Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tim Drake had his jaw clenched so hard that he was starting to think he was going to crack a tooth. 

For the past couple of months, Alfred had been inviting all of the members of the family back to the manor for dinner together. Everyone who was in town would come, and sometimes people like Kate Kane and the Fox family would tag along. Like most of Tim's life recently, this new family tradition linked back to Jason Todd-Wayne. Bringing Jason back into the fold had re-invigorated Alfred's efforts to keep the family together, resulting in family dinners.

After Jason had saved Tim's life, he had started living in the manor again. Tim had given express permission. Now, he was just a door down from Tim… which was fine! Completely fine. Jason had more than proven himself capable of change and had been doing really well. He had even painted his room a new, obnoxious shade of orange. It was a bit of an eyesore, but Tim figured that it wasn't nearly as bad as some of Jason's other forms of teenage rebellion. Bright orange was better than blood red. 

Tim and Jason actually got along pretty well. They had some common interests and similar senses of humor. They went on patrol together. Tim would crack jokes, Jason would make sarcastic, witty comments, and they would do their jobs. Admittedly, though, Tim didn't see Jason as his brother. 

They were siblings on a technicality—the whole "adoptive sons of Bruce Wayne" thing—but Tim didn't rely on him like he did on Dick. Tim didn't spend his free time with him like he did with Cass. They were more friends than brothers. On good days, Tim liked him and his company. On bad days… Tim just avoided being in the same room as him. Simple. From the looks of it, Jason had a similar policy regarding Tim. They just… existed in orbit with each other, the Titan Tower incident forgiven but not forgotten.

There was only one hiccup to Jason being home: it was slightly difficult to calm down after a particularly vicious night terror about being beaten half to death when the person who did the beating was sleeping down the hall. The good news was that it wasn't a common occurrence anymore, not like in the weeks immediately after the attack. The bad news was that it still happened on occasion… including the night before a family dinner. 

In the nightmare, Tim had been in the Hall of Fallen Titans, curled up on the ground and beaten near to death. Familiar words fell from his lips… but unlike the first time, he had not passed out. He had been awake, unable to move or speak, as the rest of the Titans arrived back. 

The team didn't acknowledge him at all. 

They had walked right by him, as if he was just another suit on display. He had screamed and begged, but it was no use. They had all gathered in the center to talk about their latest mission when Tim saw combat boots near his head. 

"Forgotten… just like me, Replacement," the Red Hood had said, raising his gun to point it at Tim's head. "How fitting."

Then the gun had gone off, and Tim had woken, his clothes soaked from sweat and his head spinning. 

All that to say, having to sit across from Jason at the dinner table that night was torture for his already frayed nerves, and his jaw would be paying the ultimate price. Dealing with the  nightmare was bad enough, but having to hide how much it affected him from the family was worse. The entire table was full of the best detectives in the world, and he really didn't feel like answering any questions.

There was one person in particular that Tim was worried about. A glance over at Cass confirmed that she was staring at him intensely, and Tim cursed internally. Cass's role in the family was not only 'favorite daughter,' but also 'walking lie detector machine.' Her upbringing meant that body language was her first language. She could tell instantly when someone was lying… Well, lying with intent. If a person was convinced they were telling the truth, she would think they were, too. 

Tim made a concentrated effort to loosen his jaw, hoping that he could play it off as just stress when she inevitably asked. Cass was pretty good about only pushing as far as Tim would go, but he still wanted to put her mind at ease. She was stressed out enough about a group of people hunting her, and Tim didn't want to make her worry about him on top of all of that. 

With that in mind, Tim forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand, hoping that it would distract him enough to help him appear put-together again. 

"How about you, B?" Jason was asking, lounging back in his chair with the ease that several months of being home had brought him. "You planning on taking 'Brucie' out for a spin again anytime soon? I'm sure the tabloids miss their darling."

"Ha ha," Bruce deadpanned, taking a sip of his drink. "I'll have you know, I'm planning on going to the fundraiser gala for the Gotham Museum of Antiquities later this week."

"Classy," Steph said, nodding her head. "I'm wondering how many scandals we'll be waking up to the next morning."

"Forget waking up, they'll probably start rolling in before we even go to bed," Dick chimed in. 

Bruce just rolled his eyes, the uptick of the corners of his mouth alone betraying his smile. In all his time as Robin, Tim had never seen Bruce quite so happy as he had been the last couple of months. Something about Jason being back home had made him happier than Tim's presence ever had—

Tim groaned internally to himself at that train of thought. It was ridiculously insecure, and he was better than that. Still, there was a tight feeling that settled into his chest at the thought, and he took a very subtle deep breath in an attempt to disperse it. 

"Five bucks says he falls into at least one fountain," Tim piped up.

"Oh please," Bruce started, tilting his head. "I'm a billionaire… no son of mine is throwing around small bills. Bets in this house start at a hundred."

There was a chorus of chuckles around the table, and Tim found himself smiling, too. The knot in his stomach loosened a little bit, and he let warmth spread through his chest. It was silly to get so upset over his insecurities. Of course Bruce was happier now that he had all his sons with him: it would have been weirder if he wasn't. There was no point for Tim to indulge in self-pitying thoughts when everything was finally going right for their family. 

Everyone dispersed after dessert, while Tim stayed to help Alfred with the dishes. It was one of their oldest traditions together. Tim had struggled to accept offers to stay for dinner in the beginning, claiming that he didn't want to be an inconvenience. Alfred had said that he could use some help with the dishes, but only if Tim had a good meal first. Tim didn't realize for several more months that Alfred had played perfectly into his desire to be helpful to get him to stay and eat. Still, Tim enjoyed their time together, so he continued to help. 

He had nearly forgotten about Cass's questioning glances during dinner, up until he stepped out of the kitchen and came face to face with her. 

"Hey," Tim said, and she tilted her head. 

"What's wrong?" she signed, and he shrugged. 

"Just a rough night, nightmares, you know how it is," Tim replied, shrugging nonchalantly. 

She gave him a deeply appraising look, until his skin started to crawl under the scrutiny. 

"You're hiding something, but you will not talk about it," she noted, and he shifted awkwardly on the spot, just grateful that it wasn't going to turn into an interrogation. "Let's train together before I leave for my trip."

Cass and Steph were going to Hong Kong together to track down the people giving Cass a rough time. Tim had helped put the case file together and had really wanted to go with them. Unfortunately, Tim still had to go to high school—something Steph was spared from on account of still being legally dead since the whole Black Mask Incident, and recently turning eighteen. 

"Sure, sounds great," Tim responded, following her down to the Batcave. 

As it turned out, Cass knew what Tim needed better than he did. The sparring was great at helping him to release some of the tension that had built up in him since the nightmare, and it also provided a great opportunity to spend some time with Cass before she left. Tim was feeling far better when he stepped off the mat. 

He was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm, and he turned to face Cass again. Her eyebrows were pinched in concern, and Tim could tell she was debating what to say next. Shortly after, she started to sign. 

"Text me if you need to talk," she insisted, and Tim shrugged. 

"Don't worry about me, Cass," he said, smiling a bit. "Everything will be alright."

~~~

Tim was jealous that Jason had passed out after getting pulled from the collapsed building. Jason got to sleep peacefully through everyone's fretting. Tim was unlucky enough to be conscious for it. 

Bruce hadn't left either of their sides. He had allowed Dick—of all people, Dick Grayson—to drive the Batmobile so he could sit with Tim and Jason in the back on the way home. Once they got to the Batcave, he had hovered closely over Alfred's shoulder as he tended their wounds. He had only left for a couple minutes when Alfred pointedly suggested a shower. Afterwards, Bruce came back to make small talk with Tim, occasionally glancing over to check the rise and fall of Jason's chest. 

Tim could feel the conversation coming before it started. 

"He can stay," Tim said before Bruce could finish opening his mouth. 

"Tim… are you sure?" 

It was a good question. The Red Hood had beat Tim within an inch of his life a few months ago, yeah… but Tim was in control of himself and his emotions. He set the pace now, and he had decided that the family needed to be whole again. Pushing down any of the useless emotions begging him to stop talking, Tim shrugged and started to explain. 

"I would be more upset if you guys just sent him home to recover from all of that alone after he saved my life," Tim insisted, arms crossed stubbornly. "He jumped in front of a bullet for me, B. It's clear he's made some strides. I feel safe with him around." 

Bruce nodded, then turned to face the corner. 

"Telling the truth," Cass said, making Tim jump nearly out of his skin. 

Her ability to go completely unnoticed in a completely lit up room was bordering on meta-human. Tim was convinced they should have her tested. 

"Jesus, Cass," he muttered, gripping his heart. 

Bruce smiled at his daughter's antics, then turned back to Tim.

"I'm glad you feel safe, kiddo." 

Bruce fell asleep not after, but not before asking Alfred to get Jason's room prepared. He was sitting there with his neck at an awful angle, chin to chest, and yet Tim didn't think he had ever seen Bruce quite so relaxed. 

Tim felt a warmth spreading through his chest. He had finally done it. The crusade he had taken up years ago to take care of Batman and protect Gotham had finally come full circle. It may have cost him his health, but Jason was back and getting better. Bruce had all his children under one roof again.

Sitting in that bed, the adrenaline of the previous night gradually leaving him as he picked up his tablet, Tim finally felt like he could make himself move on. 

~~~

Tim hated the fact that he still had to go to high school. He especially hated it when he was assigned an extra research project, and had to start patrolling later so he could finish it before the midnight deadline. Naturally, Tim decided to take advantage of the six different monitors in the Batcave so that he could have as many tabs as he needed open. 

He was sitting at the Batcomputer when he heard the sound of the Batmobile entering the cave. His heart jumped for a second, and he found himself checking the clock to make sure that he had not lost track of time and missed his check in with Bruce—or the assignment's deadline. The blinking digital numbers read 21:13, which was well before he had planned to head out. Assuming something had gone wrong, Tim got up to investigate. 

"Hey, B, you're back early…" Tim started to say as Bruce stepped out of the car, but he stopped short as the other door opened.

There was a child, no older than ten, getting out of the Batmobile. The boy had a middle eastern complexion, blue eyes, and dark black hair that was slicked back in the same style that Tim's parents used to insist he wore to events. He had a deep scowl set into his young face, which seemed to worsen as he made eye contact with Tim. The glare would have been intimidating if it wasn't coming from a ten year old. 

"Robin—Tim," Bruce, still dressed in his Batman suit, said, "This is Damian. He'll be staying with us for a while."

Tim was relatively confident that the rate Bruce had started bringing home children to adopt had become unhealthy. There had been ten years between Dick and Jason, but after that, Cass, Tim, and this new kid had come in relatively quick succession. He was starting to think they needed to look into some support groups.

Swallowing down some unidentifiable emotion that felt vaguely uncomfortable, Tim decided to be friendly. 

"Hey," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. "How are ya?"

The kid continued to glare at Tim, not making a move to shake his hand. Tim saw Bruce sigh in exhaustion from where he was watching, and figured that this kid would be… difficult. That was alright. He would just have to take it easy on him. 

Still, he couldn't help himself when presented with an opportunity for a joke. He was Robin, after all. 

"Uhmm… in case you didn't know, you're supposed to shake it," Tim poked fun, and the kid scowled harder. 

"Don't patronize me, or I will break your face," the kid finally spoke, and Tim's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as his hand dropped. 

"Enough," Bruce grunted, grabbing Damian's shoulder and reorienting him so he was facing the stairs. "Alfred will help you unpack."

The kid put up a fight, but eventually stomped his little ten-year-old feet up the stairs. As he went, he started calling out expletives and being a level of rude to Alfred that had Tim angry on the old butler's behalf.

"Well… he's pleasant," Tim noted once the kid was gone, and Bruce's frown worsened as he pulled the cowl off his head to run his hand through his hair. 

"According to Talia, he's my son," Bruce admitted, and Tim felt his stomach drop down to his feet. "I just met him for the first time. I'm still… dealing with it." 

"Your son. As in, like… biologically?" 

Bruce moved away to the Batcomputer, bringing out a small sample of blood and feeding it into the computer. "I'm testing that now." 

"You can't be entertaining this, there's no way it's possible," Tim said instantly. Bruce just sighed, and Tim could feel a headache coming on. "Is it possible?"

Bruce just continued to stare at the screen, and Tim felt his face scrunching up. Bruce wasn't responding. That meant that… 

"It is possible… ew, gross," Tim groaned, and Bruce gave him an exasperated look. "How could you not know?" 

"She told me she miscarried, all those years ago," Bruce responded, his voice quiet, and the words that Tim had planned to say next died in his throat. 

"Oh," Tim said simply. 

He was saved from responding further by a beeping on the Batcomputer, as the results came back. Sure enough, Damian was Bruce's biological child. Something heavy settled in Tim's chest, and he found himself swallowing thickly. 

"So, uh, I guess he's here to stay, then?" Tim asked.

"Talia said something about Ra's al Ghul wanting to hurt him, so she's sending Damian to live with us," Bruce explained, his eyes not leaving the results on the screen. 

"Right," Tim said, shifting back and forth on his feet.

There was a notification then, and he pulled it up. 

"Uh, Gordon just hit the Batsignal… I'm getting a report that the Spook is holding the mayor hostage," Tim said, and Bruce finally tore his eyes away from the screen. 

"Right, right," Bruce said, straightening his back. "I can handle that, if you don't mind patrolling alone tonight." 

"You don't want me there?" he asked, trying to tamper down on his disappointment. 

"I just need some time to… process things," Bruce explained, heading back to the Batmobile. 

Tim nodded a couple of times, speaking through a sudden pain in his throat. "Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure, I can handle patrol." 

"Great, thank you," Bruce said, then got into the Batmobile and left. 

Tim had a feeling that things were about to change a lot, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it. 

~~~

The vibes in the mansion were… off. 

Tim had started patrolling again, which meant the hovering should have reached an all time high. That made it all the more noticeable when members of the family who would have smothered Tim previously were suspiciously absent for long periods of time. 

Tim knew where they were going. 

He knew that as Jason improved and opened up more, it had to be getting more and more difficult for everyone to divide their time. Dick would slip up in conversation every so often, talking about how he and Jason had spent some time together, then look at Tim with shame as if Tim hadn't given his express permission for them to see him. It was starting to get on his nerves. 

He was so tired of being treated like he was some fragile thing. He liked to think it had actually taken Jason some effort to break as much of him as he did, thank you very much. He had put up a fight! He hadn't backed down! Yet everyone was treating him like some snot nosed ten year old that had broken an arm for the first time.

Tim had lived through just as much as the rest of them, despite being the youngest. He was so sick of them tiptoeing around him. 

Naturally, he came to the conclusion that there was some sort of energy that he was still projecting about Jason that was making them think he was more hurt than he was… which he wasn't. Totally wasn't. He had pretty much gotten over it already. The nightmares were no longer nightly… they weren't even weekly. 

So, he tightened up. He started asking how Jason was doing himself, and started seeming more invested. It wasn't even entirely an act. The idea of Jason was easier to comprehend than the actual man. Hearing about him in conversation was easier than seeing him in person. Now, though, since he had gotten through this step, it would be easy enough to get to that point. If he kept this up, maybe the rest of the family wouldn't feel so torn between the two of them. If he convinced himself, he would convince them, too. 

It had nothing to do with the voice whispering in the back of his head that if he kept making them choose, that eventually they would stop choosing him. Nothing at all. 

~~~

The filthy Gotham air had done Tim some good in the way that only people born and raised in the smog could understand, and he ended his patrol with a clearer mind. Having a biological kid show up, especially after being told that the kid had died before ever even being born, was a lot to handle. Bruce just needed the time to collect himself. As for Damian and his initial aggression… Well, the kid had been raised by assassins, a lot like Cass. He was just… expressing that hurt differently. Surely, once he felt more at home, he would be less prickly. 

Tim sent Jason—the only person available—a quick text asking him to take over patrol, then decided to head back to the manor to try again with Damian. The kid in question was training in the Batcave when Tim got back, making his job much easier. 

"Hey, Damian," Tim greeted as he walked in. "Sorry about earlier, didn't mean to upset you. I imagine you're having a rough day." 

"I am perfectly capable of managing such a large transition," Damian insisted, and Tim just shook his head placatingly. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, trying his hardest to come across as sincere. "You know, you don't have to train alone. We can spar if you want. I know we got off to a bad—" 

Damian turned around, and Tim saw that he had an actual sword in his hand. 

"Woah, where did you get that sword?" Tim asked, then looked around. "Did Alfred let you down here?" 

"The servant left his fingerprints on the keypad," Damian said, glaring at Tim. "It wasn't hard to work out the combination." 

"Yeah, B is definitely your dad," Tim acknowledged. "Still, we should probably check in with Alf—"

It was only Tim's lightning fast reflexes that allowed him to dodge the incoming attack. That sword would have taken off his head. 

"Hey, whoa," Tim exclaimed, his brain struggling to process what was happening. "What the hell was that? We don't aim to kill here, and especially not during training!" 

"In the League of Assassins, we showed our enemies no mercy," Damian said, staying in a fighting stance. Alarm bells started to ring in Tim's head. "We killed anyone that stood in our way. Now that I am here, father doesn't need a surrogate son." 

Tim was struck by fear then, anxiety lodging itself in his chest. Where was Alfred? Had he gotten in the kid's way? During his momentary lapse in concentration Damian leapt forward, and Tim had to dodge several more swipes. Seeing an opening in Damian's form, Tim kicked him backwards. 

"Where is Alfred? What have you done to him?" Tim asked, finally preparing to fight… not too hard, though. He was not about to put all his effort into a fight with a ten year old. That felt wrong. 

"You'll never know," Damian insisted, turning and jumping up to the top of the dinosaur. 

Of course, the kid probably thought that he was going to lure Tim onto the high ground, then attack him when he followed. Damian didn't know how dangerous the thing was. Groaning internally, Tim fired his grapple and swung up, knocking Damian off balance and sending him tumbling towards the teeth. Unfortunately, that triggered the trap, and it started to move like it was going to bite Damian in half. 

"Here, grab my hand before the jaws close," Tim insisted, pulling the kid up to safety before he could be injured. 

Tim took a couple deep breaths to compose himself. He decided to play a little game of 'what would Dick do,' considering that was his only real reference for older brothers. Dick would masterfully talk the kid down, that way he could figure out what had happened to Alfred. Tim decided to try and do that, kneeling in front of Damian so they could be eye level. 

"C'mon, get a grip, kid," Tim said firmly. "Why are you acting like this?" 

"Because you don't deserve any of this," Damian insisted, still glaring at Tim. "You're adopted! But when you're gone, I'll take my rightful place at my father's side, as Batman's son!"

Tim was too taken aback by what Damian was saying to counter the attack that came next. Damian hit oddly hard for a ten year old, and suddenly Tim had a headache and the ground was approaching oddly fast.

Wait, not the ground. The display cases—

There was a crash, then a moment of silence, and then searing pain. Tim must've blacked out on impact, because he came back around laying in a pool of his own blood with a splitting headache—which was a sensation he was far too familiar with at seventeen years old. Upon further inspection, he found that he had been nearly skewered on some broken glass from the case. 

Something like fear settled in Tim's chest. He had no idea what had happened to Alfred. Dick was in Bludhaven. Cass and Steph were out of the country. He had taken his communicator out to charge when he got back, so he couldn't even call for Babs. Jason wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. Batman was still taking care of the Spook situation. That meant that Tim was alone. 

It wasn't an experience he was used to. Granted, he had done missions alone, but he had never been completely out of contact. He almost always had someone listening in. Even if none of the Bats were available, all he had to do was whisper Kon's name and he would have been right there…

"No, don't think about him," Tim admonished himself, gritting his teeth. "Fucking… all Damian's fault. Little homicidal brat… takes after his mother and grandfather."

Tim clenched his fist, then started to mentally catalog his injuries. 

Fortunately, none of his bones felt broken. There were several nasty gashes along his entire body where the glass had pierced the suit, but the only one that was bleeding particularly bad was the one on his side. 

Unfortunately, Tim realized very quickly that redistributing his weight incorrectly would mean a thousand more bleeding cuts. With a grunt, he managed to slip his arm under himself to hold the worst wound shut. It was a good idea in theory. In practice, he blacked out again. 

Tim only came back to himself to the sound of his name being shouted. 

"Tim!" Bruce shouted, and Tim felt as gentle hands started to lift him off the glass. 

"B…" Tim managed to say, biting his tongue to stop himself from crying out at the sudden movement. 

"Hang on," Bruce said, gently pulling Tim closer to him.

"S'okay… I stopped the bleeding…" Tim murmured.

He felt Bruce tense up under him. 

"You did this!" Bruce shouted, and Tim finally looked up to see that Damian was standing there… in a Robin costume. 

Tim's heart stuttered, and for one, sinking second, he imagined the worst. He would later blame that moment of weakness on the blood loss.

"He is my rival," Damian insisted. "He's not your real son. I am! It's my right to replace him." 

There was that word again. Replace. Replacement. 

"Do you think you're that good now?" Jason had asked, punching Tim so hard something broke and his head snapped into the floor. "Do you really, Tim?"

Tim felt distinctly nauseous all of the sudden. He closed his eyes to try and dispel the memories rushing at him, but he couldn't. They just kept coming and coming and coming—

"—Tim?" 

Tim forced his eyes open, to find that Bruce was looking at him again. 

"Tim, can you walk?" Bruce asked, and Tim nodded. 

"... sure, I…" Tim started as Bruce pulled him to his feet, but quickly let out a groan as his legs failed him. 

"It's how I was taught!" Damian screamed after them, apparently content to keep arguing with the wall.  

"B… He… he did something to Alfred…" Tim managed to say. 

Then whatever consciousness Tim had left slipped away from him, and he passed out for the third time.

The next time Tim woke up, it lasted for more than a couple minutes. Naturally, that meant his body immediately went into fight mode. He was halfway out of the bed before he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see Bruce, who was gently attempting to coax him back into the bed. 

"Take it easy, Tim." 

"How am I supposed to take things easy when your homicidal son just tried to murder me?" Tim asked incredulously. "And he hurt Alfred! Is he alright? Where is he?"

"The homicidal son in question is being strictly supervised in his room and Alfred is perfectly fine," Bruce assured Tim. 

Apparently, Alfred had just been locked in a closet. Tim was shocked Damian even managed to get the upper hand on the old butler, but the kid was full of surprises.

"And you're just… okay with the kid being here?" Tim asked, incredulous. "He threatened Alfred. He tried to kill me."

 "What else am I supposed to do, Tim?" Bruce asked, rubbing his face. "I can't just send him back to the League. Even if Talia wasn't suddenly worried about Ra's trying to hurt him, he has scars no kid should have, mental and physical. He's been broken down and molded his entire life to think a certain way. I can't send him back into an abusive situation."

"But, he… it's not safe," Tim insisted, and Bruce sighed heavily. 

Heavy sighs like that usually meant annoyance, in Tim's experience. He felt extremely embarrassed all of the sudden. 

"At his core, Damian is just a kid who wants to impress his father," Bruce said. "He doesn't know any better. I can't just send him away. I can't reject him like that. Imagine what that would do to him."

Imagine what having him here will do to me, Tim wanted to shout.

Instead, he swallowed down the lump in his throat. Bruce was already stressed. There was no point in adding to it with his whining. 

"Alright," Tim murmured, and Bruce rubbed his knee through the blanket. "Sorry, I just… it was a lot."

"It's alright, kiddo," Bruce assured him. "I'll be keeping a much closer eye on him from now on. And, Tim? This doesn't change anything. You're just as much my son as Damian is… so are Dick and Jason. Cass is just as much my daughter. It has nothing to do with blood." 

The thing was… logically, he knew Bruce was telling him the truth. He knew that Bruce loved him, and that he was his son. Bruce had put that watch Tim had gotten him for father's day—the one Tim broke fighting bad guys before he could even give it to him—on display and smiled every time he looked at it. Still… there was a voice in the back of his mind that always tried to convince him that it was all a lie. That one day, Tim would wake up and he would be alone in the world. 

Tim couldn't escape the feeling that Damian's arrival had brought that day closer.

How many more times would Bruce allow redemption to someone who hurt him? How many more people would Tim have to smile politely at in the halls while remembering their sneers? How many more screams would Tim have to swallow down after his nightmares, lest he upset the people that gave them to him?

Tim couldn't reconcile Bruce's words with his actions. 

He didn't say any of that, though. No, he didn't want to make things worse by being dramatic about it. The feelings would go away eventually; they always did. 

~~~

Tim was excited to finally be getting the stupid casts off. He hated healing from injuries, and he was so glad that he was finally regaining some of his range of motion. Bruce was sitting next to him, watching intently as Leslie used her circular saw to take off the cast. 

Tim scrunched his nose at how hairy his arm had gotten. It was kind of gross. 

"Acquired localized hypertrichosis," Leslie had answered when his curiosity got the better of him. "Happens because of stimulated blood flow and increased moisture levels." 

Leslie left them with the standard mobility exercises to get his arm and leg strength back, but she didn't have to stick around long. The Bats were very familiar with injury recovery, and she knew that. 

Afterwards, Bruce treated Tim to junk food for dinner, with Alfred politely pretending not to notice. It was in the car after they had eaten that Tim mentioned the elephant in the room. 

"So, how long until I can get back to patrolling?" Tim asked, and the corner of Bruce's mouth quirked up. 

"That question took you longer to ask than I expected," Bruce admitted, then sighed. "Give it a month, and you can come out to patrol, but no fighting. And definitely never alone." 

"Not even like… a little bit of fighting?" 

"Tim." 

"Fine, fine… I'll just follow you around and twiddle my thumbs while you have all the fun." 

"Exactly, glad you understand," Bruce responded, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

There was a moment of heavy silence until Bruce spoke again. 

"I know we haven't talked about this much, but I'm very proud of you," Bruce started, and Tim could tell that being emotionally vulnerable like this was taking every ounce of energy he had. "Both what you've done as Robin and what you've done as Tim." 

"Careful, don't want you to strain yourself and pull an emotional muscle," Tim joked as an attempt to mitigate some of the embarrassment he felt from the blatant praise.

Bruce smiled sadly, recognizing the attempt at humor for what it is. "I mean it, Tim. You've had a rough couple of years, but you've handled everything pretty well." 

Yeah, Tim had developed a sleeping disorder, a general sense of dread, and a fear that one day he would wake up and be alone in the world… but he had also really refined his ability to handle all of those things by shoving them down so far that they just… went away. So Bruce wasn't wrong, he was handling things well. He was glad Bruce had noticed. 

"Thanks, B," Tim said, smiling slightly. 

And if there was a part of him screaming for B to notice that he was lying to himself and all of them? Well, it was only right for that part to get silenced, too. 

~~~

There were two defining traits that Jack and Janet Drake had instilled into Tim from a young age. 

The first was independence. Tim had spent most of his childhood either at boarding schools or staying home alone, taking care of himself while his parents were on digs. Babysitters and nannies they hired had a tendency to walk off with artifacts, so it was the smartest idea to teach Tim how to watch himself. As a result, Tim was well versed in handling his problems on his own, without any sort of intervention. He even preferred it that way. 

The second was his ability to read a room. When his parents got home from a trip and they were tired, Tim knew better than to ask them to come look at his photos. When they were stressed from a deal gone south, Tim knew he would just have to take care of dinner for himself for the night. There was no point to stressing them out further, especially when he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. 

Those traits became very helpful in the first couple weeks of Damian living at the manor. 

The Wayne family had been balancing on a thin wire ever since Damian's arrival. Dick had reacted pretty poorly, even by Tim's standards. Apparently, around the time Damian would have been… conceived… Talia helped kidnap Dick as a test of Bruce's detective abilities. Naturally, that left Dick with a bit of a sour taste in his mouth about the whole thing. Jason, who had his own reasons for hating the al Ghuls, was similarly displeased. 

Bruce was stressed out all the time, and Tim really didn't want to make it worse. Pretty much all of Bruce and Alfred's energy was dedicated to making sure that Damian didn't hurt others or himself, which was very hard against a child trained from birth to make people hurt. They were making gradual progress, but neither of them had the energy to handle Tim's feelings on top of everything else.

It took some effort, but Tim pushed all his bitter feelings about Damian to the back of his mind to keep some of the pressure off of Bruce. It wasn't like it would do any good to go around throwing a fit because Tim was upset by the presence of a ten year old assassin. Granted, the kid was definitely an asshole… and at that moment, he was making things particularly difficult. 

"You are an incompetent fool, Drake," Damian was saying, spitting out Tim's last name like it was some dirty word. 

Ten years old, Tim reminded himself over and over again. Tim was seventeen, he didn't need to be having beef with a ten year old. It was weird. 

Not unlike an eighteen year old beating up a sixteen year old for stealing Robin from him—

Tim's eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't sure where that thought came from. He mentally shook himself to clear his thoughts, then turned his attention back to Damian. 

"Literally all I'm doing is watching TV," Tim responded, keeping himself perfectly composed. 

"You are a stain on Father's reputation, laying around and doing nothing like this," Damian insisted, and Tim just rolled his eyes internally. 

"Training every hour of every day is bad for your body," Tim responded simply, and Damian puffed up his chest. 

"I trained for every hour of every day, and my body is in peak form—" Damian insisted. 

"You're ten." 

"—and my mind is equally sharp, because between physical conditioning, I was also receiving tutoring." 

The smug superiority made Tim want to groan outloud, but he kept it to himself. There was no point in getting frustrated. That would mean that Bruce had two difficult children to deal with, and Tim didn't want to be difficult. He didn't want Bruce to have to deal with his kids fighting again—

The sound of his own bones snapping, the sickening realization that it was Jason, Jason was back, Jason was hurting him, why was Jason hurting him?

Tim blinked rapidly again, taken aback by the strong memories flooding over him.

"Have I overwhelmed your inadequate intelligence, Drake?" Damian mocked him, and Tim was about to open his mouth to scold the kid when someone else did it for him. 

"Damian Wayne," Bruce said from the door he had just entered, and Damian snapped to attention… which was a concerning habit, Tim was aware. "I have stated time and time again that you are not to talk to your brother like that." 

"He's not my brother!"

"Strange, I thought that was what both of you being my sons meant," Bruce responded with that hint of sarcasm he reserved for when his children were being particularly frustrating. "Go find Alfred, he needs your help in the garden." 

"The garden?" Damian asked, his voice something akin to a whine, and Bruce hummed in affirmation. 

Bruce had struggled with punishments for Damian in the beginning. There was no point in grounding a child who was already not allowed to leave the manor. Yelling was an absolute no, of course, and there was little else that could be done without accidentally putting the murder child in proximity of a sharp object. Alfred's suggestion of garden work had been an instant success. Damian loathed it, but had yet been able to find a way to turn it into a deadly activity for the others around him. Tim gave it another week before he did, though. 

"The garden," Bruce confirmed. "Go on, have fun." 

Damian stomped out of the room, and Bruce let out a deep sigh once the kid was out of hearing range. 

"Thanks, B," Tim said, finally composing himself. 

"Of course," Bruce responded, coming to sit on the couch. "You're really good with him, you know? Out of everyone, you've definitely handled this transition the best." 

Of course he was. He was handling it perfectly, just like he handled everything. There was no problem because Tim didn't let there be a problem. Someone had to keep everything together, and there was no reason for it to stop being Tim now. 

"He requires a specific touch… Dick's too soft, and Jason's too harsh with him," Bruce continued. 

"Let's find out how tough you really are," Jason had said to him, Tim's bo staff in his hands, and Tim knew no one was coming to save him—

Tim was momentarily stunned by the memory, but recovered quickly.

"Yeah, well… maybe I'm the best of both of them," Tim joked, attempting to mask the way he was unsettled by the flashback. 

It was strange. Tim probably couldn't have remembered that moment of the attack if he had tried, with so much of it repressed. Yet, for some reason, it had chosen that moment to come back to him. It was frustrating. 

Bruce didn't seem to notice Tim's internal turmoil, but that made sense. Tim was very convincing.  

"Speaking of them, I actually… I wanted to float something by you," Bruce said, and Tim furrowed his eyebrows. 

"I mean… yeah, sure," Tim said, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"You've been Robin for four years now," Bruce pointed out, and Tim nodded. "I was just wondering if maybe… you've given any thought to what will come after Robin?" 

Tim froze. "After… Robin?" 

"Yeah… like how Dick became Nightwing, and Jason became Red Hood," Bruce mentioned, and Tim's chest seized. "Though I know both of their transitions were… less than ideal." 

Tim tried to fight, he did, but Jason was stronger and his punches hit harder, and soon he was ripping the Robin emblem off of Tim's chest—

"Why are you asking me this?" 

Bruce rubbed the back of his head. 

"You're good at what you do, Tim," Bruce assured him. "You can't be my sidekick forever. It's not fair to you. Besides… I think that being able to get out and help people may help Damian, when he's ready." 

Tim only took one thing away from that little speech: Bruce was going to make Damian Robin. 

For a second, it felt like everything stopped. After all of the hard work Tim had put in, Damian was just going to get the mantle for free. All of the tireless nights spent training and the cold shoulders he had to endure meant nothing. He was being asked to just move on and give up the mantle like none of it mattered. Like Tim hadn't fought to be Robin. Like he hadn't suffered for daring to be Robin. 

"Do you think you're that good now? Do you really, Tim?"

Tim needed to pull himself together. It was no time for an outburst. He was in control of himself. He had mastered control of his own mind. 

"I'll give it some thought," Tim said simply, deflecting. 

Bruce gave him a small smile, clapping his shoulder. 

"Thanks, Tim," Bruce said, standing up. "I'm going to start getting ready for patrol. Join me?" 

"I'll be down in a bit," Tim said, his chest tightening. 

He needed to be alone. He needed to get away and he needed to be alone—

"Alright, see you then," Bruce said, leaving the room. 

Tim ran to the nearest bathroom, clawing at his chest as soon as he was alone. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? It was a simple biological function, it made no sense that he would lose control over it. 

Panic attack, his brain supplied, but that was ridiculous. 

It couldn't be a panic attack because nothing was wrong. Tim was fine, and he totally wasn't having flashbacks about Jason and the Tower, and he totally wasn't about to lose the one thing that connected him to the Wayne family to some spoiled, homicidal brat. 

Tim grabbed his own hair and tugged on it, seeking to ground himself with the pain. 

"You're fine," he muttered to himself. "You're fine. Everything is fine. Don't overreact. Don't be difficult. Just… just prove you still deserve it. Yeah. Yeah, just work super hard, and he'll remember why he let you be Robin in the first place… it'll be fine. Everything will be alright."

~~~

"Here you are, Master Tim," Alfred said, setting down a fresh cup of tea in front of Tim. "Sans your usual sugar, I'm afraid. That would negate all of the sleep benefits." 

"Thanks, Alf," Tim said, blowing on the top for a second before taking a sip, inevitably burning his lips anyway. 

Tim was exhausted… and not just physically. Granted, the casts were making it hard enough to sleep without the nightmares, and there were some itches he just couldn't scratch that were driving him nuts, but he could handle all of that. 

It was the mental exhaustion that was doing him in. He was so tired of being tired. 

He rubbed his eyes, setting down the teacup with a bit more force than necessary. 

"Master Tim?" Alfred inquired. 

"Sorry, just tired," Tim deflected. 

"You have been through quite a bit, Master Tim," Alfred reminded him for the millionth time. "These things take time." 

"Yeah, well, I want it to take a little less," Tim insisted, taking another burning sip of the tea. 

"There are some things that we simply don't have control over," Alfred said, and Tim frowned. 

Tim was tired of that, too. It was his own mind. He deserved to be in control of it. It was ridiculous that he wasn't allowed. He opened his mouth to say as much, but stopped suddenly. Alfred was rummaging around in the cabinets, but something was… off.

"Did you break up one of your tea sets?" Tim asked, and Alfred paused to look at him. "The cups with the little birds flying around the edges. There are a couple missing, they've been gone for a while." 

"Ah, yes. I gave away two of them." 

Alfred may have been painfully vague, but Tim's brain did the rest of the work. He happened to know that those specific cups had been Jason's favorites when he was a kid. It was no coincidence that two of them had disappeared around the time Alfred had started going to see Jason again. 

Everyone else was moving on, it seemed. Tim realized that he was going to have to move on faster if he wanted to keep up. 

~~~

"Hey Mom, hey Dad."

Tim was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top, at the beautifully maintained graves of Jack and Janet Drake. 

"Sorry, I know it's been a while," he admitted. "I just… I have a lot going on. It's been hard since you died."

Tim wasn't sure what had sparked the sudden intense desire to see his parents. He hadn't been the best son in terms of visiting. He wasn't sure he had been there since the day his father was laid to rest… and that had been months ago. Still, he now sat in front of their graves, hands picking at the grass and ripping it out of the earth to tear between his fingers. A cruel fate.

"Bruce Wayne took me in, but I think Dad at least knew that would happen. One of my best friends faked her death and came back. The other really died and didn't. Then Jason came back from the dead and tried to kill me… well, he beat the hell out of me. I don't think he wanted to kill me, but I thought he did when it was happening. Now he's living back in the manor, which is… an experience. Then, as if it couldn't get any worse, Bruce's biological son, or 'the blood son' as he keeps calling himself, is back living at the manor, and guess what? He actually tried to kill me, and nearly succeeded."

Tim scoffed. 

"But I'm handling it really well," Tim insisted. "So, I'm not really sure why Bruce wants to take Robin from me, but he does. He wants to give it to Damian. The thing is that if I'm not Robin… I don't know who I am. I don't know if I'm still part of the Wayne family. And I… I don't want to be alone."

Tim paused, shaking his head at himself. 

"I just… I don't know. I miss the two of you. I miss knowing who I am. I mean, you two were so busy all the time, but no matter what, I was Timothy Jackson Drake. And now I'm not sure how long I'll be allowed to be Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Or Robin."

Tim paused for a second in ripping up the grass under his fingertips, pushing down memories of an empty house and missed holidays. There was no point thinking about that. 

"I wish you were here," he admitted quietly. "I wish I had you back. At least then I would know where I belong."

Tim looked up from the grass to the large, ornate headstone that marked the spot his parents now laid. The grass had grown over the grave, giving the illusion that the ground had never been disturbed. Tim knew better. He remembered. 

Tim remembered finding out his mother had died from the poison. He remembered finding his father bleeding on the floor. He remembered the cops and the morgue and the headstone being taken out to have the engraving finished then put back in and all evidence that his parents had ever even been there at all reduced to some stone and some memories.

Something similar had happened with Kon. He missed him. 

"Dunno why it had to be Jason," Tim finally admitted shamefully. "It's not that I don't want him back, it's just that… Why him and not you? Or Kon?"

Tim shook his head. 

"Stupid train of thought," Tim chastised himself, standing from his spot. "Anyway, sorry for not coming back before now. I'll try and visit more often. Love you guys." 

Tim didn't even get halfway to the bus station before getting a call on his phone. When he checked the caller ID, a genuine smile crossed his face for the first time in months. 

"Hey, Steph, how's Hong Kong?" Tim answered.

"The food's great, the scenery is beautiful, and the bad guys are falling like flies," she said casually, and Tim let out a little chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm not shocked," Tim said. 

"How've things been on the homefront?" Steph asked. "I heard through the grapevine that you've got a little brother now." 

"I've got a little pain in my ass, that's what I've got," Tim insisted with a huff, and Steph laughed. 

"Yeah, that seems to be the consensus," she agreed. "How're you holding up?" 

"Fine," Tim answered, keeping himself from responding right away so it wouldn't seem suspicious. "Everything's fine. Kid's an asshole and he nearly killed me, but that's not exactly news in this family." 

There was a brief pause, and Tim got the sense that Steph had not taken his statement as lightheartedly as he wanted her to. 

"Tim… are you sure you're alright?" 

Tim sighed, and realized that she wouldn't believe him if he tried to say he was fine again. Instead, he… adjusted his strategy. 

"He's got me a bit on edge," Tim said, hiding the depth of the issue. "I'm handling it, but… he's setting out to make our living situation as toxic as possible." 

There were a couple seconds where it seemed like Steph was debating her next words. 

"Fuck it, come join our girls trip in Hong Kong." 

Tim smiled in spite of himself. "I have high school, remember? B will lose it if I skip school."

"Eh, B has forgiven worse," she reminded him. "Pretty sure Dick took the Batmobile out for a joyride once and crashed it."

Yeah but that was Dick… B would love him no matter what. Tim wanted to say. He didn't. 

Besides, they both knew a crashed car wasn't the worst thing Bruce had forgiven his sons for. 

"That's because Dick can't drive," Tim pointed out, and Steph snorted. "I swear to god getting into a car with him makes me feel like those fish that that little bitch shakes in Finding Nemo, set to 'Toxic' by Brittney Spears."

Steph's snort turned to a full blown laugh at that. 

"Jesus Christ Tim, the way your mind works is fascinating," she said afterwards, and Tim couldn't tell if it was a compliment or insult. 

"Thanks," he said anyway. 

"Still, I'm serious about Hong Kong if you need to get out of the house," Steph reminded him. 

"Nah, sorry," Tim said, feeling a pang of disappointment. "Not all of us are legally dead. Bruce will get a strongly worded letter from the state if I miss too many days."

"Hm, touché," Steph replied. "I guess only a couple of us have that honor." 

Tim hummed in agreement. "So, what else has Dick told you about the kid?" 

"Dick?" Steph asked. "He's not the one who's been updating us. Jason's been the one texting us play by plays of most interactions." 

"Oh… that makes sense," Tim said, pushing down an uncomfortably tight feeling in his chest. "Ah, my bus just got here, I've got to go." 

The bus was still five minutes out, but it was as good of an excuse as any. 

"I can't believe your dad is the richest person on the east coast and you still take the bus," Steph joked. "Seriously though, if you need to talk or anything, just call me. You know I've always got your back."

Tim smiled again, though it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "Yeah, yeah I do."

~~~

When Steph walked into Tim's room, he could tell she picked up on his vibe immediately. 

Tim felt silly for feeling so betrayed, but he still did. Of all the people to join the whole "sneak out to meet Jason" club, he hadn't expected Steph. She had no relation to the guy. She had never known him. Unlike the rest of them, he wasn't family to her. Tim was family, and she had just gone to join everyone in hanging out with him. 

"Tim, talk to me," Steph demanded, and Tim talked, despite feeling ridiculous.

"I don't even know why you would want to talk to him," Tim said. "Everyone else I get, but he shouldn't mean anything to you. I thought that… I thought that you would be more mad at him on my behalf." 

"That's because I am," Steph insisted. "I didn't go to talk to him. I broke into his apartment to tell him that if he hurts you, I'm gonna put him back in the grave." 

Tim finally looked at Steph. 

"You broke into his apartment?" 

"It wasn't hard," she said, then gave him a gentle shove on his good shoulder. "I was upset seeing everyone cozy up to him, too. So, I went to tell him what I've been trying to convince you of for years… I'm always on your side, and if he crosses us to get at you, I'll make him wish he never came back." 

~~~

Tim could not fall asleep unless he locked his door anymore.  

It was a new thing for him. He had always been the type of person to keep his door closed, but he never felt the need to lock it. That was until the homicidal freak that had tried to kill him less about a month ago moved in down the hall. 

So, Tim had started to lock his door and put a vase in front of it. If someone wanted to get in while he was sleeping, they would have to pick the lock and avoid making a racket. Would that stop a trained assassin? No. It probably wouldn't even stop the average Bat. It just made Tim feel marginally safer in the irrational part of his brain that was making him so paranoid in the first place. 

'Marginally safer' wasn't enough to stop the nightmares.

It started like it usually did: Tim, wandering the hallways of Titan Tower. The Red Hood, gleaming red helmet, backing him into the Hall of Fallen Titans. Only this time they were above the hall, on the Batcave dinosaur. This time, Tim actually got the upper hand on Jason. For just a second, he could taste victory. 

Then he had turned around, and before he could move or react, he was being pushed off of the dinosaur by Damian and into a glass case dedicated to Jason, which Tim knew didn't actually exist in Titan Tower at the time of the attack… hence Jason's fury at being excluded from the Hall. 

Tim was laying on the ground, glass piercing his body, arm and leg broken, when a pair of familiar shoes passed through his peripheral. 

Bruce walked right past him, hands on the shoulders of Red Hood and Damian in a Robin costume—Tim's Robin costume. Dick was standing nearby in his Nightwing costume, but he didn't hear Tim's pleas to help him… or if he did, he didn't answer them. 

"I'm just so grateful to have all my sons under my roof again," Dream Bruce had said, as Tim laid bleeding out on the floor behind him.

"Please, I'm right here," Dream Tim had tried to scream, but found that he couldn't speak.

Bruce took Jason, Damian, and Dick and left the Hall right as it started crumbling around Tim, the ceiling falling in on him and burying him alive—

Tim woke up screaming. 

"Fuck," he muttered shakily, trying to take deep breaths. 

He had to get it together. If Tim let himself slip, the entire thing could come apart at the seams and Tim… Tim didn't know if he could survive the fallout from that. Without them, he was alone in the world, and that… that was unthinkable.

There was a knock at his door, and Tim groaned. Of course someone had heard him. He buried his burning face in his hands. 

"Hey, uh… Tim?"

Jason. As if things couldn't get any worse. 

"What?" Tim responded, loud enough that he could be heard through his door. 

"Can I come in?"

"One second," Tim groaned, dragging himself out of bed to unlock the door and move the vase. He opened it, taking a good look at Jason. The older boy looked tired in the sense that he seemed to have been up for a while already, sleep evading him. He was dressed in bright blue pajamas, his hair strewn about messily. It was Jason Todd in his most natural element… but just for a second, Tim could see the red helmet and that brown leather jacket, and his heart seized. 

Tim turned his back on Jason, moving to flop back down in his bed. He kept facing the window, so that he didn't have to risk seeing someone else—or worse, the same person from a different time—when he looked at him. There were a couple of hesitant steps, then a weight settling on the foot of Tim's bed.

"You alright?" Jason asked, his voice hesitant.

Tim almost wanted to laugh. Of course he wasn't alright, and Jason of all people shouldn't be asking. 

"Stupid question, I guess," Jason said after a couple moments of silence. Tim hoped he would leave, but he should have known better than to hope for anything. "I know Damian has been making things… difficult." 

Tim hummed in agreement, his jaw still clenched. 

"Real piece of work, isn't he?" Tim asked. "I mean, who does the kid think he is? The rest of us had to earn this, and he just showed up and started terrorizing the rest of us and has been welcomed with open arms."

There was a beat of silence, as if Jason was weighing his words heavily. 

"Tim, kid… you know Bruce isn't replacing you, right?"

Tim's stomach swirled and his heart pumped in his chest. Was that really what Jason thought this was about? Who was Jason to assume he knew what Tim was feeling? Tim didn't even know what he was feeling. Anger had bubbled right up to the surface, and Tim found himself biting out something mean before he could get control over his mouth. 

"Yeah, and you're the expert on that, aren't you?"

There was a beat of silence, and Tim simmered down a little.

"Um… okay," Jason said quietly, pain clear in his voice. Tim felt the weight shift as he stood up. "I'll just… Yeah. Goodnight, Tim."

Heavy footsteps sounded through the room, followed by the sound of a door opening and shutting heavily behind him.

Just another person driven away by your inability to keep it together, Tim thought to himself, groaning. 

"Stupid… everything is fucking fine…" Tim muttered to himself after a pause, stopping the tears through sheer force of will. "Jason doesn't know what he's fucking talking about, of course I'm not being replaced."

The next morning, Jason was nowhere to be found. When Tim asked, Alfred said that Jason had gone to stay at one of his old safehouses while working a case. Just when Tim thought it wasn't possible to feel any worse, the universe had proven him wrong. 

~~~

Tim snapped for the first time only two weeks after the incident. 

"Alright, will someone tell me what is going on?" Tim asked at the dinner table. 

Everyone had been awkward. Dick hadn't been able to make eye contact with him. The whole family had been tiptoeing around him, as if scared he was going to snap any second. Well, despite their best efforts, Tim did that anyway.

"I went to go see Jason," Dick admitted, and Tim felt like his entire world was stopping. 

"You went to go… see him?" Tim asked. "'See him' as in kicking his ass for me or 'see him' as in…" 

"Talking to him," Dick admitted. "He hadn't been seen in a couple of days, and I just wanted to make sure he was alright." 

"Oh, you wanted to make sure he was alright?" Tim repeated.

"Tim…" Bruce started, but Tim didn't let him continue. 

"No, I'm sure he's having such a hard time," Tim said sarcastically. "Poor thing must have really bruised his knuckles on my face. Can't imagine it was easy to get all of my blood out of his clothes." 

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence that followed after that. Cass just picked at her food, not looking at anyone. Dick and Bruce glanced at each other briefly, then Bruce spoke. 

"There is absolutely no excuse for what Jason did, Tim," Bruce assured him. "Dick only went to check on him because he disappeared from Crime Alley for three days, and we just… we had to make sure." 

"What you said rattled him… I think it snapped him out of whatever hate he's been holding onto, sent him into a spiral," Dick said. "And after everything I just wanted—needed—to see him alive. That's it. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't go back." 

"Oh," Tim said, the anger being tempered slightly by some confusing emotion he didn't know how to place. "Yeah, it… yeah. I don't like it." 

"Okay, then I won't go back." 

It took three more weeks for Tim to give them the okay to go see Jason. 

~~~

Tim had a solution to the nightmare problem: patrolling so much that on the rare occasion that he did fall asleep, he was so exhausted that he couldn't dream.

Bruce didn't have the mental bandwidth to stop him, as trying to deprogram his new little murder machine was already taking up all of it. Alfred was similarly occupied, dividing his time between helping with Damian and trying to keep Bruce from neglecting his own health. Jason had been avoiding Tim like the plague after his outburst, so he wasn't around to do anything. Dick was in Bludhaven working a case. Cass and Steph were still on their trip. Really, that left only one person in the way of his carefully crafted plan. 

"Patrolling again, Robin?" Bab's voice rang out through his comm, and Tim groaned internally. 

"Just picking up the slack while B handles the brat," Tim answered, just like he did every time they had this conversation. 

He could feel that this time would be different, though. Babs planned to follow this conversation through, and Tim really did not feel like doing that. His eyes scanned the streets, desperately looking for a distraction. He had never before been so grateful to see someone getting robbed. 

"Robin…" 

"Hey, I've got some robbers at my twelve, one sec'," Tim cut her off, flipping into battle and dispatching them quickly. "Oracle, mind getting police to 27th and Oak?" 

"Already on it," Babs responded quickly, and Tim zipped to the top of a nearby building to keep an eye on the situation. 

Once the cops had the robbers securely loaded in the back of a cop car, Babs spoke again. 

"Robin, I think you should turn in for the night," she insisted. 

"Can't yet, Oracle, still got some work to do."

"Yeah. Homework. Because you have school in the morning, and you need to focus on your grades."

"My grades are fine." 

"Really? Because I'm looking at them right now and this says that you're missing thirty-two assignments." 

Tim paused in his swinging, landing on a rooftop as he processed that. 

"Did you hack into my school's servers?" he half shouted, indignation burning in him. "What the hell, Oracle?" 

"Don't take a tone with me, Robin," Babs insisted. "I only did it because I'm worried about you." 

"What, so being worried about me is enough to warrant invading my privacy?" Tim asked. "What's next? Gonna hack my cellphone? Call B on me?" 

There was a short pause.

"About that…" Babs trailed off, and Tim rolled his eyes to the sky as he turned around. 

Standing there with his arms crossed was Batman, and Tim swore internally. 

"Robin," Batman said, voice gruff. "Get in the Batmobile." 

"B…" Tim started to say.

"Now." 

"Thanks, Oracle," Tim muttered sarcastically as he grappled down to the street where the Batmobile was parked. 

"You're very welcome," Babs responded, matching his energy. "Oracle signing off." 

Tim felt a tightening in his chest, that awful combination of guilt and shame at being mean to Babs like that. It was tempered by the raging indignation in him at being treated like a baby. 

"Goodnight, Oracle," Batman said genuinely, following Tim down the side of the building. 

Tim, being petty, got into the passenger seat and slammed his door shut behind him. Batman got into the driver's side, and before Tim knew it, they were speeding back towards the Batcave. 

In true father fashion, Bruce let Tim stew the entire car ride home, not speaking until they were back in the cave. It was only there that Bruce lowered his cowl, fixing Tim with his piercing blue stare. 

"Well?" Bruce asked, prompting Tim to explain himself. 

"Well what?" Tim asked defiantly, watching as Bruce took a deep breath. 

"Do you want to explain to me why you've patrolled well over your allotted time for a school week this week?"

"Lots of crime," Tim said with a shrug, and Bruce looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose and was only refraining through great amounts of self restraint.

"It's clear something is off," Bruce insisted. "You're skipping your homework assignments. I've gotten three separate calls this week alone about teachers finding you sleeping in some random corners of the school when you're supposed to be in your classes, meaning you're not sleeping at home."

Tim just shrugged again, face burning. He didn't realize they had been calling home. The embarrassment was quickly replaced with anger. Why was Bruce only bringing this up now? Why didn't he bring it up after the first time? The second? 

"Please, Tim, I can't do anything unless you tell me what's wrong," Bruce practically begged him, and Tim felt indignation rise up in him. 

Wasn't that ironic? Batman was the 'World's Greatest Detective,' yet he couldn't even tell what was wrong with his kids. Tim decided that if Bruce really cared, he would have been paying enough attention to know already. So, he clenched his jaw and avoided Bruce's eyes instead of answering. 

Bruce groaned in frustration slightly, and Tim was a little shocked that such a noise had slipped out. Granted, Bruce had been stressed recently, but Tim did not realize it was taking that much of a toll on him that his steel grip on his expressions was breaking down. 

"Look, Tim, if this is about Damian—"

"Jesus Christ, not everything is about him!" Tim snapped, all the anger and hurt boiling over as he turned to look Bruce in the eyes again, seeing the shock in his face… but also an uncomfortable amount of clarity. 

Don't shout, just get it together.

"He's just a kid, and I understand that it's a hard adjustment, but—"

"Can't you just mind your own fucking business?" Tim asked, immediately biting down on his own tongue afterwards.

Get it together, get it together, get it together—

Bruce's eyebrows shot up, and he folded his arms. 

"You're grounded, and so is Robin," Bruce said, and Tim's jaw dropped. "You can go back to patrolling once you're caught up on all your homework and getting more sleep." 

"This is bullshit, you can't just ground me!" 

"I'm your father, Tim, it's well within my rights—"

"You're not my dad!" he insisted, watching as there was a brief moment of raw pain on Bruce's face before he wiped it clean. 

Bruce had put on his 'Batman' face, which he never did with them unless he was really trying to stay calm. 

Tim was not sure what possessed him to say it. He definitely did not mean it, but the words crawled out of his throat all the same. Tim instantly wanted to claw the words back, and nearly tripped over himself to do so. 

"W-wait, I—" 

"Go to bed, Tim," Bruce interrupted him, turning back towards the Batmobile.

The Batcave had never felt so empty.

~~~

"Alright, kiddo, here you go." 

Bruce helped to lower Tim down onto his bed, his arm and leg freshly casted and his body still sore all over. Bruce took a moment to fuss over him, fluffing up his pillows and arranging them so his arm and leg were kept elevated, then covering him with the blankets. 

"Alright, is there anything else you need?" Bruce asked, and Tim just shook his head. "Okay. I'm just a phone call away if you need anything." 

"Thanks, B," Tim mumbled, and Bruce gently brushed his hair back to press a kiss against his forehead. 

Once Bruce was gone, Tim started doom-scrolling on his phone. There was nothing else to do. It was only when his eyes started to feel like they were burning from the lack of moisture that he set it down and groaned in boredom. 

Tim's eyes then focused on the scrapbook on his nightstand, within reach of his good arm. He had been feeling sentimental before heading to Titan Tower to see the team, so he broke out the old photography book. It housed printed out pictures of Batman and Robin from Dick Grayson's days to… well, the start of Tim's tenure, when he stopped taking photos and started fighting crime.

With trembling hands, he reached over and pulled it close. It opened easily to the last page he had been on. The Jason Todd collection. 

Tim's throat got tight as his hands started to grip the pages so tight that they wrinkled under him. There, immortalized forever, was the young Jason Todd that Tim had once looked up to. The boy who had swung through the streets like he had wings. The one Tim had mourned, despite only ever meeting him once. 

He had idolized him… and Jason Todd had done this to him. 

The first photo was out of the scrapbook and crushed in his hand in seconds. Then the third. Then the fourth. 

Jason Todd didn't deserve the photos, or the admiration. He had become the very thing that he had once fought against. Tim's breathing grew faster with every photo he destroyed, but he kept going. 

Until that page. 

Jason Todd, grin stretched across his face as he left a bunch of bad guys laying the dust. It was his first time flying solo. In that moment, Jason was probably the happiest Tim had ever seen him.

That was the first and only time Tim had met Jason before his death. It was at that moment that Tim knew that being Robin was magic. It was this photo that he would go back to every time training got too hard, or Bruce got too quiet. 

With a sob, Tim slammed the scrapbook shut. He couldn't look at the photo anymore, but he couldn't destroy it, either. Stuck between conflicting feelings, Tim tossed the cursed book across the room, allowing it to fall heavily to the floor. 

Turns out you really aren't supposed to meet your heroes. 

~~~

Tim avoided everyone the entire next day, coming home from school and going straight to his room.

It was over, and he could feel it. Bruce had already decided he wasn't good enough for Robin anymore, and then Tim had gone and pretty much disowned him. There was no way Bruce was going to let him keep Robin after that, and Tim was going to have to watch Damian flying around Gotham in his colors like he had never existed at all. The thought made him sick, glued to his bed and unable to move. 

He had tried so hard to keep himself together so he could keep the family together… and he had failed. All it had taken for his months of hard work to fall apart was one night.

"Do you think you're that good now? Do you really, Tim?"

Tim curled up into himself.

No, no I don't.

An alarm triggered to Tim's phone, and he sat up instantly. Bruce had the house wired with a million invisible trip wires for foreign DNA… and several had just triggered in the manor. Someone was breaking in. 

"Shit," Tim said, jumping up out of bed and running into the hallway. "Alfred?!" 

"Drake, what is going on?" Damian asked from his door, and Tim realized he didn't have a phone, so he wouldn't have gotten the notification. 

"Batcave, now," Tim ordered, interrupting Damian as he opened his mouth. "We've got intruders, we need to go get our gear. Move." 

Damian must have recognized the urgency, because he followed Tim down the halls. They met Alfred at the entrance to the Batcave, where he had been waiting for them. 

"I have put the manor on lock down, but I fear our most likely opponents will not be slowed much by that," Alfred said, and Tim nodded. 

It was also no coincidence that Bruce had left to chase down a lead related to Talia earlier that morning, meaning he had been effectively baited out of the house. There were few people who could craft a plan like that and have the manpower to execute it. 

The League of Assassins had come knocking. 

"Dick is on his way, no word from Jason," Tim relayed as he got into his Robin suit, seeing as the grounding didn't apply during emergencies. He moved over to check the Batcomputer, seeing several messages. "B tried to reach us, but no one was down here." 

"Well, we know now," Alfred said, holding a shotgun that Tim had not seen him pick up.

"I thought we did not kill," Damian stated, and Alfred shrugged. 

"I am not intending to," Alfred responded simply, and Tim was reminded that despite his appearance, Alfred was quite capable of throwing down. 

Tim took one last deep breath, relishing in the calm before the storm. Then, like a wave crashing on a shore, chaos broke out. 

There was something to be said for the ability of the League of Assassins to get in anywhere. The fact that they got into the Batcave was astounding, considering the defenses that Bruce had put in it. It was even more impressive considering that there seemed to be hundreds of assassins, and they had gotten there mostly unseen. 

Dick arrived part way through the battle, which was a great help… but it was not enough. They were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Tim would take down an enemy, and another would instantly take his place. He was starting to grow tired… which had nothing to do with his lack of sleep for the past week, surely. 

Tim was overpowered, his weapon removed and his arms forced behind his back as the assassins started to move him towards the exit. He wasn't sure why he was being captured and not killed, but he was displeased by the situation either way. Across the room, he could see that Damian had similarly been restrained, though he was still struggling.

Dick was stuck in the middle of the room, head turning rapidly between the two of them. He was only one person, he could only help one of them. They made eye contact across the room, and Tim knew who Dick was going to choose before the man moved. Tim got a bitter taste in his mouth at the sight of Nightwing turning to help Damian, leaving Tim to be dragged even further back by the assassins taking him away. He wasn't Dick's first choice. He wasn't Bruce's. He wasn't anyone's first choice, and he never would be. 

All the fight left Tim, and he welcomed the darkness when the assassins knocked him out. 

Tim knew he had been woken up by the awful scent of smelling salts when the sensation continued to burn his nose even after they had been pulled away. He didn't have much time to think about it, though, because he was soon roughly forced to his knees. Like he had been trained, he started to immediately take note of his surroundings. 

His hands were chained in front of him, which was annoying but manageable. He counted at least five enemies in his immediate vicinity, their swords trained on him, but there were probably more throughout the room. Lifting his head, he could see Ra's standing in front of him. 

Well, Tim was relatively confident that it was Ra's. Truthfully, the man was so deformed looking that Tim couldn't be sure of anything at that time. His skin looked as if it was trying to escape the man, with the way it seemed a couple rapid movements from falling directly off of him. His eyes were bloodshot and there was very little of his hair left. Upon further inspection, Tim realized it wasn't even the ancient man's original body. Something about it was deeply wrong, and Tim second guessed himself on whether or not it was Ra's at all. 

"Glad to see you are back with us, Drake," the man said, and the self-righteous tone was what truly confirmed it was him.

"Can't say the same about you, Ra's," Tim spat out. "I've been kinda hoping that one of these days, death will stick to you for once." Tim pretended to look closer for a second, then shrugged. "Although… it certainly looks like it's trying to." 

"Your impertinence is as confident as your fighting technique, Drake," Ra's said. "I find that refreshing… to a point." 

Ra's waved his hand, and an assassin moved to stand in front of Tim. He tensed himself, waiting for an attack… but instead, his shackles were removed. Tim rubbed his wrists, then slowly rose to his feet. He didn't like being looked down on. 

Ra's turned and walked to a nearby table, which was set for two people. Ra's gestured for Tim to sit down, but he hesitated. He got a sharp jab in the back for that, so he moved forward and took his seat across from Ra's. 

"What is this?" Tim asked, and Ra's grabbed the teapot. 

"Our past history aside, I am not your enemy, Tim," Ra's insisted, pouring two cups of tea. 

There was no way in hell Tim was drinking anything Ra's gave him. He just stared at the cup. 

"A little hard to believe after you had a hoard of assassins drag me here," Tim replied. "And the whole zombie look doesn't exactly scream 'good guy.'"

"Give me time, and I will change your mind," Ra's insisted, waving a woman over with a plate of food. She set it down in front of them. "Local delicacies, tu and kheer. I think you'll find their sweetness refreshing." 

Same policy as the tea: no way in hell. 

"Sorry, but Batman taught me never to take candy from strangers, Ra's." 

"I wouldn't consider us strangers, Tim," Ra's said as he took a sip of his tea. "Acquaintances, perhaps." 

Tim crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him. This was… weird.

"I may be young, but I can't be bought with a couple treats," Tim insisted. "You're trying too hard, Ra's." 

"Oh, that was just hospitality," Ra's said, looking entirely unphased. "If you want, I can show you what 'trying' looks like."

Ra's looked up from his teacup, transfixing Tim with those sharp green eyes of his. Tim immediately felt the same discomfort that he was sure prey animals felt when they were being hunted.

"You have been dealing with a great bit of conflict recently, as I have gathered. Well, Timothy… I sit before you as a man who has conquered death. If I can return in body and soul… so can others." Ra's paused for a second for dramatic effect, then kept speaking. "I can reunite you with your parents." 

The air was sucked out of Tim's lungs in an instant. He kept his expression schooled, but his entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. His parents… all he wanted…

No, Ra's was lying. Ra's always lied. 

Was he not a corpse standing in front of Tim at that very moment?

"You're clearly in need of a strong mentor," Ra's continued, looking at Tim appraisingly, as if he could read his mind. "Someone who can be a benefactor and powerful friend to you. Luckily, you don't have to look any further for one." 

"You're right," Tim said, swallowing thickly. "Because I already have all that with Batman." 

Did he, though?

"He already thinks more of Damian than he does you," Ra's said, and Tim clenched his teeth. "It won't be long before Damian surpasses you in both skill and the Detective's affections. History has shown that he will leave you in the cold. They all will." 

Tim thought of Bruce asking him to step down so he could pass on the mantle to Damian. He thought of Dick turning his back on Tim to go and help the person who had tried to kill him… not just once, but twice. There was no way Ra's could know about all of that, and yet… he had still picked up on it. He had picked up on it because it was a pattern, and Tim was the most recent person to fall victim to it. 

"Though, I'm sure you've heard as much from Jason Todd." 

That statement hit Tim like a freight train, and he barely kept his composure. Something must have slipped through the cracks, though, because one corner of Ra's mouth turned up into a smirk. 

"There, Timothy. I was trying right there."

Tim took a deep breath through his nose as subtly as he could. He couldn't let Ra's get to him. 

Ra's stood up then, pacing back and forth next to the table. 

"Bruce Wayne is a man trying to save one city," Ra's said, his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth in front of Tim. "His resources, though vast to the eyes of a common man, are limited. Ultimately he will go to his grave a pauper, his fortune squandered, Batman's great deeds forgotten, and his precious Gotham in an ever-decaying spiral." Ra's stopped, turning to face Tim. "You have a sharp mind for logic. Can you dispute this?"

Tim swallowed thickly. "Maybe not. But given your current condition—which is to say, dead—I wouldn't expect you to be an optimist."

"I possess wealth that dwarfs Wayne's a hundred times over!" Ra's professed. "I command legions of men who live for no other reason but to do my bidding. You and Wayne struggle each night to save one metropolis. Stand with me, and I shall prove to you the breadth of my power. I will show you the secrets of life and death, so that you may have your parents back."

"What about Damian?" Tim asked. "I thought that being your grandson, he would have the great honor of your teachings." 

Tim was being mildly sarcastic, but Ra's seemed to ignore his tone. 

"He will no longer be a concern of yours."

Tim was shocked by himself when he realized that he didn't mind that. The idea that Damian would no longer be a concern of his—after several weeks of being endlessly concerned about the brat—was refreshing. The kid could clearly take care of himself, and that was all he would probably ever do. Tim was sick and tired of bending over backwards to take care of people that wouldn't take care of him. 

"I… I'll give it some thought," Tim said, and Ra's fixed him with an appraising look, then smiled. 

"You are a young man of intelligence and integrity, Timothy," Ra's said. "Your logical thinking has almost surpassed that of even Bruce Wayne. I know you can sense the merit of my proposal. I can see it in your eyes."

Tim was ashamed to admit it, but Ra's was right: sooner or later, he would be left out in the cold. Tim wanted to have people he knew would stay beside him when that happened. He wanted his parents back. He wanted Kon back. 

"If you could prove your loyalty to me, I could ensure that you will never feel the sting of abandonment again." 

Tim resented the idea of 'proving his loyalty' from the moment it hit his ears… but was that not what he had been doing all along? Had he not spent the past four years trying desperately to prove his loyalty, being rebuffed at every opportunity? 

If his family wouldn't choose him, then he would choose other people. He would choose his real parents, who had always loved him without cost. He would choose his best friend. 

Tim was ready to start making decisions for himself, instead of letting everyone else make them for him. 

"What would I have to do?" 

~~~

"Do you think you're that good now?" Jason asked, "Do you really, Tim?"

The blows just kept coming down. Tim had felt his arm break, and the way his leg was throbbing wasn't good. He was tired, and hurt, and he just wanted to rest. 

Still. He was Robin. 

"Yes," Tim insisted, receiving a fist to the face as payment.

Blood was coming out of his mouth. He took a wheezy breath, struggling to get air in and out of his lungs. The Robin emblem being ripped from his chest, discarded in the blood pool.

It was ironic, in an awful sort of way. Jason Todd, who had been beaten and killed by the Joker, was trying to kill him. He was so angry at Tim for taking his spot, that he was prepared to force a vacancy in the exact same way. Once Tim realized that, he couldn't hold himself back from saying it. 

Tim was not able to win in a physical fight against Jason, but he figured psychic damage would be just as effective as a punch. 

"You're just like him… just like the joker," Tim said, staying conscious just long enough to see the gun pointed at him before he slipped away. 

When he came back, the Titans were assembled around him, fussing over him. 

"Tim, are you alright?" Starfire asked.

"I blacked out," Tim answered, groaning as his wounds were jostled. 

With the support of Beast Boy, Tim was pulled to his feet. On the way up, he saw the wall. 

'Jason Todd was here,' it read, written in a red substance that looked suspiciously like blood, and Tim hoped it wasn't his. 

"Yeah… apparently the guy is cracked," Beast Boy said, and Tim frowned. "Like, Jason Todd is dead." 

"No, no it was him," Tim said. "It was… fuck."

His arm and leg were definitely broken. Those would be awful to heal.

He looked up and saw the faces of all of the Titans falling as they realized Tim wasn't joking. Starfire in particular looked sick, and she took a step back from the group. 

"I'm going to call Dick," she said, then left the room. 

"So is that what this is about, then?" Beast Boy asked, eyes on the writing on the wall. "Just wanted to make some big announcement that he's back?"

"I don't know," Tim lied, because he did know what it was all about.

Everyone else was taking the statement at face value, but Tim knew better. Sure, it was an announcement, a way of confirming what Bruce and Dick had already suspected… but that wasn't it. The sentence could also be read with an additional word:

Jason Todd was here first.

~~~

Before Tim could fully process what he was doing, he was standing in front of a Lazarus Pit. 

He had been led there by the White Ghost, the right hand man of Ra's al Ghul. Something in him was screaming to stop, to turn back, but Tim refused to listen to it. He needed this. He needed his parents back. He needed his friend back. 

"My master built his temple above this Lazarus Pit," White Ghost informed him. "If you wish to join us, you must prove you are willing to turn your back on your old life. You must be baptized in the waters of rebirth… though take note: many who enter the Lazarus Pit… leave their senses behind."

There was a moment of silence. The Lazarus Pit had turned the previous Robin into a murderer. It could do something worse to Tim. The possibility of what he could get in return, though… the power over life and death, the ability to bring back the people he loves, to not feel so alone… it was too tempting. 

"Are you willing to take this chance?" the White Ghost asked. 

"I… I'll do it," Tim agreed. 

His mother. His father. Kon. All he needed to do to keep his resolve was keep repeating their names to himself. 

"Very well, I shall leave you to your ablutions," White Ghost said, walking away. "I must prepare for the coming ritual for our master."

Tim hated the way the White Ghost had said 'our' master. Tim had the sickening realization that that was the end goal of this. If he did this, he would be willingly turning himself over to Ra's al Ghul, who was about to functionally kill a ten year old to preserve his own life. It was almost enough to snap him out of it. 

Of course, Tim wasn't planning on working for Ra's forever. He just needed to get the information, then he could dispose of Ra's and send Damian back to play happy family with the Waynes. He didn't have to live by Batman's rules anymore, so getting rid of Ra's would be easy, if he could find a way to truly kill him. 

"This is it," Tim muttered to himself. "Just… just a little dip and then I can get them back."

Tim took a step forward, but was stopped by a familiar voice. 

"Yeah, no, there's no way in hell I'm letting you drink the neon green Kool-Aid, kid."

Tim whipped his head around. There, on a little rocky ledge above him, stood none other than Jason Todd. 

Of course. It all came back to Jason, in the end. Tim didn't even know where he came from. He had been unreachable during the whole 'Assassins Attacking the Manor' thing, just to finally show up when Tim wanted to see him the least.

He was wearing his full Red Hood outfit, complete with the brown leather jack and red helmet that had haunted Tim for months. Once he saw that he had gotten Tim's attention, he leapt down from the ledge to put himself in between Tim and Pit. 

"Hood," Tim forced out from behind gritted teeth. "Get out of my way."

"No can do, Robin," Jason said casually, crossing his arms like some shitty nightclub bouncer. "This family only has enough room for one Lazarus Mad Motherfucker, and the role is filled. Sorry."

Tim had built a dam inside himself. Its goal was to keep the tidal waves of pain and anger buried deep within him, so that neither himself nor others had to deal with it. That dam burst open as soon as Jason opened his mouth. Tim wanted revenge. He wanted to face the monster that plagued his dreams and he wanted to win. 

Resolute in his choice, Tim pulled out his bo staff, watching as Jason's body tensed all over. 

"You have no idea what's going on," Tim insisted, tightening his grip. "So back off!"

Tim launched into battle, taking advantage of Jason's shock. Still, Jason countered the first couple of attacks, swearing lowly as he had to deflect an attack with his hands. His non-lethal pistols stayed in their holsters, and the escrima sticks that Dick had been training him to use were still tucked away. 

He wasn't drawing his weapons. That gave Tim an advantage.

"Well, I never quite took after B on the whole 'detective' thing, but let me give it a shot," Jason interjected, using his superior strength to just tank the blows when his mobility didn't let him dodge in time. "You're struggling with grief after losing both of your parents and your two best friends in such a short period of time, even if Steph did technically come back. You're angry because Bruce allowed Damian to come live with us after he tried to kill you, awakening feelings you thought you had successfully repressed about what I did. You're upset because Bruce tried to ask you to give up Robin to give it to Damian. You're livid that Dick decided to try and save Damian instead of you. And you're confused because Ra's Al Ghul, like the manipulative bastard he is, tried to tempt you with the promise that he can bring back the people you've lost, which seems like an awfully convenient solution for all of the other problems eating away at you for the low price of your mind and soul."

Jason dodged under one of Tim's attacks, and roughly shoved him backwards to give himself some space. 

"How am I doing so far?" Jason asked, rolling his head to the side to crack his neck. 

Tim scowled, not happy that Jason of all people was attempting to psychoanalyze him. Instead of acknowledging that Jason had, in fact, just put a name to every emotion swirling around in him, Tim just kept fighting. Jason finally realized that Tim was serious.

"Look, Tim," Jason pleaded, grabbing Tim's staff to force him to face him. "Once you walk into that pit, you never really walk back out. Trust me, I know."

"This isn't about me!" Tim insisted, twisting his way out of Jason's hold. "It doesn't matter what happens to me if I can get them back!"

His mother. His father. Kon. 

Jason must have read him like a book, because Tim watched his posture slacken. 

"Tim… I know things have been rough for you—"

"You have no fucking idea—"

"—but this is not the solution."

"Well, I don't have any other ones!" Tim shouted. "This is my life, and my choice, so what is your problem?" 

"My problem is that we are here fighting each other instead of backing up B and saving Damian from being possessed by Ra's!"

The problem was… Tim didn't care. He had lost so much. He had given so much. His parents. His best friend. His body. His mind. He had given everything to the cause and to his family, and he felt that he was owed something back. For once, he was making the choice to give something up knowing that he was finally going to be repaid in kind. Tim was prepared to make that sacrifice. 

Jason must've realized the same thing, because he let out a sigh and finally pulled out the escrima sticks.

"You don't care," he said quietly. "I've never known you to not care."

"You don't know me at all," Tim retorted, launching back into the fight. 

Tim had one massive advantage in this fight: Jason didn't want to hurt him. That made it significantly easier to push him back closer to the Pit, which was now bubbling at their backs. All Tim had to do was get in the toxic green water. There was no way Jason would follow him, and it would give Tim the strength he needed to win the fight. Jason, of course, also knew that, which was why he was blocking the Pit with his entire body. 

"Tim, listen," Jason insisted, parrying a flurry of attacks. "Think logically for a minute. Ra's can't just fucking resurrect people out of thin air." 

Tim swiped at Jason's head but the man dodged, then lodged his boot in Tim's stomach. Thankfully, the bruise it left would be washed away soon. 

"He was a walking, shambling corpse that even the Pit couldn't fix before he possessed another body. Your parents and Kon… Tim, even if Ra's did have a way to bring them back, they've been gone too long!" 

"Not as long as you were," Tim insisted, and Jason groaned in frustration. 

"Fine, you're right. I was brought back by some force we don't entirely understand, then shoved in the Pit against my will," Jason agreed. "And I have to live with that. Every. Fucking. Day. Do you have any idea what it's like to look in the mirror and wonder how much of it is really you? To know that you were nothing more than rotting skin and bone before something reconstructed you? You would wish that hell on the people you love?"

In a familiar move that Tim really should have seen coming, Jason wrenched Tim's bo staff out of his hands, throwing it across the room and out of Tim's reach. Jason put his own weapons away then, but Tim stayed in a fighting position. 

"Shut up!" Tim yelled. "What gave you the right? What is so special about you that you're allowed to cheat death but they're not?"

"Nothing," Jason admitted, his voice nearly cracking, and Tim froze. "Absolutely nothing. I am an affront to the natural order of things. Just a freak of nature."

The confession rocked Tim to his core for a second, tearing his guard down. That gave Jason the time to take a couple of hesitant steps forward, putting his hand on Tim's shoulder. 

"Where does it stop, Tim?" Jason asked. "What about my mom? Dick's parent's? Bruce's—?" 

"I get it," Tim interrupted him, shrugging the hand off his shoulder.

Tim must have tensed and telegraphed his next move, because Jason groaned and readied himself again before Tim lashed out with his leg, kicking Jason further back. With that move, Tim had finally put himself between Jason and the Pit, so he backed up closer to the toxic green water. Jason continued to walk closer to him, but didn't try to attack. Tim finally had the upperhand. 

"I am so so tired of analyzing everything to death while everyone I love leaves me," Tim admitted. "I'm tired of putting myself and my feelings aside to keep everyone else happy. I want my parents back. I want my friend back. If I do this, I'll learn how, and then I'll never have to worry about being alone again, because I'll have them."

"Maybe," Jason said, no longer advancing. Tim turned around and started walking towards the Pit. "On the off chance that Ra's actually helps you bring them back, and isn't just manipulating you to hold it over B's head. Maybe he will bring them back, and maybe you'll have the people you lost… or maybe you'll spend the rest of your life wondering if it's really them. Maybe they're finally resting and they'll resent you for ripping that from them."

Jason paused, and Tim clenched his fists and kept walking. There was a clicking sound, and the formerly mechanized voice became distinctly human again. 

"Maybe they'll spend the rest of their lives trying to be the person you thought you were getting back, and hating themselves when they can't live up to the version of themselves in your head."

Something about the sheer vulnerability in Jason's voice stopped Tim just inches from the edge of the Pit. He turned around, and saw that Jason had removed his helmet and his mask, both abandoned to the side. The stark white line of Jason's hair stood out, sticking to Jason's forehead from the sweat. Tim could tell from his eyes alone that he was… scared? Jason Todd was scared. 

Tim had never really talked to Jason about… well, anything deep at all. There had never seemed to be an opportunity. After Jason had apologized for what happened, they had almost immediately slipped into their tenuous friendship, and Tim hadn't wanted to risk that by asking deep questions. At that moment, Tim started to realize that there was a high chance that Jason thought he had been better off a dead man. Tim finally processed that Jason was truly speaking from experience. It left an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Tim suddenly had to reckon with the idea that everyone else wasn't as alright as they seemed, either. That while he had been so angry at them for not noticing when he was struggling, he hadn’t noticed when they were either. 

"I can't stop you," Jason admitted. "I can't… I can't make myself hurt you, I can't drag you away. Just know this… people are going to die. That's the world we live in. But you'll never live your own life if you spend the rest of it chasing death away." Jason looked down at his shoes. "I know our family isn't… conventional. We fuck up more than average. I myself have fucked up a lot. But we're here, and we care about you, and I just… I don't want the Al Ghul's to take this from you like they took it from me."

Tim turned back to face the green liquid, his toes nearly touching the edge of the pool. He was so close now. Just one more step and he would gain the power he needed. Just one step and he would have proven that he was worthy of the knowledge to the only person who had it. He glanced down at the toxic green sludge and could almost see the faces of the people he loved in it. 

His mom. His dad. Kon. 

But what would he lose?

Dick. Cass. Alfred. Babs. 

Jason. Steph.

Himself.

Bruce. 

When he looked at it like that, the answer was simple.

Tim was slammed with clarity so fast it made his head spin. He felt nauseous as he processed what he had been about to do. He had almost willingly stepped into a Lazarus Pit because chronic liar and manipulator Ra's al Ghul had promised him something. With shaking legs, he took a couple steps back from the Pit. Behind him, he heard a shaky breath of relief from Jason. 

"I'm sorry," Tim said, turning around and falling onto his knees. "I'm so sorry."

Jason knelt next to him. He rested a supportive hand on Tim's shoulder, but at the slightest hint of human contact, Tim collapsed completely. He felt as Jason tensed slightly, then pulled him closer into a hug. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jason reassured him. "Absolutely nothing at all. We haven't been fair to you. We've expected too much… not because you're not capable, but because you shouldn't have to be all the time. Still, I let you make that choice because I knew you would make the right one."

There were footsteps, then, and another hand rested on Tim's back. 

"When did you get here?" Jason asked someone Tim couldn't see… but he knew it was Dick based on presence alone. 

"A couple of minutes ago," Dick answered softly, running his hand through Tim's hair. "I could tell you had it handled."

"Oh," Jason said, all of his previous eloquence leaving him as he went from big brother to little brother again in less than a second. 

"We should probably go back up B and Damian," Dick said eventually, and Jason and Tim nodded in agreement. 

"Alright, let's go save the brat," Jason said, standing up. Him and Dick offered Tim their hands, and he took them. 

Tim's two older brothers pulled him to his feet, and the final puzzle piece finally slotted into place for Tim, then. That was what it meant to be a big brother. They would tease him relentlessly, and steal his food, and pick fights… but at the end of the day, they were always there to pick him back up, and they would always have his back. 

It was Tim's turn to have Damian's back. 

~~~

Tim's favorite thing to take pictures of had been the ice cream nights after patrol. 

When Dick or Jason had done a particularly good job, Batman had always taken them out for ice cream. In the early days, Tim would watch as Dick did handstands on the edges of buildings until Batman brought back mint chocolate chip ice cream, Dick's favorite. In Jason's time, Batman would even occasionally bring his hand up to ruffle Jason's hair, causing the younger boy to scoff indignantly and wave the hand away. 

Ice cream nights were a thing of the past. Batman had never taken Tim. Usually, Batman just brought him back to the mansion, then sent him on his way without a second glance. Though, a couple weeks ago he had started patting Tim's back when they returned from patrol. The day before, Tim even thought he had seen Batman smile at one of his comments. 

It's not that Tim expected more… really! He was just here to keep Batman from getting himself killed. They were business partners, nothing more. Tim still had his parents, even though they weren't home much. Batman wasn't his dad like he was Dick's and Jason's. It was just… ice cream would be nice. 

They were standing on a rooftop, watching as the cops apprehended the robbers Batman and Robin had left tied up for them. Tim was shifting on his feet, glancing sideways at Bruce to see if he would say anything about that kick he had done. Tim was pretty proud of it. 

He had resigned himself to another silent night when Batman spoke out of nowhere.

"You're a good Robin," Batman said. "I know I haven't said it before, but I mean it."

Tim's heart stopped in the best way. He almost couldn't believe it. His wide eyes focused on Bruce, and his mouth opened and closed several times without saying anything. 

"Like that kick off the wall tonight? Well executed," Batman praised him, and Tim started practically vibrating with excitement. 

"Thanks B!" Tim said, feeling the happiest he had in months.

The corner of Bruce's mouth quirked up into the ghost of a smile. "Now, what do you say about ice cream for dinner?" 

Tim's smile could have lit up all of Gotham.

~~~

In the end, everything worked out… if it was all a bit strange. 

Tim checked out mentally somewhere around Ra's stealing his own son's body and using it to fight them… because apparently he had a son, the White Ghost himself, who was willing to give it up the whole time, and the choice to try and use Damian—or Tim for some reason—was just an added flair for the dramatic. Still, it worked out for the Bats, so Tim wasn't complaining. 

The plane ride back had been mostly silent, with everyone still processing the weirdness of the day. Even Damian was quiet, looking at Tim with an unreadable expression. That was alright. It was better than open malice. Perhaps they were making progress… slowly, but still. 

Tim saw Jason and Dick pull Bruce aside when they got back. Figuring that he didn't want to have whatever conversation was coming next in his sweaty, bloody suit, he decided that he was at the very least owed a shower first. When it took longer than five minutes for Bruce to show up afterwards, he decided to finally work on some homework due the next day… physics, which was light work for the kid who had to make on the spot calculations for his swings every night. 

He was sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his homework in front of him when there was finally a soft knock on the door. 

"Come in," Tim said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. 

Bruce opened the door then, smiling gently at Tim. 

"Hey, kiddo… busy?" 

"Physics homework," Tim said, closing the work book and tossing it to the side. "Easy stuff, really." 

"Isn't most school work easy for you?" Bruce said with a grin, coming to sit on the edge of the bed closest to Tim. 

"Everything but English… I swear, if I have to analyze one more set of curtains…" 

Bruce let out a short chuckle, looking at Tim fondly for a second before his expression got a bit more serious. 

"Did Jason and Dick tell you?" Tim asked, despite already knowing the answer. 

Bruce nodded. 

In the end, Bruce didn't even have to say anything. He had just rested his hand gently on Tim's cheek and Tim had completely fallen apart. Bruce had pulled him closer so he could sob into his chest. All the tears he had kept bottled up in him since that day he had ripped the photos of his childhood hero to shreds came pouring out of him. 

"It's alright," Bruce said gently, his cheek resting against the top of Tim's head. "It's alright. Let it all out." 

"I tried really hard to keep everything together," Tim admitted through tears, and Bruce rubbed his back comfortingly. "I needed to keep the family together."

"I know, and you did such a good job… but it isn't your job, Tim," Bruce told him. "It's my job to keep this family together. I should have been there more for you, and I'm sorry." 

"You had so much going on…" Tim tried to say, but Bruce shook his head before the statement was even finished. 

"I should never be too busy to take care of you, too," Bruce insisted. "I'm not the best at balancing the different aspects of my life, but that's not your fault and you shouldn't feel the weight of it." 

"I thought you were tired of me," Tim said. 

"I could never get tired of you, Tim," Bruce assured him, and Tim murmured something into his chest about figuring that out. 

There was a brief pause, and Tim felt the need to get something off his chest. 

"You know, I realized something on the plane ride home?" Tim said, then swallowed thickly. "I don't remember my Mom's voice anymore, B. Not because she's been gone too long, but because even when she was alive, she was never there. Neither of them were. I almost… all of that for two people who I never saw even when they were alive." 

"I know, kiddo," Bruce admitted, his voice soft. 

"Plus, Kon would have been pissed if I sold my soul just to bring him back, so I still wouldn't have had anyone. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just… it made so much sense at the time. Betray everyone I love so I won't be alone… it sounds stupid now." 

"You know, we lose our ability to think logically when we don't sleep," Bruce pointed out, and Tim's face started burning with embarrassment. "Of course, it also happens when our brains are in panic mode all the time." 

Tim paused for a second, and Bruce waited patiently for him to open up. 

"When Damian almost killed me… I started thinking about Jason a lot," Tim admitted quietly. "I thought I was over it." 

"Did you get over it or did you repress it?" Bruce asked, and Tim shrugged, not wanting to make eye contact. 

"I thought those were the same thing," Tim finally admitted, and Bruce nodded. 

"I'm seeing that, now," Bruce said gently. 

"I just… everyone wanted him back so bad," Tim admitted, his eyes starting to burn again. "I didn't want to get in the way of everyone being happy."

"Tim," Bruce started, gently tapping Tim's head so he would look at him. "Tim, sweetheart, to this day, what Jason did was unacceptable. You would have been well within your rights to never speak to him again. To never want any of us to speak to him again." 

"But I didn't want that," Tim insisted. "I wanted him here, and I wanted the family to be whole again… I wanted it so bad, I just… I didn't realize it would be so hard. I just wanted to stop feeling so… so angry, and hurt, and scared, and everything and nothing all at once." 

Bruce paused for a long second, as if weighing his words.

"Sometimes I wake up from a nightmare where I'm holding Jason's body, and I have to peer through his door and listen to him breathe before I can calm down," Bruce confessed. "I'll be having a conversation with Dick and I'll remember the first time he got shot, and the whole world will feel like it's ending again, just like it did in the moment. Cass will be curled up on the couch, taking a nap, and for a terrifying second I'll be convinced she's dead. A couple weeks ago, you cut your finger on one of the Batarangs during practice. When I saw the blood, all I could see was you in the Titan Tower med-bay, and all I could think was that I was too late again…" Bruce trailed off before rallying himself. "Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and for a moment, I'm still that scared little boy watching his parents get shot in an alley. 

"That's the nature of trauma, Tim. It never really leaves us. It makes itself at home and it reminds us that it exists at our highest and lowest moments. We can try to beat it back and lock it away, but it will just come back stronger. The only way to make it easier is to learn to live with it." 

A couple of moments passed before Tim found it in him to speak. 

"Sorry I said you weren't my dad." 

Bruce gave him a soft smile, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry. Dick and Jason said some far worse things growing up."

"That… doesn't shock me," Tim admitted. "Still. You're a pretty good dad, B." 

"Thanks, kid," Bruce said. "You're a pretty good son." 

There was more still to be said, but neither of them had the energy for it that night. The next morning, they would probably have to talk about Tim's grades, the lack of sleep, the trauma from Titan Tower, and everything else. 

For now, Tim was just a kid in his father's arms, and the nightmares couldn't get him. 

~~~~

Tim knew that he was starting to get pretty risky in his nightly escapades, but the thrill of chasing Batman and Robin across the Gotham rooftops was just too appealing. 

It wasn't like his parents would notice. They were away on a dig, and he was too old now for an overnight nanny. They had been so proud when he turned ten! They had called him from across the world, and sang him a song while he blew out the candle on his cupcake. They had even come home for two whole weeks the next month!

As for Batman, he had never noticed before, so he wasn't likely to notice now. All Tim had to do was keep being small and quiet, snapping his pictures from behind ledges. 

Today was a special day. Robin was on a solo patrol, and Tim was in the perfect position to get the perfect photo. It was the first time this Robin—Jason Todd, but Tim wasn't supposed to know that—was out alone. Tim was practically vibrating with excitement as his hero beat up a couple of robbers. When Jason zipped away, Tim got the best photo: the wind blowing Jason's hair as he zipped away, the biggest smile on his face while he flew through the air. 

Robin really was magic, if it could put a smile like that on Jason's face. 

Naturally, Tim scrambled to follow Jason, moving a bit too quickly for the old, ricketty fire escape. It groaned once, then twice… then collapsed out from under Tim entirely. 

He yelped, grabbing onto the ledge of the building, his fingers screaming in protest as the metal clattered noisily on the ground. 

"No, no," Tim said, trying to pull himself up and failing… not that there was anywhere to go. 

His fingers couldn't hold him. He lost his grip on the ledge, closing his eyes as he fell to the ground—

—and was grabbed out of the air. 

He let out another yelp, keeping his eyes tightly closed even as he was set onto solid ground again. 

"Hey kid, you alright?" 

Tim nearly started vibrating from pure excitement. That was Robin's voice! That meant that…

He opened his eyes and his jaw dropped.

"Robin!" he said, his eyes wide. 

"That's me," Robin said, a small smile on his face. "What are you doing out here this late?" 

"I, uh," Tim started to say, still too shocked that he had just been rescued by his hero, Robin, to say anything at all. "Uh… photos?" 

"At this time of night? In Gotham?" Robin asked, and Tim nodded. 

"Uh… Gotham's prettiest at night…" Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. 

Robin gave a little laugh. 

"Yeah… yeah it is," he said. "Still, you shouldn't be out here. Where are your parents?" 

"Oh, uh, my parents… they're at a work thing, I'm staying with a friend. Just here, actually. This building. Yeah." 

Robin's eyebrows shot up. 

"Not with that Bristol accent, you aren't," he teased, a little smile on his face. 

"Uh…" 

"C'mon, I'll take you to the bus stop." 

Robin had walked Tim all the way to the bus stop, and even stood with him to wait! Once the initial shock wore off, Tim started asking questions at a rapid fire pace about what it was like to be Robin and have Batman as a dad, and Robin had indulged him patiently the entire time. Tim was almost sad when the bus came to get them, but Robin had ruffled his hair and told him to be good and keep his chin up, and Tim could never disappoint his hero. 

Tim stared at the photo he had taken in awe for the entire bus ride back to Bristol. When he got home, he processed it with the utmost care and gave it an entire page in his scrapbook. 

Robin had saved his life, and now he had a little piece of the Robin magic to keep for himself. He promised to love and cherish that photo for the rest of his life. 

~~~

Gotham truly was most beautiful at night. Tim had always known that, of course, but it was particularly beautiful that night. 

"I do not see the point in this useless endeavor," Damian was saying next to him, his arms crossed petulantly over his new Robin uniform—a different design from Tim's, crafted specially for Damian's personality. The start of a new era. 

"C'mon, lighten up Robin," Dick insisted, doing handstands on the edge of the building they were all patiently waiting on. 

"Yeah, kid, have a little fun," Steph insisted, lounging back with her head in her hands. Her and Cass had returned from their trip a couple weeks ago, all problems resolved. 

"There was no time for 'fun' with the League of Assassins," Damian insisted, and Tim shrugged. 

"Well, then it's a good thing you're with us, now," Tim reminded him, and Damian just crossed his arms and muttered something petulantly under his breath. 

Of course, Tim noticed the way Damian's posture loosened slightly as the reminder that he was in a safe place with safe people finally settled in. He was too prideful to admit it, of course, but Tim had gotten pretty good at reading Damian's body language. Ever since the fight against Ra's a month ago, Tim had started putting in some more effort to actually get to know the kid. 

"We have to celebrate your first night as Robin, and Tim's first night as Red Robin," Babs's voice sounded in their ears. 

A week after Tim and Bruce had their talk, Tim had expressed his desire to start moving on from Robin to give Damian the opportunity to take on the mantle. Bruce had practically interrogated him for hours afterwards, making sure that Tim really meant it and wasn't putting everyone else first again. Tim just wanted Damian to have a chance he and Jason never had: to take on the mantle of Robin without the shadow of his predecessor. He wanted Damian to experience the magic of Robin without it being tainted by bitterness. 

When Tim had expressed that to Dick, the man had just smiled softly and ruffled Tim's hair. 

"Good news kid. You're already a better big brother than I was at your age." 

Tim had pretty much accepted giving up Robin entirely when Bruce had proposed an idea: there was nothing that said there couldn't be two Robins. 

The compromise came down to the names and the suits. Tim got a new red suit,with a couple of utility belts strapped across his chest and a black cape. He also took on the name Red Robin, a slight homage to the older brother that had stopped him from taking the worst swim of his life. He was still a Robin of sorts, but it was different now. He was being allowed to grow… to stretch his wings, so to speak. Meanwhile, Damian got to start coming out into Gotham and helping people, under the watchful eye of his father. 

After an agreement was reached, all Tim had to do was fix his grades and sleep schedule… and apologize to Babs for the way he talked to her, of course. Bruce was pretty firm on keeping the grounding until all three of those issues were resolved, and Tim figured he was getting off pretty lightly considering he had almost entered his villain arc. 

"Speaking of celebration!"

Tim turned around and there Jason, Cass, and Bruce where, their arms laden with ice cream.

"One celebratory rocky road ice cream for the great Red Robino," Jason said, passing one of the cups to Tim. "Chocolate chip mint—gag—for 'Wing." 

"Chocolate chip mint is great, Hood—you're just a hater." 

"Steph," Cass said simply, handing over a cup of birthday cake ice cream… which was painfully on brand for Steph. 

"Here, Robin," Bruce said, kneeling down in front of his youngest son. "I figured we would start off with something simple… I got chocolate and vanilla. Give them both a try and pick your favorite. I'll take the other one." 

"Well isn't that adorable?" Jason asked Tim, bumping his shoulder as he dug into his chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. "Baby demon's first ice cream. What an exciting time to be alive." 

"When have you ever been excited to be alive?" Tim joked, and Jason let out a dramatic gasp. 

"You wound me, Red," he said. "I am wounded."

Tim hummed, eating another spoonful of his ice cream. Damian picked the chocolate. 

"What are you having, Oracle?" Dick asked. 

"Strawberry," Babs responded, then continued when Tim gagged. "The superior ice cream flavor." 

"Sorry, I just don't get how people can get ice cream and think 'yeah, this would taste better as a fruit'," Tim said, then cringed when he saw Cass's head slowly turn towards him with her lemon sorbet in hand. "Uh, well, fruit is fine. Great actually. I love fruit flavored stuff." 

Cass stared at him for an extra second, then nodded and went back to her sorbet.

"What is up with Hood and Red being haters tonight?" Steph teased. 

"Middle child syndrome," Jason responded, and Tim nodded in agreement. 

"The new suit is cool, Hood," Tim said, finally getting a chance to bring it up. 

Jason had finally abandoned that red helmet, not long after Tim confessed it was still haunting his nightmares. Instead, he wore an actual red hood… a little on the nose, but he made it work. 

"Thanks," Jason said. "B helped me work it out. Figured that fresh starts are going around, and I wanted to get in on it." 

"Yeah, well, one could say it… suits you," Tim joked, and was rewarded with a light shove and groans from several family members. 

"That was awful, zero out of ten, never try to tell a joke again," Steph insisted, and Tim turned to glare at her. 

"Just the other day I heard you say 'Ice to see you, too' to Mr. Freeze after getting laid on your ass by a thirty pound ice ball in the chest."

"... what if we both just blame Dick and call it a day?" 

"Deal." 

There was a chorus of laughs, while Dick sputtered out indignant protests at the bullying he was receiving. Jason, like a genius, picked a fight with Dick then, and Tim moved so as to not be a casualty of war. He ended up sitting next to Damian, who was still intently eating his ice cream. 

"This is… oddly delicious," Damian admitted, and Tim grinned. 

"Yeah, that's the dangerous amount of sugar that Alfred usually doesn't let us eat," Tim told him. "Careful… stuff's more addictive than cocaine." 

Damian paused for a second, then turned to look at Tim with narrowed eyes. 

"Your attempts to deceive me will not work," he insisted, and Tim shook his head. 

"Nope, it's true—hey, B!" Tim shouted, and Bruce said turned from where he was watching Jason and Dick wrestle with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sugar—more addictive than cocaine?" 

"Mhm, and caffeine," Bruce agreed, and Damian scrunched up his face. 

"That cannot be correct," Damian insisted, and Tim shrugged. "You must be having fun at my expense." 

"Oh, no, if I was making fun of you, you would know," Tim said, hiding his grin with a spoonful of ice cream as Damian glared at him. "Now, Robin, what's the most important rule in this family?" 

"Do not kill." 

"Wrong," Tim insisted. "That's number two. The number one rule is always bet with big bills. Now, I'm personally putting two hundred dollars on Hood wiping the floor with Nightwing…"

Tragically, the fight ended in a draw and no money exchanged hands, but Tim could have sworn he saw something like a smile on Damian's face. As they finished off their ice cream, Tim saw Bruce reach over and ruffle Jason's hair. Dick felt the need to show off by walking on his hands over the entire length of the building. Steph was engaged in an animated discussion over the comms with Babs, and Cass was having a conversation in sign with Bruce.

It was a beautiful night in Gotham, and Tim had his family there to see it with him.