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Tim wandered down the pea gravel driveway, completely unaware of the time but knowing it was early in the morning, probably around 7:00 AM. That was much too early for someone who had been on patrol all night and then wrote a full report until 5:00 AM. But that was not a concern for him. He’d functioned on less sleep before.
It was rather chilly. The stiff breeze tugged at his Gotham Knights sweater. Tim shivered but kept walking, pulling the sleeves down over his hands and crossing his arms over his chest. He squinted against the wind as it caused tears to form in the corners of his eyes.
He arrived at the mailbox and opened the metal container, shoving his hand inside. He felt around for the telltale texture of a large box in a thin plastic bag.
‘Yes!’ he thought, pulling it out triumphantly the moment his fingers curled around the loose plastic. There was a second package – a brown box that was significantly heavier. He pulled it out as well.
He excitedly waddled back to the manor, ignoring the breeze in favor of grinning down at his prizes. Tim pranced up the steps to the large French doors and opened one with one hand, keeping the parcels close with his other. Jason was walking through the foyer and saw him.
“Hey Timbo,” he greeted. Then, he made eye contact with the objects in Tim’s hands. “What’cha got there?”
“Package,” Tim stated simply.
He then left Jason to run up the grand staircase and all but sprint to his room. Once in the comfort of his room, surrounded by his photographs and sitting on his plush bed, he giggled and stared at the packages in his hands with glee.
Thin fingers used a pocket knife to slice through the trademark company tape. The knife sliced through smoothly. Reaching inside, he pulled out the bubble wrap followed by a thick paperback book titled The Photography Bible. He set it to the side and pulled out another book, this one the thickness of a college textbook. Probably because it was a college textbook. Langford’s Basic Photography, it read. Tim smiled giddily at the two books and rushed to put the first one on his bookshelf and the other on his nightstand.
He moved on to the other package. Thin fingers tore into the thin gray plastic bag. The tear was satisfyingly smooth. Tim reached inside the bag and pulled out a wide but thin cardboard box. It was primarily blue with rainbow colors decorating it. The name of the product was printed on the box in big rainbow letters: Rainbow Loom .
He flapped his hands and bounced on his mattress, eyes positively glowing. Before he could rip into the box, someone knocked on the door.
“Timmy? Are you in there?”
It was Dick. Tim stood to open the door. When the dark wood swung open, he saw his older brother with his fist raised to knock again.
“Hi,” Tim greeted. “Can I help you?”
Dick raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. Alfred says breakfast is ready. I was coming to wake you up.”
“Oh, okay.” Tim turned back to his bed where the box was laying, tempting him to break into it right that second. “I’m not really that hungry.”
And that was true. He wasn’t. Tim knew that the family wouldn’t really be too bothered by his absence since he usually didn’t eat breakfast anyway.
Dick nodded. “Okay… Jason said you had a package?”
“Yes! I got books!” he said excitedly.
“Oh, that’s cool…” Dick trailed off, eyes narrowing. Finally, after a moment of contemplating, he asked, “You got something else, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“And you want to play with it instead of eating breakfast, don’t you?”
“... Maybe.”
Dick laughed and ruffled his hair. “Okay, just remember that you can’t spend all of your money on toys, yeah? Maybe you can show me how it works when I’m done eating,” he suggested.
Tim nodded enthusiastically, giddy at the thought of showing Dick his newest purchase. “Okay!”
Dick left and Tim went back to his bed, opening the box quickly and dumping the contents onto his quilt.
Oh yeah. This would keep him entertained for a while.
“Christ, Pretender!”
Tim pouted. “I thought you would stop calling me that…”
Jason glared at him from the passenger seat of the car where he was white-knuckling the grab handle. “Yeah, when you’re not bein’ stupid! Did ya even look to see if the lane was clear!?”
Tim had not. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything other than himself and the car.
“We’re fine, aren’t we?”
“No!” Jason shouted. “Not fine!”
“Well, why didn’t you drive, then!?” Tim shouted back.
“You insisted!”
Oh. Right. He had done that. In the garage, he’d raced over to his favorite car and asked Jason if he could drive them to the grocery store. Jason had said yes.
“Look out!” Jason yelled.
Tim had taken his eyes off the road for a second but turning back to it he saw the cars in front of him slowing down. So he slammed on the breaks, wishing the people behind him good luck. As they slowed down, something caught Jason’s eye.
“Pull over,” he demanded.
“What?”
“Pull over.” This time, he was more firm.
Tim did as he asked and pulled over into a half-full parking lot.
“Okay, now what?” he asked.
“Now you get out and switch with me.” Jason pointed to Tim’s door as he spoke. “I’m driving.”
“Fine.”
Red Robin crouched in the rafters of the old warehouse, peering down at the site of a weapon trade. The sellers were already there with dozens of large wooden crates. They were no doubt full of dangerous devices that could raise crime rates in the city should they leave the warehouse.
He would have done it alone but Batman had said it needed to be a two-person job. He didn’t know why; he had done this type of stuff alone before! Maybe it had to do with his sleep debt, which was going on for about 27 hours. It wasn’t the longest he’d been awake, so he didn’t think that was the reason.
Regardless, he now had Robin at his side. The young teen was crouched next to him with his hood up and his hand on his sword. He was watching intently, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Did you know that strawberries are nuts?” Red Robin whispered.
Robin froze. “What?” he asked, equally as quiet.
“They’re nuts, not berries,” Red Robin repeated. “It’s because–”
“Not the time, Red,” someone said over the comms – probably Oracle. “Focus on the mission.”
“Right.”
He was growing antsy from the boredom. He knew he should probably wait until they had counted all of the thugs, maybe search for the ring leader to make sure they got everyone accounted for in the warehouse. But he was so. Damn. Bored. So he jumped.
He landed on the large table right in the middle of the criminals, reinforced boots thudding loudly against the wood. The group stopped what they were doing to look at him, surprise and confusion in their eyes.
“Hi,” he greeted, smiling brightly. “What brings you to Gotham?”
“You can’t be serious,” one of the criminals grumbled.
Another pulled a knife from his boot and then there were several weapons, both melee and ranged, trained on his person. Someone charged with a shout.
Red Robin kicked them away, the smile still on his face. More came at him from left and right. He smacked one with his bo staff and another’s stomach met his steel-toed boots. One, two, three criminals. His staff swung around his body in a wide arc, knocking them onto their backs. Robin landed nearby. The kid punched someone and kicked another, swinging his katana to prevent anyone from getting too close. He waded forward, striking anyone who got in his way. Robin pushed his back against Red’s.
“I hate you,” the boy stated grumpily. He slashed the katana through one criminal’s arm, drawing blood.
“I know,” came Red Robin’s cheery reply.
Together, the two disarmed and subdued the criminals. Red Robin felt fine, his energy seemingly limitless, but he knew that Robin’s endurance wouldn’t hold out forever. As he was about to call for backup, a shot rang out.
Red felt a warm liquid seep into his costume. A sharp pain emanated from his shoulder. He could distantly hear someone calling his name. The same voice began to speak to someone else, sounding urgent.
Red Robin’s vision blacked out as he fell unconscious.
Tim’s head spun as he came to. His body felt heavy and he couldn’t open his eyes. He groaned.
“He’s awake!” someone shouted.
“Tt– Finally.”
“Took him long enough.”
“Tim? Are you with us?”
The young man groaned again and forced his eyes open just enough to see past his lashes. He saw the concerned faces of Dick and Bruce, plus Damian and Jason’s worry – not that they would visibly show it. Bruce was the closest to him, asking if he was alright. Tim nodded slowly, taking note of the dull pain in his right shoulder.
“Yeah.” His voice was croaky and his throat was dry. He coughed and easily accepted the cup of water Dick offered him. He sipped on it before asking, “How long was I out?”
“Few hours,” Jason supplied. “Alfie’s got ya on some painkillers.”
Tim gave a noncommittal hum before looking at Bruce. “Am I in trouble?”
“Why would you be in trouble, Tim?” Bruce asked quietly.
Tim tried to shrug but hissed in discomfort halfway through as the action jostled his injured shoulder. “Dunno. I jumped the gun, you know? Didn’t wait. Could’ve gotten Damian hurt.”
Damian sneered, though Tim could tell it was less malicious and more to save face. “I would not have been so careless as to–”
“Easy, Dami,” Dick soothed. “We know you can take care of yourself, but so can Tim–”
“No he can’t,” Jason interjected.
Dick sighed. “He got injured tonight. We aren’t impervious. We’re human. It’s natural to worry about others getting injured. Okay?”
Tim was glad to see Dick reining Damian in. The boy had come a long way because of Dick’s guidance and was probably the reason why Tim and Damian could be in the same room together without supervision.
“Fine,” Damian acquiesced.
“You’re not in trouble, Tim,” Bruce declared. “But you need to start warning us before you do things like that, especially when manic. You know you tend to make rash decisions during your episodes.”
Tim looked down at the white sheets covering his lower body. His fists clutched the cotton tightly. “I don’t mean to,” he mumbled.
“We know you don’t. But we want to help you with this.” Bruce gently held one of Tim’s clenched hands in his own. “When you want to make a decision but don’t know if it’s rational, let one of us know and we’ll help you decide. Okay?”
Tim let his fist uncurl in his father’s palm. His eyes met Bruce’s, then Dick’s, and Jason’s, and finally Damian’s. He saw his family, all determined to help him. They didn’t think he was broken, or a burden. They were merely concerned, and the thought brought a fire to his chest, warming him through. Their love was unconditional, even for him. He’d had his doubts before, but now he could start to accept that it was real.
“Okay.”