitely the drawing of a child, but a good drawing none the less, Damian had a great eye for color and he could already tell that the boy would be quite the artist if he kept practicing.

“Thank you.”, he breathed, touched beyond words that Damian had not only remembered that evening, but that it had meant enough to him to put it in drawing, “It's really good. I'll hang it up in my room, yeah?”

Damian's cheeks pinked cutely and he nodded, a proud smile lighting up his face. Tim was incredibly relieved by the fact that Damian seemed to know how to smile, now, even if he'd yet to hear the boy give more than a soft chuckle.

The younger boy then scampered to his father and leaned against his leg, Bruce setting a hand on his head to muss his dark curls, something the child leaned into, soaking up the affection like sponge that had been dried out too long.

Tim tucked the picture away and said his goodbyes, making it home just in time to see his parents come up the driveway.

He greeted them excitedly, getting picked up in a bear-hug by his father, even though he was technically too old for that.

“Oof, you're getting too heavy for this, Timmy!”, his father laughed, setting the teen back down and looking him over, “Look at him, Janet, he shot up like a weed! He's gonna be taller than me soon!”

His mother snorted, embracing her son in a gentler manner and fluffing his hair after.

“That is hardly an accomplishment, dear. You're gonna need a haircut soon, Timothy.”

Tim snickered as his father pouted at the dig at his height and helped them bring the luggage inside, giving them a heavily censored version of what he had been up to while they had been gone. When he got to the part about Jason being alive, his father interrupted him with an exclamation of disbelief.

“The boy isn't dead? Then where has he been all this time?”

Tim flopped down onto the couch next to him, giving them the official version of the story that had gone out to the press and had caused a media frenzy.

“He was in Ethiopia, still. Turns out he survived the explosion, but ended up in a coma, he woke up seven months ago and had to get better before he could contact Bruce to get him home.”, Tim grinned as he got to his favorite part of the story, “While he was at the hospital, he befriended a boy who kept coming there with injuries he claimed were from his soulmate, Jason thought he looked awfully familiar and recognized him as Bruce's son. Apparently an old girlfriend of his had gotten pregnant and not told him about it, keeping the boy a secret. So when Bruce got there to get Jason, he took Damian with him, too.”

His mother stared at him in surprise, then she frowned.

“He just took the boy from his mother? Could he even do that?”

Tim hastily explained, not wanting Bruce to come across as a child-snatcher.

“Oh, no he had reasons! Damian's mother was awful to him! Remember how I said he kept going to the hospital to get treatment? Well, the injuries weren't from his soulmate, but they were his own.”, Tim felt the familiar anger at the boy's treatment bubble up inside him, “I really don't understand how someone could hurt Damian like that, he's really sweet and shy, and kind of adorable... “

Tim stopped, flushing as he realized he might be gushing a bit. His parents exchanged an amused look.

“You know an awful lot about this, Timothy, I know you're friends with Richard and Conner, but I didn't realize you were that invested in the Wayne family... Is there perhaps something else you want to tell us?”, the way his mother raised her eyebrow told him that she already knew what was going on, but still wanted him to spill the beans.

The teen ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Oh, err, Damian's kind of my soulmate, so...”

His father grinned and congratulated him, his mother smiling as well. Tim excitedly pulled out the picture that Damian had given him, wanting to show off a bit.

His father hummed and hawed, making a show of examining it, then gave it his approval.

“Quite the little artist you got there, Timmy.”

The teen grinned as his mother chuckled, glancing over the drawing.

“How old is he? You thought your soulmate was younger than you.”

Tim shrugged.

“He's ten, but he looks younger because he's so small.”, Tim tucked himself against his mother's side feeling sad, “The way he was treated stunted his growth and really messed him up. Bruce and Clark are really careful with his food, since he tends to eat too much at once and make himself sick, because he was denied food a lot.... remember how, I would sometimes eat even though I was full, because it felt like my stomach was eating itself? That was all Damian...”

His mother tugged him more firmly against her as the boy began to shake, remembering all the pain he had endured alongside his little soulmate.

“And... and how I sometimes would climb into your bed because I was cold, so cold that my toes and fingers would ache and my teeth would chatter and you would tuck me up in a load of blankets even though it wasn't cold at all here? And how I would get cuts everywhere and how my arms sometimes had so many bruises you couldn't even tell what color my skin naturally was? A-and how I would break bones, fingers and toes and ribs and my arms and shins, remember that one time my skull cracked when I was eight? I-I Damian had to go through all of that and he was so little, I just- I just wanna make him feel better, mom. I-I just want him to be happy...”

He was sobbing by the end, being enveloped by his parents who were making shushing noises, just holding him and soothing the pain they had been helpless witnesses to for years.

After Tim had calmed down a bit, his parents asked if they would get to meet Damian, too, wanting to get to know the little boy who had shared such pain with their son. Tim was uncertain at that.

“I'll, uh, I'll have to ask Bruce if that's a good idea. Damian's really shy and he's just getting used to living with his family, I don't wanna overwhelm him.”

His father gave him a smile, looking proud of him.

“That's very thoughtful of you, Tim, and don't worry, if he's not ready then we'll wait to meet him, we've got time, after all.”

Tim nodded, glad that his parents understood, and then listened with rapt attention as the two started to talk about their time spent at the Binagadi asphalt lake in Azerbaijan, helping the team there recover fossils from the tar pit. While Tim was kind of sad that his parents had to work so much, the stories they came back with from their digs were just so cool, he might not have the same interest in archaeology as them, but he could still appreciate their passion about the subject. His dad was also just a really good story teller, painting pictures about ancient times, where long lost species roamed the world, some of them getting trapped in one of those tar pits that his parents had been at, forever preserved by the black goo that pulled them into it's dark depths.

When Tim brought the possibility of Damian meeting his parents up on patrol, Bruce was all for it, thinking that Damian might actually like the reprieve from the more chaotic Wayne household, which had gotten twice as hectic with Jay and Kon wrecking havoc, especially if Steph got involved, the three of them being a deadly combination that needed to be carefully monitored or there would be explosions. Roy coming over with little Lian did not help matters either, the man just enabling the teens, instead of reigning them in. Bruce lamented that Damian had withdrawn again as the rambunctious group got up to their antics, being often found hiding in the attic, or a closet if things got too loud. At least he got along well with Lian, playing with the toddler with utmost gentleness and a sort of tender fascination, having probably never been around another child, much less one so much younger than him.

Tim was ecstatic when he asked the boy himself if he would like to come over and he agreed, after thinking it over for a moment. Tim was bouncing around the house the next day, waiting for the hours to tick by, he was probably annoying the hell out of his parents, but they didn't say anything, understanding his excitement. When the doorbell rang, the teen was off like a shot, opening the door to an amused looking Bruce, Damian peeking out from behind him.

“Hello, Tim, that was quick.”

“I wasn't waiting by the window.”, he blurted, even though Bruce hadn't accused him of such.

“He was.”, his mother said in amusement, smoothing down her blushing son's hair, “It's good to see you, Bruce, and this handsome little man must be Damian. Timothy told us a lot about you.”

His mother had bent over to be at a height with the little boy, who stared at her with wide eyes. Tim suddenly felt like an idiot, because he hadn't thought about how the boy might react to a woman, Talia having been his prime abuser. He hadn't really been around any women since coming to them, Steph being only a teenager and not fully grown, Tim suddenly wondered if his mother might scare the boy.

Damian swallowed and pressed his cheek against Bruce's thigh.

“...hello...”, he mumbled and Tim saw his mother's eyes soften, the woman going down into a full crouch, clearly picking up on the boy's fear and understanding what the problem was.

“Timothy told us that you like cookies, so when he said you were coming over I prepared some. Would you like to have one?”

As if they had planned it, his father showed up, leaning against the doorway and munched on a cookie, giving Tim a wink as he patted his belly and smiled.

“Oh, you mean these cookies? Why I ate almost all of them! If you're not quick they'll all be gone!”

The man turned back and began walking back inside with exaggerated slow steps, Damian making a noise at the back of his throat as he saw him walk off. Tim's mother rose in one fluid motion, looking at her son and flickering her eyes in his father's direction, before holding a hand out to Damian.

“Quick! We must get to the kitchen, before the cookie-thief reaches it!”

Tim put on a grim face and thumped himself on the chest.

“I will hold him off for as long as I can!”

Then, giving Bruce and Damian a grin, he raced off to tackle-hug his father, the man catching him easily and tickling him, making the boy squeal with laughter. He grinned brightly when he saw his mother sneak past, holding, a still slightly bewildered looking, Damian's hand.

Jack set him down and messed up his hair, something that had Tim huffing in annoyance as he patted it back down into a semblance of order. His mother was still trying to get him to cut it, but he liked this length and refused whenever she brought it up. Bruce chuckled having come into the hallway after Damian and Janet.

“That was clever, luring him in with cookies and turning it into a game.”

Tim's father smiled, but there was something serious in the tilt of his brow.

“We didn't think about the boy maybe reacting badly to Janet, I'm sorry.”

Bruce waved him off.

“No need for an apology, if anything having a positive experience will do him good. Not having too many people around will probably help as well, the manor is quite loud these days, having all the kids and their soulmates home. Damian gets overwhelmed a lot.”

Tim's father nodded and put a hand on his son's shoulder.

“If he needs some peace and quiet, he can come by anytime, even when it's just Tim here. I trust the boys not to get up to mischief.”

Tim flushed at that, giving his father a look, the man snorting and messing up his hair, again.

“I meant not setting the house on fire, get your mind out of the gutter, Timmy.”

The teen sputtered at that, fixing his hair and glaring at his dad.
“He's ten, dad!”

“You were the one thinking it, not me.”

Tim pouted, he was pretty sure his father had set him up on purpose. Bruce said his goodbyes, promising to pick Damian up later and Tim and his father headed for the kitchen, where they could hear some very suspicious giggles.

Tim felt something warm bubble up in his stomach when he saw Damian sitting in a chair next to his mother, sipping hot cocoa and munching on cookies as they flipped through one of her travel albums. Tim snatched himself a cookie and looked over the woman's shoulder, recognizing the pictures from their trip to Bangladesh, something that led to his father recounting the trip like a fairy-tale, with grand gestures and wild exaggerations. Damian listened with rapt attention and Tim found himself sucked into the story, despite already knowing it.

When lunch time came around, Tim's mother roped the two of them into helping her, gently showing Damian how to cut the vegetables, the boy startling at the appearance of the knife at first, but losing his fear quickly under Janet's gentle guidance. Tim kept an eye on them while he stirred the pasta, knowing that his mother was paying special attention to Damian so he lost his fear of her. It seemed to be working, too, the boy growing more and more relaxed around the woman, starting to actually lean into her touch when she ran her fingers through his hair, congratulating him on a job well done. It made Tim smile, both that his mom was being so kind and that Damian was getting along well with her.

After lunch, Tim decided to take Damian up to his room, the younger boy looking around curiously at the knick-knacks that littered his shelves, picking some up to examine them, before putting them back down. Tim sat down on the bed, smiling when Damian sat down next to him, tentatively leaning into his side, glancing up at him nervously as if afraid that his affection would be unwelcome. Tim wrapped an arm around him and tucked him close instead, heart melting when the boy nuzzled against his chest, holding on to him tightly.

“Your parents are nice.”, he said softly after a moment of comfortable silence.

Tim smiled, laying his cheek on top of the smaller boy's head.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, your father is funny.”

That made the teen chuckle, his dad could be a bit of a goofball, and he had definitely cranked it up to eleven today. He had never heard Damian laugh like he had today, carefree and childish. He was incredibly grateful to his dad for that.

“What about mom? You seemed a bit scared of her at first.”, Tim asked carefully, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Damian sighed, tracing a pattern into the taller boy's chest with a finger.

“She looks a bit like mother... poised, tall, a bit imposing, but unlike mother she is kind... I like your parents, Timothy... not just because they were kind to me, but because I can tell that they love you and it makes me happy to know that your parents were good to you, growing up.”

Tim blinked the sudden dampness from his eyes and snuggled the smaller boy closer, deeply touched.

“I wish you could've had that, too.”

“I will, now.”

Tim smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of the little boy's head.

“Yes, you will.”

…

“So, wait, your parents are actually taking you with them?”, Steph asked where she was laying on the couch, her feet in Dick's lap, who was giving him a curious look as well.

Tim shrugged, smiling down at Damian, who had tucked himself into his side, being very affectionate since their first “play-date”.

“It's just for two weeks and they aren't working. We're taking a vacation in Haiti.”

His little soulmate pouted up at him.

“I'm going to miss you, Timothy.”

The teen's heart melted a little and he squeezed the little boy closer.

“It's just for two weeks, you'll be fine, Damian.”

Jason leaned over the back of the love-seat, giving Tim's hair a ruffle.

“I sure won't miss you, replacement.”

“Liar.”, the boy deadpanned and got himself a smack with a pillow, something that wouldn't hurt him and Damian, but was still annoying to the teen.

“Well, when are you leaving?”, Dick asked and Tim gave a shrug.

“Next Monday, the flight's pretty early, so I won't be able to patrol the night before. Sorry, Jay, I'll miss your debut.”

Jason had decided to go on patrol again, taking up the alias of Red Hood. Bruce had not been amused by the guns he wanted to use, even if they did only shoot rubber bullets. Tim had kind of hoped to be there, but on the other hand, Jay being out on the streets with Bruce, without Tim's interference might be a good thing, at least until he had his head in the game again.

The older teen shrugged.

“Meh, it's fine. I doubt I'd be seeing much of your scrawny ass anyway.”

Tim glowered.

“I'm not scrawny.”

“Would you prefer shrimpy?”

The boy huffed in annoyance.

“I'm not shrimpy, either!”

The tall teen grinned.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Tim was kind of excited to spend some time with his parents in another country, it had been a long time since he had been out of the country with them, them having taken him along on their trips before he had to go to school, so this was a bit nostalgic in a way.

They rented a house in Haiti and spent the first week mostly sight-seeing, Tim feeling a bit like he was floating as he laughed and had fun with his mom and dad. It was nice to have them to himself for a bit, not that he minded it when Damian came over, Steph sometimes tagging along, the two of them being big fans of his dad's stories, whether they were real or imagined.

He did have a video-call scheduled with the Bats, though, just to check in and see if everything was alright. So, the boy opened his laptop and set it on the desk in the room he had in the little house, it being more of a bungalow then anything else, and waited for the call to connect with the batcave.

“Timmy!”, Steph crowed as soon as she saw him, making the boy smile as the rest of the family quickly assembled.

“How's Haiti?”

“Ha, your face is all red! Enjoying the sunburn?”

“What have you been up to?”

“How are your parents doing?”

Tim smiled at the barrage of questions answering them one after the other, asking after things in Gotham in turn. Apparently Jay's debut had gone well, Red Hood already terrifying the local criminals. Roy had tagged along with him, too, and the two were making the rounds in Gotham's underbelly as people to watch out for, already. Kon and Clark also chimed in with the happenings in Metropolis and Damian babbled about his week after a bit of encouragement from Dick. Tim was about to ask something when there was a knock, his door already opening, and he hastily hit the minimize button, not wanting his mother to get a glimpse of the batcave.

What she did get a glimpse of was him minimizing something and looking very flustered as she entered, something that led her to her own conclusions.

“Timothy.... were you... watching porn?”

Tim almost choked on his own spit and he swore he heard a snicker from his laptop, the others still being able to hear and see what was going on. The boy felt his face go hot and hastily shook his head.

“Wha-?! No! I wasn't!”

The woman gave him a disbelieving look.

“It is fine. I understand that you are at an age where you might start getting urges-”

“Nope! No! No! No! We are not having this conversation!”, he squawked, his voice cracking in mortification.

His mother didn't even look embarrassed.

“Timothy, it's perfectly normal and healthy-”

He interrupted again, thinking his head might explode if she finished that sentence.

“Yeah, I know, thanks, mom! Now, please, stop!”

Janet raised an eyebrow at him, still cool as a cucumber.

“We are going to talk about this later, but your father and I are leaving now. You are sure that you don't want to come with us?”

Taking a few deep breaths to cool down he shook his head.

“Yeah, I'm sure. Go have fun.”

She smiled, mischief in her eyes.

“Very well. I'm sure you can entertain yourself.”

“Mom!”

She laughed and left the room. The boy sank low in his chair with a groan as he heard the other's laughter burst from the speakers.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”, he grumbled, cheeks still burning.

“So, Timmy, got any urges?”, came Jason's voice mockingly, causing more laughter.

The chuckles died off into awkward titters when Damian piped up.

“What is porn?”

Tim was suddenly very glad that he wasn't at the receiving end of that question.

“Err, we'll tell you when you're older.”, Clark said, coughing awkwardly.

“How old?”

“Tim's age.”

Said boy raised an eyebrow at that, he hadn't been that much older than Damian when he had found out what porn was. He was about to maximize the window again, when there was a loud crash from outside, the door to his room flinging open as his mother burst into the room, wide-eyed and panting, looking the most disheveled he had ever seen her.

“Tim, we have to go. Come on!”

“Mom?”, the boy asked uncertainly, his mother never called him Tim.

She was about to speak when there was a loud bang from the foyer, one that Tim recognized as the firing of a gun, and he was suddenly splattered with warm liquid. He blinked, stupefied at the splashes of red that decorated him all of a sudden, looking down in incomprehension at the woman that was lying on the floor.

“Mom?”, he asked again.

Why was his mother on the floor?

He knelt down, shaking her shoulder, her head had a hole in it, but that didn't make sense. Her head wasn't supposed to have a hole in it.

“Mom? Mom, wake up. Mom?! Wake up! Mommy!”, his voice was rising, going shrill with panic, because her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing him and this was wrong, wrong, wrong!

“Mommy! Mommy, please! Mommy!”, the boy was sobbing now, realizing that his mother couldn't hear him, realizing that it wasn't her that had been shot, but his dad, realizing what this meant.

Tim barely registered the raised voices of two men, that were coming from the foyer, too lost in his own wailing.

“What the fuck was that for?! You weren't supposed to shoot them! Who the fuck are we gonna ransom the kid to, when his fucking parents are dead?!”

“I don't know! They weren't even supposed to be here! Let's just grab the kid and go, we can always sell him!”

Tim blinked the blood from his eyes, looking up as a shadow fell over him. A tall man, dressed in black, was standing in front of him. The teen could do nothing but stare numbly, before he was pistol-whipped across the temple and everything went dark.

…

Tim awoke with a raging headache, being bound and gagged and in the back of a vehicle, that was throwing him around, banging him against the walls as it swerved as if the hounds of hell were on it's tail. Tim silently apologized to Damian for all the aches he was causing the little boy, until he remembered what had gotten him into this situation and he began to sob into his gag.

His parents were dead. His parents were dead.

Tim was an orphan, now. His parents were dead.

He couldn't wrap his head around it, his parents, his mom and dad, were gone. They couldn't be. This was a nightmare! He had fallen asleep and he would wake up and his mom would have that awful, embarrassing talk with him and his dad would laugh himself sick about it and it would all be okay! Tim didn't have his mother's blood dried to his skin, he didn't have her brain-matter in his hair, because that hadn't happened!

But, if Tim were dreaming, then he wouldn't be able to feel pain, and he was feeling a lot of that, especially when the car suddenly jerked to a stop, slamming the boy against a wall. Tim whimpered as his aching head collided with unforgiving metal and then winced as the door of the van was ripped clean off, the shriek of it piercing his skull.

He blinked at Clark, the man holding the van with one hand and the broken door with the other, a grim expression on his face.

“Tim, are you okay?”, the man's voice was gentle, but Tim's face crumpled in on itself anyway.

Because Clark was not who he wanted to see. He wanted his dad to step into the cramped space and take his bindings off, not Superman, he wanted his mom to come around the back as he was ushered out and envelope him in a hug, not Bruce. But that wouldn't happen.

Because his parents were dead.

Tim was cradled close by Bruce, the men that had attacked them lying unconscious in the street for the local authority to pick them up, and Tim just lost it, crying and sobbing, clinging to his mentor, because these men had wanted to ransom Tim. Had said that they wanted to take him and ransom him to his parents, that they weren't supposed to die.

His parents were dead.

Because of Tim.

…

The boy felt it was kind of ironic, that, when they got home, Bruce did what Tim had done so often for him, he helped him wash off the blood, helped him dress in clean new clothes, and tucked him into bed, after taking care of the wound the pistol had left on his temple and the rope burn around his wrists. Tim felt numb as Bruce tucked the blankets around him and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“I want my mom...”, he whispered, eyes burning but no tears coming, he had none left to cry.

“I know, sweetheart.”, Bruce said softly, his eyes so so sad and understanding. The man leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just like Tim's mom used to do when he was little and she still brought him to bed, “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

He nodded, even though he knew he wouldn't.

“Did... did you see?”, he asked softly, remembering that the call on his laptop had been open.

The man shuddered.

“Yes... We saw...”

Tim felt cold. We. That meant all of them, even Steph and Kon and Damian.

“I'm sorry...”

Bruce turned to him, reaching out to stroke through the boy's hair.

“Tim. It's not your fault.”

“But it is. They wanted me.”

Bruce faltered, but then resumed the movement of his hand, the gentle rhythm making him feel sleepy.

“That isn't your fault. You heard what they said, it wasn't supposed to go like this. They were criminals, stupid ones and they messed up. That isn't on you, Tim.”

Tim closed his eyes, feeling hurt and helpless and tired. He let himself be lulled to sleep, even though he would wake soon with nightmares and stay awake after, not wanting to see his mother's corpse again.

The funeral was a bleak affair, Bruce having helped Tim arrange it. It didn't rain, the sun shining brightly, mocking the mourning with it's cheerful shine. Tim barely remembered it, after it was over, being lead off by Bruce, who was already pulling strings in order to adopt Tim, not wanting to loose him to the foster system. When they got back to the manor, Bruce led Tim to the den, where he sat the boy down on the couch and pressed a cup of tea into his hands, Alfred having already been waiting with it.

“Drink. It will help with the numbness.”, he said and Tim hesitated.

“I don't want the numbness to stop... It will hurt, then...”, he sounded so small as he said it, but it was the truth.

Tim had endured a lot of pain in his short life and yet nothing had been as excruciating as the agony that had lanced through him when he realized that his mother was dead, that that meant his father was gone as well. It had hurt so bad and the wound in his heart was still bleeding, gaping open and hurting. The numbness that had crept in during the funeral held the pain at bay, he didn't want to suffer again.

Hadn't he suffered enough?

Bruce gently cupped his cheeks, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Let it hurt, it leads to healing. I let the numbness spread, after Jason, and you saw what it did to me, infecting me like poison. I realize that using you as an anchorpoint wasn't fair to you, you were a child, that should not have been a burden for you to bear and I'm sorry for that, Tim. I can not allow you to burden another like I did, because we both know that Damian will take on this pain of yours, thinking he must repay all the scars he gave you, and I will not have that.”

Tim blinked slowly, some of the numbness retreating, licks of fire cursing through him as the grief returned.

“I did what I had to, it was the role of my Robin.”

Bruce looked him in the eye, willing him to understand.

“No, that should not have been your role. Robin is Batman's partner, you... you were my caretaker and it was not right.”

Tim swallowed, coming out of his stupor as tears rose in his eyes, he took a fortifying sip of tea, feeling it's warmth soothe some of the pain in his heart.

“I... I didn't mind. I liked helping you, even if it was scary sometimes.”

The man, his adoptive father, and that would take some getting used to, smiled sadly at him.

“That's because you have a kind heart, but Tim. I am an adult, you should have never been in that position... I'm sorry.”

The boy nodded slowly, his vision blurring.

“I... I was scared, when you got angry, when I had to step in. I thought you would hit me, so many times and I was relieved when you never did, but seeing you cry and break and be so... numb, after was worse, because I was so so scared that doing the wrong thing would shatter you and it would all be my fault.”

“It wouldn't have been. If that had happened, then it wouldn't have been anyone's fault but my own. But do you see now why I can't let you do this? Even with the rest of us trying to help, Damian would take on the bulk of the burden, because he is your soulmate and he is a gentle boy. He would ruin himself if it meant helping you.”

Tim shook his head, tears falling as he took another sip of the lukewarm tea.

“I don't want that. I don't want to put Damian through that.... I'm sorry, it hurts... Bruce, it hurts.”

And there was the full pain, making him gasp and drop the tea, the liquid spilling down his front and onto the expensive leather of the couch, soaking the rug beneath. Bruce didn't care about the spilled tea, pulling him into his arms and holding him as he shook and shook, his sobs not the loud wailing things that had come from him initially. These were the quiet, painful gasps, that heralded recovery, shudders of agony wracking the teen's body as he whimpered and buried his face in the man's chest, seeking comfort and relief.

Bruce let him cry and when he was done, he kept holding him, until he pulled away, feeling worn out and tired.

“This isn't it, right? There will be many of these over the months, won't there?”, he asked softly, the wound in his heart temporarily patched over, but far from healed.

Bruce wiped at the boy's face, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

“Yes, but you will weather them all.”

Tim nodded, sniffling, knowing Bruce was right.

…

Tim was surprised when Damian came to him one night, blinking at the child in astonishment when he clambered into his bed and curled into his side, resting his head on the teen's chest.

“Uhh...?”

His soulmate glanced up at him, cheeks dark with his blush.

“Baba said you aren't sleeping because you are having nightmares. I have nightmares too and I usually go to him and Papa when that happens and then I can sleep, so I thought you might like the company to keep the nightmares away.”

Tim's heart melted into a little puddle and he smiled as he tugged his little soulmate close, the boy having recently grown a bit and put on some weight, his cheeks were actually getting a bit chubby, since people kept sneaking him snacks that Damian never said no to, Tim thought it was adorable. Damian had also recently started calling Clark Papa, something that had almost made the man cry the first time it had happened.

“That's very sweet of you, Dami. Thank you.”

Tim smiled feeling a bit lighter, knowing that Damian was there and watching over his sleep.

“I miss them, too, you know.”, the younger boy whispered and Tim swallowed thickly, hiding his face in Damian's curly hair.

“I know... I'm sorry.”

The child snuggled closer, rubbing his arm in comfort.

“I wish I could share this pain, too. I am grieving them, but my loss is nothing compared to yours. I wish I could lighten your burden, just a bit.”

The teen sighed, closing his eyes.

“I'm glad you don't. I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone, least of all you. And you are lightening the burden, just by being here for me. You are taking my pain away without physically sharing in it and I'm grateful for that.”, he stopped, pressing a kiss to the smaller boy's temple, where the wound from the attack was scabbing over, “I'm grateful for you.”

Damian giggled, a bright, childish, soft thing, that was heard in the manor more and more these days.

“I'm grateful for you too, Timothy, and I love you very much.”

Tim's heart skipped and he felt his cheeks heat.

“Love you, too, Damian.”

No nightmares plagued his dreams that night.

…