Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Dark Knight held no mercy for the criminals of Gotham. He killed and slaughtered all evil to preserve the safety for innocent civilians.

When Robin came along, all the villains lurking around thought one of two things. Either they would see Robin as someone never to be touched, lest you die a more brutal death than if the bat killed you on normal terms, or they saw Robin as a way to get back at Batman, a way to snuff out his new birdie.

But no one expected the little bright bird to be worse than Batman.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Then there was another bird, found stealing the tires off the Batmobile. In normal circumstances, he would have been killed for his crimes.

But he was a child, and Batman might be brutal, but he didn’t hurt kids.

The bird flew, and behind every moment was a small shadowy figure. One accompanied only with the sound of a shudder clicking.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Tim was running for his life, he was always running. But this time, he would be caught.

He was nine when he found out who the dark figures of Batman and Robin were, and just a year later the new Robin made an appearance.

Tim took to the streets, knowing the dangers and consequences if he got caught. His camera hung from his neck like a noose, a constant presence that would eventually be his downfall.

And it was, because after three years of careful observation, photos and stalking, he messed up.

At the age of thirteen, Tim was going to die because the flash of his camera went off. Pathetic, really.

Tim launched himself over to the next rooftop, hitting the lower one in a painful run. He heard the wiz of a grapple before Robin had crashed into him.

He landed with a painful crunch, landing on his expensive camera. That wasn’t his current worry, since the older teen had him pinned down, grinning down at him.

“Whatcha got there, kid?” Jason snarked, holding Tim’s squirming arms. “You like taking pictures?”

Alarm bells rung out incessantly in Tim’s head, thrashing around. “Get off! I didn’t do anything!”

Jason pressed a knee into his stomach and grabbed both of Tim’s wrist in his ironclad grip, holding it away from Tim’s body. His other hand grabbed his camera.

Tim’s eyes widened in horror, silently praying that the camera was broken beyond repair. He went still as the click of it starting up sounded out.

He could only stare in abject terror as Jason’s grin grew bigger and bigger with every photo he saw.

“Tim, Timmy, Timsters, what have you been doing…?” Jason muttered, sending another wave of fear through him as he started to thrash again.

Tears pooled in his eyes, and when Jason looked back his eyes widened in almost comical panic. “No, kid, don’t cry! I’m not mad at you!”

“Let me go!” He cried out, instantly hooking onto Jason’s weakness and letting the waterworks go free.

Jason sighed and placed the camera down tentatively. From this angle, Tim could see it was only the lens that had broken under his weight.

He reached up for his ear, frowning. “B, I’ve got a kid here takin’ photos of me.”

This was it, Tim was going to be murdered after a stupid mistake he hadn’t made since he was ten.

But… maybe not if he played this right.

“Let me go or I’m gonna tell everyone you're Jason Todd!” Tim snarled through snot and tears. That got his attention.

Jason snapped his head to Tim, jaw slack in shock, so Tim continued.

“And- and everyone will know about you and Bruce and Dick!” He knew he was rambling, give him some slack, he was about to die. “You can tell Bruce I got away, but let me go! He doesn’t need to know!”

Silence filled the air for a very tense thirty seconds before Jason opened his mouth.

“Hear that B?” Tim’s veins turn to blood just as fast as Jason’s giddy smile shows. “Might need a DNA test for this one, think he’s yours.”

Tim slowly tilted his head up from where he was on the ground, seeing Batman looming behind him in all his glory.

There was a faint smell of blood on him, and it sounded like static when he opened his mouth to speak.

Although that might be Tim, because apparently fainting was an appropriate response to seeing The Batman.

Tim really hoped he’d wake up at home, it all being a nightmare, but with Bruce’s subtle smile being his last image of the man before he passed out, he severely doubted it.

Chapter Text

The first thing Tim noticed when his brain came to consciousness was the dryness in his mouth. It spread through his tongue and throat, like he had been breathing, cold, frigid air since the dawn of time.

Tim’s eyelids were heavy, but that wasn’t necessarily an uncommon occurrence for him. You’d think night after night staying up far past 3am, he would have grown used to the lack of sleep. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

Tim’s brain latched onto his nightly patrols for some reason, like there was something he should be remembering.

His eyebrows furrowed, eyes clenching shut in concentration. As seconds ticked on and he couldn’t recall what he needed to remember, the more he realised he didn’t remember anything about last night…

Soft hands clenched into a fluffy blanket, a twinge of pain from scraped palms.

Wait… fluffy blanket…?

Tim’s eyes flew open, memories rushing in in surges, matching the sudden rapid beat of his heart. The first thing his eyes land on is a smooth, white ceiling, accompanied by a sleek white fan.

The ceiling in his room didn’t have a fan.

None of the rooms in his house had a fan.

Tim had to physically stop himself from bolting up, instead carefully raising his head just enough to look around the room.

It was about the same size as his room, but it didn’t have the same warmth as his room.

There was a large dark oak desk with papers neatly stacked next to a little lamp. The chair was pushed in neatly, the colour matching the desk.

There were two doors on the other side, one open to reveal a walk-in closet. While the other was closed, a peek of tiles had Tim thinking it was some kind of bathroom.

Everything, while extravagant, was impersonal, like it was a guest bedroom.

Tim slowly moved to push himself up with his palms, hands sinking into the far too soft mattress. The duvet thrown over him felt like a sundew, inconspicuous before you’re trapped in its adhesive, pulling you back.

Looking down, Tim’s gut turns. The jacket and shoes he was wearing last night were nowhere to be seen, leaving him in a dark pair of pants, t-shirt and fluffy socks he wore.

His head spun trying to figure out where he was and what he was doing here. Of course he had memories of being tackled to the ground by Robin, but how the hell did that lead to him waking up in an unfamiliar room?

In all honesty, Tim didn’t think he was going to wake up after they-

Tim bolted out of the bed, almost slipping on his socks.

His camera!

This was bad! Yes they already knew he knew their identities, but those photos go so much further! He might have been able to get off if he had just shut his mouth!

Anxiety thrummed in his veins as Tim approached the door. He took cautious steps, like him even moving too quickly would alert The Batman that he was awake.

The doorknob was cold to the touch, slippery enough that Tim fumbled to grip it. It didn’t matter anyway, since the door was locked.

Tim didn’t even realise he was hyperventilating until air failed to reach his lungs, forcing him into taking a panicked gasp.

This was bad. Not only did the Wayne’s know he knew about their identity, but they knew who he was! Even if Tim got out of here, where could he go?

Backing up until his legs hit the bed frame, Tim tried to keep down the bile threatening to come up his throat.

The logical side of Tim, the one that figured out the identity of Batman from a quadruple somersault knew he wouldn’t be killed. None of the Bats killed kids, not even when they steal the tires off the batmobile.

The other side was screaming what if he’s different? What if the fact he knows their identity puts him in a whole other category that rules out the protection of him being a child?

What if they keep him locked up until he’s eighteen just to gut him as an example for the whole of Gotham?

Dangers to Batman’s family were always stamped out, take for example the Joker, who got his hands on Robin. Robin made it out with a few broken bones. The Joker got his head on a stake for his decisions.

Tim didn’t know how he got in the walk-in closet, just that he was curled in one of the corners, behind a rack of child sized coats.

His knees pressed against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart making every breath stutter. Tim’s vision narrowed, head light and dizzy.

His heart almost stopped when the door slowly opened, light from the room spilling in.

Chapter Text

All Tim could see past the coats was the waist down of someone, likely an adult male. He was wearing blue jeans and some scuffed up sneakers.

Whoever it was paused in the doorway for just a moment, before stepping into the small room with a soft chuckle.

Tim’s breathing stopped the closer the legs got, and despite knowing his endeavour was useless, he hoped being quiet would stop the intruder from finding him.

Any delusions broken from its fragile stand the moment the coats parted, leaving Tim exposed and vulnerable. That wasn't what made his breath hitch from its exhale though.

No, it was the fact the face looking down at him was no other than Dick Grayson, the first Robin.

The man that as a child cackled when Batman caved heads in.

Dick was smiling down at him, but it looked more like a predatory grin, like a wolf knowing his prey was caught, and now he could just toy with it.

“Hey kiddo, what are you doing in here?” Dick’s voice was a mockery of a soothing croon. His knees bent smoothly to crouch, face to face with Tim.

Tim couldn’t help the mortifying tears pooling in his eyes. He wanted to be brave, to be strong in the eyes of someone so cruel, so used to using others' weaknesses against them, but he couldn’t.

So instead, tears dripped onto his knees, bright blue eyes looking up at the older man.

Dick put on a mockery of a pout, sitting down so his legs were crossed. His body blocked Tim’s way out, no chance for the younger boy to ever escape.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Every word was soft, deceptively kind. It didn’t belong to the dark glint in the man’s eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

Lie, Tim’s brain supplied.

He wanted to scream, run, anything but sit here, crying in front of Dick Grayson of all people.

Tim flinched at the disappointed sigh, tucking his head back as far as he could as the man reached a hand towards him. Tim closes his eyes tightly, feeling the tears drip faster.

This is the end. I go out by getting my neck snapped by a murderous vigilante-

Tim chokes out a surprised noise as two arms slide under him, lifting him into the air. It was so abrupt that Tim instinctually reached out to grab a fistful of fabric so he wouldn’t be dropped.

“There you go.” Dick’s voice coos, swaying Tim as he walks closer to the light outside the closet.

A hand snaked past his back and into his hair, using it to press his face into Dick’s chest. The tears on Tim’s face soak into the fabric, leaving his eyes a red mess.

Tim felt himself be lowered, still in Dick’s arms but his lower body being pressed against soft fabric. Tim distantly realised he was back on his bed, body curled against the broad figure of Dick Grayson.

Every quiet whisper of soft promises went over the boy’s head, terror curling into his heart, constricting it from beating.

For the second time, Tim’s vision blacks out, hands that feel like claws close enough to rip out his throat.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dick ran a hand through soft black hair, a feverishly pale face pressed into his chest.

Jason was right, the boy was so sweet, so scared. They’d have to change that. His throat closed up thinking of such terror directed at him.

Usually, Dick would revel in the dread that appeared when people saw him. He loved when criminals screamed, cried for mercy. He adored watching the light leave their eyes.

But this kid wasn’t a criminal, let alone anyone Dick would ever want to hurt. He was a child, and Dick gutted those who hurt kids.

Tim was going to be his brother, so Dick just had to show him he had nothing to fear. Not from his family or anyone outside, because Dick would kill anyone who laid a hand on his new baby brother.

It would be a long process, getting the baby bird to trust him. He was nothing like Jason, a boy who fought rather than froze.

But he was willing to put in the effort, because this kid would be his brother, if he liked it or not.

Dick’s phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He wasn’t surprised to see Bruce’s name pop up on his phone.

“Hey B.” Dick whispered, putting the phone up to his ear. He was pretty sure the baby bird was asleep, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“Dick.” His dad’s voice was deep, more of the Batman growl than his normal pitch. “I just got to the cave, how is Tim?”

Dick looked down at his baby brother, smiling softly. “He’s okay, he just got freaked out and I went to check up on him. Breathing is a little fast, but he’s asleep so it should slow down.”

No doubt Bruce was watching one of the cameras, monitoring his new kid himself. Paranoia ran in all the bats, but each one had a different way of showing it.

Dick’s hand worked through all the tangles and knots in Tim’s hair, lovingly gazing down. He would fit right in, it wasn’t easy to get into his secret stash of photos in his room after all.

Every corner of that room was meticulously searched, and only after Bruce himself arrived did they find the folder in the panel under the carpet of his closet.

It was impressive, and it made Dick’s heart soar. If they hadn’t already tested his DNA, Dick would have been suspicious of Jack Drake’s place as his biological father.

“Hn.” Bruce grunted. “When it’s time for patrol, Jason will take your place. I don’t want him alone in there.”

Dick could kick up a fuss, refuse to detach himself from the baby bird, but for once, Dick just huffed. “We’ll see.”

The older man hung up before Bruce could protest. Dick wanted to keep his arms around the precious boy, to keep him safe where he couldn’t run or get hurt.

He had so much to atone for, he couldn’t make the mistakes he made with Jason. Jason was so kind, so sweet to forgive him, but Tim might not be the same.

Tim could hate him, hit scream and cry. Tim could slam every door he sees and run away, but that wouldn’t change how Dick would love him.

Tim would grow to love him, even if that means terror and hatred. Dick would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Jason had been reading for the last three hours, and honestly, his legs were starting to fall asleep on him.

Don’t get him wrong, Jason had been absolutely thrilled to be entrusted with his new baby brother, but it wasn’t that exciting when the kid had been passed out the majority of the time they had spent together.

Despite the kid's lack of consciousness, Jason knew he was the right one. Who blackmails a literal murderer without being a little inclined to go off the deep end eventually?

To be fair Jason kind of got it. When he’d first met Bruce, he thought he’d be skinned alive for daring to steal the tires off the Batmobile. But over lots of time (and many escape attempts) Jason learned Bruce was just a big softie!

Okay, well maybe not, with the kill count he has, but to his kids at least.

Jason wasn’t even reading anymore, just staring at the pages of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice blankly. He had read it a thousand times, practically knowing it off heart.

Sighing, Jason shook his head and tried to clear his mind. His eyes automatically drifted to the third black-haired, blue-eyed orphan (not including Bruce himself) these manor walls had seen.

Jason didn’t expect to see wide blue eyes, open and trained solely on him. He startled, unable to keep the excitement from his face.

“You’re awake!” The older boy was about to scoot closer, but by how scared stiff the kid looked, he decided that would probably send the kid into unconsciousness for the third time. “Fu– udge, I thought you’d never wake up!”

Tim looked a little like a deer in headlights with his ruffled hair and wide blue eyes. Blankets pile up around him, no doubt Dick’s doing.

Jason tried to keep still, not wanting any sudden movements to startle Timmy. His hands were in his lap, palms up and in direct line of Tim’s sight.

After a few seconds of silence, Jason sighed. This was expected, he knew he couldn’t just bluff his way into this, not when technically he was Timbo’s kidnapper.

“Okay first things first, none of us, B, Dickhead and I, are ever going to hurt you. We don’t hurt kids no matter what.” Jason tried to make his voice firm but kind, eyes locking onto the way Tim straightened his back almost imperceptibly.

Tim didn’t look any less tense, in fact his rigid posture looked like a habit formed from fingers poking into his sides and sharp words. It didn’t paint the best picture in Jason’s mind.

Smiling a little in an attempt to soothe Tim’s nerves, Jason slowly raised his arms in a placating manner. “I know this is really scary, but I can promise nothing will happen to you.”

“You can’t promise that!” Tim slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening at his own outburst.

Jason blinked at him, surprised Tim had even spoken. It wasn’t even that loud and honestly Jason should have expected it, with how he threatened their identities earlier.

Tim looked horrified, and there were tears forming before Jason could even conjure up anything to say.

“Hey– Wait wait wait, don’t cry!” Scooting forward, Jason hovered his hands over the boy’s shoulders. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but I promise I won’t let B or Dickiebird hurt you!”

Tim only sobbed louder, crumpling in on himself, hiding his face behind curled fists, swiping against red skin.

He needed to build trust, a way for Tim to believe him because right now, Jason was nothing more than a serial killer that had kidnapped him.

Jason reached forward, placing two firm hands on Tim’s shoulders. It wasn’t enough pressure to be uncomfortable, but just enough to be grounding. “Timbo, I can’t promise I won’t be here, but I can stop B or Dickiebird from coming in here until you’re ready, okay?”

He didn’t stop crying exactly, but he did slow down, blue peering behind his hands. It was just enough for Jason to smile a little, hoping it would be reassuring.

“I know baby bird, I was scared too. It was all too much and I didn’t know if they’d hurt me, but I can promise you none of us would ever hurt you. You have my word, Robin’s word, and Robin never breaks his promises.”

A Robin’s promise, usually one of vengeance or an omen or death, now a pledge of protection.

Slowly, Tim nods his head. Jason doesn’t think Tim believes him just yet, not with the scared look in his eyes or the way he still shrinks from Jason’s touch, but it’s something.

Jason pulled back, leaning back with careful precision. “Okay Timberlina, have you ever read Pride a Prejudice?" At Tim’s shake of his head (and confused look at the nickname), Jason grinned. “Let me change that then.”

Sitting back, Jason flipped back to the first page, eyes barely scanning over the first sentence before he was speaking.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

Chapter Text

It was sort of surprising how receptive Tim had been to Jason’s presence. With Dick and Bruce, the kid had literally fainted in their presence, however Jason seemed to have some sort of calming effect on him.

Maybe it was the idea that Jason had been in that exact situation or maybe because Jason was a lot less… infamous than the older two, but either way, what worked worked.

Dick had been infinitely salty, grabbing Jason in a headlock and ruffling his hair. He had only let go to lunge at Bruce when their father had told him Jason would be the only one in Tim’s room for the time being.

With all the smugness of the favorite brother, Jason had given a mocking look to Dick before heading back off to Tim’s room, a plate of food in hand.

It was a bowl of soup, courtesy of Alfred.

Jason knocked softly on the kid’s door, only entering when he heard the shuffle of Tim getting up. The fingerprint handle made it easy to enter and exit Tim’s room without risk of him bolting off with a key.

Like the other two times Jason had entered the room while Tim was awake, Tim had stood up in the corner, eyes wide and body rigid.

When the door shut with a click, Jason stepped towards the bed. “Hey Timmers, I have some food for you, okay?”

Slowly, like a paranoid cat ready to bolt, Tim lowered himself onto the bed. He had those wide blue eyes that made it feel like he could stare into your soul.

Jason noticed with a smile the water bottle on the bedside table had been opened and sipped at. It hadn’t been tampered with, but Jason remembered how he refused to eat and drink before Dick held him down and forced him with an iron grip.

Bruce had… not been happy about that.

With exaggerated movements Jason made his way to the bed. Timmers hadn’t spoken since his outburst that morning, face red and tear tracks dried up down his face. Jason really didn’t want to scare him anymore, needing to build up trust.

Placing the plate on the bed in front of Tim, the kid watched it warily like it was going to jump out at him. They sat in silence for a moment, Jason trying not to fiddle anxiously.

Jason had to think about what was making Timmy hesitate so he could best help. Was he not hungry? Sick? Maybe he thought the food was poisoned?

Wide blue eyes pierced up at Jason, a hesitance Jason had seen in himself before clear as day.

Well, there was only one thing that Jason could help with if one of those things were the issue.

“It’s not poisoned.” The older boy hummed, taking the spoon in hand, scooping up some of the broth and chicken bits. “Watch me.”

Jason made eye contact with Tim as he raised the spoon to his mouth. He swallowed exaggeratedly and opened his mouth to show nothing was left behind.

Placing the spoon back, Jason watched in bated breath to see what Tim would do. He would be patient if he needed, he wouldn’t fuck up like Dick had with him.

Tim still looked wary, but slow as ever he reached towards the bowl. His motions were an exact copy of Jason’s, only pausing when it almost reached his lips. Tim’s eyes flicked up to Jason like he was unsure.

When Jason smiled and nodded, Tim took the mouthful, swallowing quickly.

Something seemed to switch in the boy, eyes lighting up in a way only Alfred’s food could elicit. Tim cradled the bowl carefully like it would be ripped away from him. It was a familiar site to Jason, one he experienced many times in his childhood, in and out of this place.

Jason turned to study the room as Tim ate. He didn’t want to make him too nervous to eat, especially with how hungry the boy looked.

His cue came when there was the sound of porcelain on wood. He turned around to see Tim, watching him just as he had when Jason first entered. This time however, Jason noted, Tim’s eyes were drooping.

It was exhausting being so vigilant all the time. Tim was probably tired to his bones.

He looked so precious with messed up hair and droopy blue eyes. Jason resisted the urge to coo, lest he sound like Dick.

Jason slid off the bed, rounding it to grab the empty bowl. No one could resist Alfred’s warm meals, not even scared baby birds.

“I’ll be back in the morning.” Jason said soothingly. Tim softly nodded, tucking his chin in a little. As the older boy approached the door, he looked back at Tim. “Goodnight Timberlina.”

He didn’t get a response, as expected, but that was okay. Progress was progress.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The whirring of the Batmobile filled the cave when Jason finally made his way down. Night had fallen and it was almost time for the bats to make their presence known in the city.

Like he expected, Jason found Bruce glued to the Batcomputor, an adoring expression on his face.

Only a few select people had ever seen that look on his face. More often than not those people were the subjects of that look. The only exception to the rule was Alfred who had his own similar attitude to Bruce himself.

Jason rolled his eyes when he saw the image on the photo. Tim was curled up under his blankets, only a limb or two visible. The blanket rose and fell with the kid's breath, the movement Bruce was fixated on.

“Hey B-man, Dick and I are going on patrol.” Jason called out, making his way to the dressing rooms. When all he got in response was a grunt, Jason stopped to narrow his eyes. “We’re going to take the Batmobile?” Another affirming grunt had Jason crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

“He’s been like that for the last hour.” Jason jumped when Dick seemed to appear out of thin air behind him, much to Dick’s sadistic delight, the bastard. “Come on little wing, don’t waste your time here. Let Alfie deal with him.”

Jason huffed but obliged, If B didn’t get off soon, no doubt Alfred would come down with some drugged tea. It seemed like the only way to get Bruce to sleep sometimes.

He focused his sights on the dressing room, itching to punch some criminals.

Who knows, maybe he would acquire another staker baby bird.

Chapter Text

One hundred and seventy three days.

That’s the amount of time Tim’s parents former guardians had spent away from him.

One hundred and seventy three days.

The urge to go over to that house and murder the residents was strong, but sadly impossible since the bastards needed to be there in the first place.

Bruce knew how to keep his patience, he had lots of practice after all. His oldest baby had been ready to go out and murder anyone who even worked with the man who killed his parents. Bruce had to keep him from going out and killing himself in his furious passions. But eventually he was able to foster that hatred into something he could control, use to keep the boy safe.

His second was so angry and scared, lashing out at the entire family with words and thrown objects. But like before, Bruce was able to use his steady hand to keep his baby safe and eventually calm. He had such a big heart, bleeding for innocent people in a way Bruce’s never had. That bleeding heart extended to his biological mother even when it almost got him killed.

And now there was Tim, his youngest and his smallest baby. This child who hid under bedsheets and looked around with big, bright eyes. How he ever survived following them Bruce might never know.

Bruce may pride himself in his patience, but one look into Tim’s life showed this child knew patience like Bruce could never.

He waited for his parents longer than they stayed with him. He waited with bated breath for the perfect shot of Bruce. And now he was most definitely waiting for an opportunity to escape.

Bruce could see it in the way Tim’s eyes flicked around the room, lingering on the door and window. He watched as Tim stowed away any cutlery Jason hadn’t noticed he’d left.

Maybe this was bad, a sign that this boy was going to try and escape, to get himself hurt in a useless endeavor, but Bruce couldn’t have been prouder.

His older two were athletic and flexible, able to destroy trafficking rings and drug undergrounds with their bare fists, but his youngest was able to outsmart Bruce himself, taking photos for years without his notice.

Bruce couldn’t help smiling at the polaroids on his desk, in the very same box they’d found in Tim’s closet. Smart boy he was, far smarter than Bruce at his age.

The idea of Tim possibly trying to escape always sent a jolt of fear through Bruce’s chest. The very possibility he could get out long enough to get hurt had something ugly rearing itself in Bruce’s heart.

But maybe Tim needed it, needed to see that his escape was impossible. Bruce knew he wouldn’t stop trying until he truly knew just how futile any attempts might be.

Tim would just have to learn the hard way that even his patience wouldn’t win over Bruce’s sheer force of will.

Chapter Text

Tim was fairly sure it had been three days since he’d been taken, if his meal and sleep schedule was anything to go by.

He mentally compiled a list of everything he knew.

Jason was the one most likely to drop off meals.

His door, and presumably more doors further inside the house, use fingerprint locks.

There was a security camera in the left corner of his room, but it was built to be discreet.

The Wayne’s have no intention of letting him go.

He would make a mental list of all the things he didn’t know, but that would be far too long to keep track of. However the most pressing question Tim couldn’t figure out for the life of him was, why were they doing this?

Sure, Jason had told him they didn’t plan on ever hurting him, but their whole careers were lying and killing.

Surely if they didn’t want him to spill their identities there would be thousands of other ways that wouldn’t involve housing and manually keeping an eye on him?

It made Tim want to rip his hair out. There were very few puzzles Tim couldn’t solve, and this was the biggest.

But above all, why were they trying to convince Tim to put his guard down?

It was obvious Jason had made an effort to make the safest feeling environment for Tim he could in this situation. He hadn’t let his older, more murderous family members into the room. He would make his body language less intimidating and so he wouldn’t crowd Tim.

The thought occurred to Tim that this might just be one big game for them?

Nightwing was arguably the most terrifying bat, even in his Robin days. Robin would play with criminals, pull and push their lives around, making them think they’ll live just to have Batman step out of the shadows and snap their necks.

Maybe Dick was teaching Jason? Teaching him how to push and pull with someone's life just enough for their death to be satisfying?

Just the thought had bile rising in Tim’s throat, tension growing in his shoulders.

But maybe… maybe Tim could use this.

Maybe if it looked like he was letting his guard down, they would too?

Well, if they wanted a show, Tim could play along.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When Jason stepped into Tim’s room, he could immediately feel a shift in the atmosphere. His eyes locked on the boy, the defiance almost drained from his posture and a defeated look in his eyes.

It tugged at something in his heart, the sight one he’d experienced. The idea that you’ll never escape, never get out finally settling on your shoulders. It had taken a lot more time for Jason to be overcome, but maybe it was a good thing!

Jason had hurt and hurt so much, his heart always fluttering with panic and an instinctual need to just run that he wasn’t able to see how much Bruce wanted him as a son and not a prisoner.

If avoiding that hurt with Timbo meant he would feel the bitter taste of defeat, maybe it was for the best.

“Hey Tim.” Jason could hear the involuntary sadness in his own voice, a lingering feeling of guilt for putting that look of beaten reluctance on his face. “I have some fruit here for you.”

It was grapes, his favorite.

If he asked how Jason knew– well, he might already have a good idea of how.

Tim just nodded, but his eyes shifted to the side, a hesitance in his eyes. It wasn’t his normal hesitance, but one like he was debating to say what he wanted.

Jason sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the bowl of grapes carefully down onto the soft duvet. As much as he wanted to fill the silence, he let it linger.

His efforts paid off when Tim opened his mouth and looked down, looking anxious.

“Uhm…” The boy said quietly, Jason having to strain his ears to hear. “I– I kind of want a shower, but…”

Jason’s heart started to beat a little faster. This was the first time Tim had openly spoken to him without crying, as well as him showing interest in using something Bruce had provided to him other than water and food.

Tim flushed, hands starting to shake. “Could you make sure no one comes in?” His voice was pitched up, a shaky quality to it.

And just like that, Jason’s heart broke. He was sure Tim would’ve been able to see it on his face if he weren’t preoccupied with looking down at his hands.

This was a young boy in an unfamiliar place with strangers that had taken him off the streets for, to him, unknown reasons. The idea that anyone in the household might– No, Jason didn’t even want to think about it because it wasn’t even a possibility.

The important thing was Tim trusted him enough to stop anything from happening.

“Of course.” Jason said firmly, swallowing through the dryness in his throat. “No, you go have a shower, I can even talk to you while you do it, if that makes you feel better.”

The flicker of hope in his bright blue eyes made it all worth it, the way he nodded and straightened his back.

Jason tried not to watch as Tim hesitantly made his way into the closet, coming out with a bundle of black and navy, head tucked as he stepped foot into the tiled bathroom.

Tim looked back only for a moment before the door shut, something close to pleading in his eyes.

Swallowing thickly, Jason laid on his back, eyes roaming the ceiling. His mouth opened and he found himself rambling about his day.

As the water ran on and on for a few minutes, Jason found himself switching from his day to ranting about classic literature and how Romeo and Juliet wasn’t really a love story, but rather a warning of infatuation.

Just as he got to the part where Romeo poisoned himself, the door creaked open and Tim creeped in.

Jason tried to school his expression, a grin trying to break out on his face. Tim had grabbed an oversized hoodie and a pair of baggy jeans, two items of clothing that used to belong to both Jason and Dick.

Tim crawled onto the bed, damp hair all ruffled and clean. He looked tired, blinking harshly.

Deciding that was his cue to go, Jason let himself slip off the bed. “Just ask me again if you want to do that again.”

There was a certain pride that made Jason’s heart soar when Tim nodded, the same shy and hesitant expression, but the fear almost disappeared from his face.

Jason opened the door and slipped out, making sure the door was closed properly. Only when he was sure it was, Jason bolted down the hallway, a laugh on his tongue and grin on his lips. Dick would be thrilled to hear of Timberlina’s process!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As soon as the door clicked shut, Tim let his head fall back and grimace.

The shower felt great, maybe the best shower he’s ever had. He felt clean and not quite like a grimy teenage boy. Tim just knew his hair would be the softest he’d ever have with those fancy products they undoubtedly spent a fortune on.

But even with those luxuries, Tim felt his skin crawling at the feeling of these clothes.

It wasn’t the fabric, not with its impossibly soft material. No, it was the fact it wasn’t his clothes. Peeling off his clothes had felt like a betrayal, like he was losing the last scrap of himself to this home.

Tim had tucked it away under the cabinet, anxious the second he left it in easy reach Jason or someone else would grab it and make it disappear without a trace.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew it would be beyond easy for anyone in this family of detectives to find the scraps of fabric if they wanted to, but hopefully they wouldn’t go looking for it without prompting.

Tim burrowed himself in the bed, bringing the sheets over his head like a barrier against the nightmare that was his life now.

Just a little longer, Tim promised himself, he could go on just a little longer.

He prayed it wasn’t a futile hope to cling onto.

Chapter Text

Jason’s back ached, arched over for so long with his arms cushioning his head against the desk. It took him a moment to realise what had woken him, and as soon as he looked up, his heart jumped into his throat.

On the Batcomputors monitor sat Tim, curled up in his bed and crying bitterly. His head was pressed in between his knees and hair sticking to his face.

Pulling the chair a little closer, Jason rewinded the feed a bit, heart clenching as he watched Tim go from a fitful sleep to bolting up, eyes wide and already filled with tears.

It reminded him of himself when he’s first been here, too scared to sleep, only taken under when exhaustion finally pushed him past his limits. Those days were full of nightmares.

Pushing himself up from the chair, Jason fought with himself if he should leave Tim alone or come in to comfort him.

He knew Tim wasn’t the same as him, but he couldn’t help comparing their situations. That’s what really made him conflicted, because on one hand Jason had been desperate for someone to just hold him, tell him he’d be okay. But he also knew if Dick or Bruce had made their way into his room in the middle of the night, he’d have thought he’d be-

Jason resolved not to go in. He didn’t want to put that fear into his baby brother, not when Tim had just started to put his guard down.

But as Jason trudged past Tim’s room on the way to his, he couldn’t help but pause at the heartbreaking sound of Tim’s sobs. It was muffled, but that didn’t stop Jason’s sharp ears, the same reason he heard Tim’s camera shutter in the first place.

Jason tried to pull himself away, but it felt like something was tugging him, a tightening around his throat that felt like a noose.

He couldn’t stop himself as he gently knocked on the door, the sobs hitching at the soft noise.

Silence met Jason’s knock, and he should’ve expected it, but somehow the bared wires around his throat only grew.

“Tim?” Jason choked out past his hesitance, the word relieving some pressure in his heart and lungs. “Are you okay in there?”

He wasn’t sure he’d been heard until Tim let out another choked sob, this one muffled quickly, like it had come out without his permission.

“Can I come in?” Jason told himself he wouldn’t come in if Tim said no, he wouldn’t violate the simple boundary. But to his shock, there was a small noise of affirmation, as quiet as it was.

Slowly, with a painful gratuity, Jason opened the door, the soft moonlight giving Tim’s hair an almost halo effect. The oversized bed seemed to swallow him whole, soft duvet over his lower body.

Every step he took, Jason watched Tim, looking for signs Tim was scared of him more than usual. Funnily enough, despite the tears and wide eyes, he just looked– looked exhausted.

Jason felt as if the child in front of him was a new person every time they interacted. It was like his personality split, the one that would go out and chase murderers at night with a camera, and the kid that hid in closets and asked Jason to guard his door when he showered.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He whispered, watching Tim for his reaction.

He nodded, fist coming up to rub at his red rimmed eyes.

Slowly, Jason lowered himself onto the bed, longing to reach out and hug his poor little brother.

After a moment, Tim let out a stuttered breath, eyes casting down as he clutched his bedsheets tight. “I– I miss my parents.”

And oh, did that make bitter jealousy rise in Jason’s throat like bile. He bit back a growl, the idea of those bastards just being around his baby brother.

Just as quickly, shame rose up his cheeks, eyes lowering. It was selfish maybe, to be mad at the mention of Timmy’s biological parents. His baby brother had just opened up to him.

If Jason got mad every time Tim mentioned those sore excuses of parents, he’d be a hypocrite. No matter how much time passed, Jason would always miss his parents. Sure, Willis had been the worst and Cathrine had ultimately left him to fend for himself because of her selfish actions, but that didn’t stop him from calling out their names in his darkest moments.

Even Sheila, who’s quite literally tried to sell him to a mad man, had a grave he left flowers at.

Maybe Dick would have scooped Tim up and assured him that they were his family now. Bruce would give Tim the most heartbroken look, like he didn’t know security, food and water wasn’t the only thing that could win a child over.

But Jason wasn’t them, so instead he let out his own shaky breaths.

“I still miss my parents sometimes.”

Tim looked up at him, a glorious look of curiosity in those eyes, a curiosity that had Jason’s heart swelling. But cast over it like a dark cloud was sadness. “Really?”

The older boy nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest and looking out to the other side of the room. “Yeah.”

“How–” Tim audibly swallows. “How do you deal with feeling alone?”

Jason doubted he had as much experience being alone than Tim, in that big empty house for months at a time, only for his time with his parents to be cut off because of some ‘work emergency’.

“I’m not alone anymore.” Jason answered honestly, memories of his family flashing behind his eyes. When had he closed them?

When there was no answer, Jason looked down. Tim’s eyebrows were furrowed and eye blinked rapidly. It was a barely noticeable habit, but one Jason had picked up when Tim was trying to figure something out.

The words came to Jason easily, a quiet offer in the dark of the night. He just hoped it wasn’t too soon.

“You don’t have to be either.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Tim lay there, duvet pulled to his chin and eyes locked onto the ceiling.

You don’t have to be either.

The words kept on circling in his head, the sincerity in Jason’s voice when he said it.

Surely… surely not. There was no way– right?

No. They didn’t actually want Tim, they had to have reasons, trying to trick Tim when he was down, pulling at hurts they’d seen, observed from his life.

It was manipulation, the skill Robin used most, the very foundation of his creation.

So why did the words Jason uttered feel like a confession? A plea to the deepest parts of Tim, the part that cried and sobbed for a family, for someone to love and cherish him like his parents loved their artifacts.

‘It was all just manipulation.’ Tim told himself, repeating those words over and over again. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’

So why didn’t it feel fake?

Chapter Text

Tim eyed the door, a nervous anticipation he hadn’t felt in a few days coursing through him.

“Is that okay Timmers? It’ll just be one day, okay?” Jason had said, hand twitching in Tim’s direction, but resisting.

Just one day.

Tim tried to suppress his flinch as a head of black hair emerged from the entrance to his the room. Instead of Jason’s kind eyes, Tim was met with the smiling face of Dick.

“Hi Timmy.”

Dick’s voice was gentle, like someone trying to coax a kitten out of hiding. It had Tim’s defenses rising, and it took all his effort not to raise his shoulders.

There was something dangerous about Dick Grayson, something that hid behind a facade of smiles and charm. It was the worst kind of dangerous, the kind that blindsighted you and made you none the wiser to your nearing end.

But Tim wasn’t a fool, he wouldn’t trust anyone who laughed when his knees collided with the back of someone's neck, snapping it. That particular scene had caused Tim to go early one night, sprawled over his bathroom floor, gagging.

Tim had to be smart about this, so when Dick settled himself on the bed, Tim realised Dick was being very careful not to invade his space. He had to make Dick feel confident enough to break that boundary.

“Hey buddy, I’m pretty sure Jason already told you this, but he’s at school today.” Dick slowly placed the wrapped sandwich down. “Do you want to eat now or later?”

Illusion of choice, a tactic Tim knew well. His parents used it often, like he had a decision in his isolation. Tim didn’t actually have a choice, either way he’d be eating.

Eyes cast down, carefully away from Dick’s gaze, Tim grabbed the sandwich. There was a pressure in his throat and Tim knew if he tried to eat right now it would all just come up again later. So instead, he placed the sandwich on the side table.

“Not hungry?” Dick asked in a hushed voice.

Swallowing past the anxiety, Tim peeked up through his bangs. “No.”

Dick’s eyes were sharp, a blue like waters you’d drown in, pretty but malicious. Right now, however, there didn’t seem to be any anger or apathy in his gaze, only softness.

It had gotten easy to talk to Jason, easy to spill everything past his lips, lies and truths alike, sometimes they felt too close to one another… But Dick was different, Tim was sure anything he tried to feed to the man would be caught or twisted against him.

But… There was one thing Tim thought might work, something he had autonomy over currently, because other than their initial meeting, Tim noticed Dick trying very hard not to touch Tim. It might be a far reach and do nothing in the end, but Tim had to try, had to see if anything would work.

So slowly, as the silence in the room grew less suffocating and more deafening, Tim began to change his body language.

It started off slow, he lowered his knees into a less defensive position. He could feel the eyes snap to him, an immediate pressure against his senses that stopped him from fully letting his guard down.

Tim was exhausted. That was the excuse he gave for why it was so easy to go nearly limp, his head being the only thing kept up.

He was surprised Dick had held back for so long, but just as he thought that, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. It wasn’t tugging him closer or even trapping him, still, the weight felt like steel chains pulling Tim down. He was testing the boundaries, seeing just how far he could push without Tim pushing him away fully.

Bingo.

Tim felt Dick’s breath catch as his muscles ease, retract further into a state of relaxation. He felt the tug into Dick’s side, closer and more firm.

Closing his eyes, Tim could feel Dick press his face into his hair. From his time observing the Wayne’s, he knew Dick was very tactile, an urge he apparently wasn't able to resist.

Holy shit, that actually worked!

The younger boy could feel Dick’s mouth tug into a smile against his hair, hand coming up to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. The longer Tim was slumped into his hold, the further Dick’s hold grasped on, like a venus fly trap slowly closing in over its prey.

A phone notification had Dick moving his head away, an arm reluctantly pulling away. Soon after, Dick sighed something reluctant out, squeezing Tim briefly before pulling away, his touch lingering slightly.

“I’m sorry bud, there’s something I have to take care of, okay?” Dick inserted just enough sickly sweetness into his tone, a hand brushing against Tim’s cheek.

Tim nodded, watching as Dick finally pulled away and stood up, his weight releasing from the bed and making the space feel so empty.

When he got to the door, Dick turned back to give Tim a smile, filled with false reassurances and promises that felt like threats.

As the door shut, something felt off, something wrong with the routine he’d grown used to.

The door had two locks, the fingerprint one that was connected to what Tim assumed was the Manor power source. The other was a physical lock, locking from the outside and making an audible lock noise.

Tim might be going mad, might be hearing things but– Dick didn’t manually lock the door, right?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dick’s hands tingled, the feeling of Tim’s hair fresh in his memory. The boy looked better, skin less pale and cleaner than when he arrived.

So of course that's the moment Black Mask decided to break out of Arkham, and Dick being the only available person was ripped away from his baby brother. That might have just sealed the man's fate once and for all.

Still, the faster Dick could get this done, the more time he could spend with Tim before Jason started hogging him again.

There was lingering delight that resided in Dick’s heart, the image is Timmy being so soft and trusting in his arms making his heart ache. Dick wouldn’t ever let Tim be afraid of him again, not when they've gotten this far already.

He wasn’t looking forward to Jason being mad at him for pushing his boundaries, but it didn’t matter, everything worked in the end.

When Dick finally got into the cave, his eyes landed on Bruce, working on a case while keeping an eye on Tim. Jealousy curled in Dick’s gut suddenly, but he couldn’t quite place who he was jealous of.

“Tell me again why I have to clean up the streets while you stay here looking over the chick?” Dick hummed, leaning against the ledge that held the computer. Bruce’s eyes were sharp, even when he wasn’t wearing his mask, especially when he wasn’t wearing his mask.

No matter how old Dick got or how casually he said it, Bruce always seemed to see past his carefully strung words. “What are you asking me?”

Dick watched his father carefully, mouth staying shut. In all honesty, he didn’t know. It felt similar to when Jason had first arrived, but even then Dick had grown to be far more self controlled than he used to be, more mature.

Bruce stood up and stepped closer to Dick, a movement that might look intimidating for anyone else, but settled something in Dick’s mind. His hand reached out to rest on Dick’s cheek, a mirror image of how Dick had done to Tim.

“Chum,” He started softly, so gentle for a man that towered over his victims with frightening apathy. “You are my son just as much as Tim or Jason, I promise you. Each one of you needs a different level of care and I know right now Tim needs my constant supervision. I entrust you to go and deal with this not because I don’t trust you with Tim but because I trust you to handle Black Mask.”

Dick didn’t know when Bruce had gotten so good with words, but somehow lately he seemed to have the words for every situation, everything that pulled at Dick’s bitter heart.

Bruce smiled ever so slightly, looking down at his first born. “When you come home I’m sure you’ll be able to spend more time with your brother. He’s really warming up to you.”

His heart swelled, the idea of Tim curling up under his hugs only motivating him further.

“Thanks Dad.”

Bruce leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always, Chum.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Jason has never liked Black Mask. In fact, he was one of the rogues he hated the most. Of course, no one could really top the Joker, but it wasn’t like he was much of an issue anymore, Bruce made sure of that.

While Black Mask hadn’t personally harmed Jason too much in the past, he was still a criminal that killed innocent people for his own selfish gain. Those were the people he hated the most, the kind of person who would’ve shot him in the head when he was living on the streets just for the fun of the game.

Dick had Jason signed straight out of school, some home emergency going down or whatever excuse he’d made. Of course, the second he stepped into Dick’s car, his Robin suit was flung at his head.

Sure, Jason knew it must be a pretty bad situation if he had to be pulled out of school, but he didn’t think it would be this bad.

Black Mask was on a rampage, blowing up a government building with dozens of innocent workers inside. His demands were clear, he wanted his weapons back.

His last stint that got him thrown into Arkham, the drugs and weapons he’d been trading off taken by Gotham PD, a confiscation he evidently wasn’t happy with.

Jason wished it could've been as easy as finding him and beating him to death, but unfortunately for them they had to find the dozens of bombs Black Mask had installed around the city.

Really, what was with villains and bombs?

What should have been an hour long bust stretched on for two, then three hours. By the time Jason had disarmed his fifth bomb, the sun had fully set, darkness setting in and wrapping around him like an ominous and probably haunted blanket.

Great analogy Jason, absolutely riveting.

A text notification had Jason whipping his phone out.

Bruce: I’m going on patrol. Two Face has been spotted by Black Mask’s territory.

Jason: Are you sure? What about Timmers?

Bruce: He’ll be fine, Alfred is keeping the house in check.

Jason: Okay

Jason put his phone away with a sigh, worrying at his lip. He didn’t like this.

A whirring noise had Jason on his feet at once, head whipping around to find some weapon of mass destruction ready to squish him like a bug. But that’s not what happened, because instead of being blasted into smithereens by a lazor, the dim light above Jason went out with a crackle.

Apparently Gotham decided it just wasn’t cold or dark enough!

The building he was in was half crumbling, one of the exterior walls caved in from some battle Jason didn’t recall. It was easy for Jason to walk the few steps to the hole, looking out from the multi story building out at Gotham.

Like a sweeping motion, all the lights across the city went out. It sent a shiver down his spine, like an omen of bad luck.

Well, black out or not, Jason had to keep moving. Civilians were counting on him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Tim never liked the dark which was– ironic, to say the least. From how much time he spent stalking through dark alleys and rooftops, it didn’t make sense about his fear.

He always kept his bathroom light on at home, light spilling from the gap under the door. That was a habit that had quickly followed him here, a sense of familiarity in such a different place, so devoid of his home.

So when all the lights went off in his room? Tim froze, breathing picking up in a silent struggle to keep his wits.

Shadows flickered in the room from the light of the moon like Lady Gotham was laughing at him, mocking his fear. Tim felt cursed, like everything in this world was actively choking him into submission.

Despite the fear and panic, a noise rang out through the room, a noise that had Tim gasping in deep, strangled breaths.

Beep

The automatic lock beeped, and its screen turned off, the gentle whirring it always made now silenced, making the room feel more empty than ever.

Tim stared only for a moment before he flung himself off the bed, slamming full force into the door in his haste to get to it.

Dick hadn’t locked the door, and if there was a blackout then– But what if an alarm goes off and–

He didn’t let himself spiral, instead turning the handle.

The door swung open.

Tim stepped out of the room, peeking out. He half expected someone to come barralling towards him, to kill him for the audacity to try to leave.

His heart kicked up, a hope he hadn’t felt in so long sparking. No, he couldn’t hope yet, he had to get out of here first.

The Wayne manor was a maze of hallways and stairs, every next set of rooms looking the exact same way in the darkness of the night. Tim was just starting to think he’d be better off hiding in the manor itself with its endless halls and stretching shadows.

Finally, Tim stumbled into a much larger room, a giant platform with two winding staircases down to a foyer. It was beautiful, the chandelier seeming to glow in the moonlight filtering in through the big, framed windows. Each individual crystal shone like diamonds, probably were diamonds.

Tim’s heart leapt as he saw it, the two giant dark oak front doors.

He didn’t waste his time, didn’t even think about possible alarms as he raced down the stairs. He landed, running, almost crashing into those doors as well.

Lady Gotham smiled down on him when he finally opened the doors, unlocked.

Tim ran, ran as fast as his legs could take him. When Tim looked back, his eyes landed on the only window lit with flickering candlelight.

A figure, straight backed and head pointed directly at Tim. In his hand was a small device, phone sized.

Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred Pennyworth probably calling Batman about his escape–

Tim ran and didn’t look back again.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sweat beaded on Jason’s forehead, anxiety itching under his skin like cuddle pollen. His hands cradled the bomb, careful not to dislodge any of the wrong wires and set it off.

Dick had been quiet in his ears, only the sound of occasional mumbles coming through.

With the last snip, the bomb's interface froze, then flickered off completely.

Jason leaned back on his knees, ignoring the grime of the floor and just basking in the cool air of Gotham’s night without the impending threat of getting blown up.

“How are you going Little Wing?” Dick spoke, startling Jason slightly.

He cleared his throat, pressing a finger to his comms. “All finished, just cleared the last one on my side.”

Dick hummed, pleased. “Good. I just have one more to go. By the time you get to Black Mask’s location, I should be finished and there. Don’t go in without me.”

Jason stretched his arms up, body cramping from the distinct lack of patrols and training this week. His body wasn’t used to going from one to one hundred like Dick’s was.

His yawn was interrupted when Dick took in a sharp breath. Jason was immediately alert, his stomach twisting itself into knots. “Wing?”

“Security alert.” Dick’s voice went cold, it sent a shiver down Jason’s spine and he scrambled to grab his phone. “Priority shifted.”

The first notification on his phone, in big bold letters, sent Jason’s heart pounding.

[Protocol: Baby bird out of the nest]

Shit.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

He couldn’t go home, that would be the first place they’d look for him. He had to get to the city where he could blend in, fall back into the crowd.

Tim knew this path very well, by memory and without fail. Three years of stalking, watching and documenting. While it was his downfall, it was also his lifeline.

Tim thought the fresh air would be a relief to his lungs, to stop the burning. All it felt like now was the noose, coming back to choke and strangle him.

The rich in Bristol liked to act like they were so high and mighty, living far away from all the poor and starving people of Gotham main. They were wrong though, because at just ten, Tim had mapped out the perfect route to Gotham main in just half an hour.

It cut through restricted areas and forced him to go on a few rooftops, but it wasn’t long before Tim was sneaking in shadows, alleyway to alleyway.

Tim didn’t like the dark, didn’t like what happened the last time he’d been shrouded in darkness. But he didn’t have his camera now, no shudder to expose him to the family that caved heads in for a living.

But Tim also didn't have the clothes that hid him in that same darkness. His pants weren’t his size, tripping him up every second step and his red hoodie not blending into the blue and blacks of the city.

It made him feel watched, an itch on the back of his neck and crawling down his spine.

So quiet, everything was so quiet for a Gotham night, making Tim feel exposed.

Tim longed to call out for Superman, a hero that would hear and help him, but he also knew how the bats were. Every day another Gothamite called for Superman, and that was another day someone's chest was caved in. Whether Superman had been scared off by Batman or if Bruce had just Superman-ified the city, Tim probably wouldn’t ever know, not if he didn’t get out of this cursed city soon.

He didn’t have a sound plan, just hide away in any corner from sight until he was able to get out. The bats were possessive, he knew, there wasn’t going to be one foolproof plan that would work, just hopes and prayers.

Tim could admit he was paranoid, but he didn’t think the feeling of eyes on him wasn’t real. With his eyes on the rooftops, he neglected to watch the people on the street until he bumped into a tall figure.

Stumbling back, Tim cast a nervous look up at the man, terrified his eyes would meet with blue. The feeling of his throat tightening, making him feel nauseous.

Please don’t be blue, please don’t be blue, please don’t–

Brown.

A man with brown eyes.

“Sorry.” Tim mumbled, bowing his head again and moving to step around him. It wasn’t Dick. It wasn’t Bruce.

“Now hold on–” Tim's heart sank, the man’s slimy voice shooting fear into every vein in his body. “What’re you doin all alone kid?”

When Tim moved to run, to get the hell away from him, the man, so much taller and stronger than him, grabbed his arm, tight and burning against his skin, bruising his fragile skin.

The rope tightened around his throat like the noose it was, raising him off the ground, choking the life out of him. It was so much more painful than the carefully crafted collar the Bats had him bound with, safe but trapped and suffocating.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” He leered, bending closer to Tim’s face, the smell of alcohol on his breath. “Come over ‘ere Axel, I found a little lost thing…”

Nonono– oh please no–

Cold dread and nausea filled Tim, the feeling of vomit coating his throat. Tim didn’t even notice the other man just behind the first one, especially not now with the first man up in his face.

Over his three years avoiding kidnappers, traffickers and rapists, Tim had some close calls. Never once had he ever been touched.

The other man rounded the first man to look down at Tim, a dirty look that made Tim feel exposed and gross. “Aww, look at him, he’s crying.” he cooed.

Tim’s breath hitched, a tear rolling down his face. He hadn’t realised either, not with his body so frozen.

“Now what do you think a little thing like him is doing out when Black Mask’s around, huh?” The brown eyed man tightened his grip on Tim’s arm, nails digging past the material of his jumper.

“Well, doesn’t matter anyway.” The greasy looking blond man chuckled darkly, scrutinizing Tim. “He’s pretty, I’m sure we’ll get a good buck out of him.”

Traffickers.

The first man laughed. “Yeah? Can’t be more than eleven this one. Let's take a better look, shall we?”

Tim flinched away when he reached forward towards Tim’s face, eyes screwing shut, like it could protect him.

It wasn’t the man’s hand that made contact. No, it was a splatter of something wet right in time with a gurgle of pain.

Tim’s eyes opened to see the man fall, a knife lodged in his neck. His hand slipped away as he fell out of Tim’s sight.

Tim’s eyes didn’t follow him. No, he was too focused on the figure clad in red, green and yellow, a feeling of sick deja vu coursing through him.

Robin looked pissed.