Chapter Text
“Hey, Timmy!” Tim can barely hear Dick over the terrible connection. “Not that I don't love hearing from you, but I'm kind of in the middle of something…”
Dick is in space with the Titans. Tim promised he would only call during an emergency. He's pretty sure this counts.
“Has Jason called you?” Tim scuffs his feet on the floor of the cave. He's not supposed to be down here on his own, but Bruce is being stupid about everything, and Jay is… well.
“No? What's up?” Even through the static, the concern comes through loud and clear.
“He fell out with Dad again,” Tim explains. “But it's bad this time, Dick. Dad was gonna take away Robin, and Jay stormed out, and we've not seen him since.”
Bruce all but accused Jason of pushing a man off a balcony. Jason has been getting more violent on patrol recently, but he would never...
Tim doesn't know what to do. Hence, the emergency space call.
“Let me guess, B is being a stubborn asshole about the whole thing?” Dick’s sigh crackles through the comms.
Bruce is currently somewhere in the Middle East chasing after Joker. So.
“Yeah. I don't know what to do.”
“Hang tight, Timmy. I'll be back soon. If they've not made up by then, I'll sort ‘em.”
“But…” Tim can't believe him. “But we don't know where Jay is! And B is–”
Dick's voice softens even as he interrupts. “Little Wing's a tough cookie, Timbo. Sometimes he needs some space, but he always comes back. He'll be alright.”
Tim's about to protest. Dick really isn't getting it. This is different from the other times Jason's left. Then comes the faint wail of sirens on the other end of the line.
“Shit. I gotta go, Tim. I'll be back soon, okay? Everything's going to be alright.”
Dick hangs up. The line goes dead. All Tim can hear is the distant flutter of bat wings and his own panicked breathing.
Tim gives his McDonald's Beanie Baby frog a squeeze. It's starting to look slightly worse for wear. Alfred had to teach him how to sew seams to stop the little plastic beads from falling out. His mom and dad would have thrown it out months ago (if they'd even let him keep it in the first place). But Tim can't let it go. It keeps him grounded during bad times. Like now.
Bruce is chasing down the Joker halfway across the world instead of searching for Tim's brother. Alfred is sleeping. Babs is in the hospital.
Dick is in space.
For the first time since he moved in with the Waynes, he feels completely alone.
When Bruce calls to let them know that he's found Jason, Tim is beyond relieved.
“You're not allowed to leave me ever again, Jay,” he cries over the phone.
“Jeez, Timmers,” Jason huffs. “You're acting like I died or something. You're worse than B!”
“You disappeared to a different country without me!” Tim yells. “You left me on my own.”
“God, you're so dramatic.”
Tim sputters. Jason is a million times more dramatic than he is.
Before Tim can voice this, Jason says quietly, “I just have to figure out who my mom is, Timbo.” He sighs. “I just need to know…”
Tim gets that. The need to know. But he still says, softly, “Blood relatives aren't always best.”
It's a lesson Tim learned the hard way. Jason had a mom who loved him. He has a family who loves him. Tim couldn't stand it if this other mother hurt his brother.
“I know,” Jason says, and Tim can practically hear the eye roll. “But Bruce is gonna be here, so even if she's shitty, he's got my back.”
“Dollar for the jar,” Tim mumbles.
Jason laughs. “If Alfred didn't hear it doesn't count!”
Tim smirks at where Alfred is standing nearby. He was definitely close enough to hear the swear. He'll probably take the dollar out of Jason's next allowance.
“I'll see you soon, Timmy. Love ya!”
Then Jason's gone, handing the phone back to Bruce before they leave to meet Sheila Haywood.
The next time Bruce phones, Jason's gone gone. It doesn't feel real.
All Tim can think is, “Dick was wrong.”
Nothing about this is alright.
Tim doesn't remember Bruce coming back from… from that place.
He doesn't remember Jason's… He doesn't remember the funeral.
He barely remembers anything from the month or so after his last phone call with Jay.
Except for Bruce and Dick arguing all the time.
B drinking alone in the study. Refusing to look at any of the rest of them.
Alfred – solid, unflappable Alfie – crying silently every time he makes one of Jason's favorite meals.
Dick leaving.
“You have to stay!” Tim pleads, voice breaking.
“I’ll be back,” Dick says, frustrated. “I just can't be around B right now.”
Tim says nothing, but chokes back sobs and clings to his brother so hard he has to be peeled away. He can't let go because the last time he let one of his brothers leave without him–
Dick doesn't look back as he slams the door behind him. Tim curls up on the floor of the foyer where he's been left behind again.
The whole point of becoming Tim Wayne was that he wasn't supposed to be alone anymore. But without Jason, everything's falling apart.
He sleeps in Jason's room the night Dick leaves. Or at least, he lies awake in Jason's room instead of lying awake in his own room.
Jason has Tim's photo from the Gazette framed above his desk, along with half a dozen other photos Tim's taken over the last two years. His bookshelves are full to bursting, but Silverwing sits on the desk, dog-eared and well-loved. Tim can see Jason's favorite Jane Austen bookmark sticking out of the top. His homework is half-finished underneath.
It's all wrong. Everything is still here, just the way Jay left it. Like he's going to waltz in the door any minute and tease Tim for making such a big deal of things. Before he chases Tim out of his room because “little brothers are the worst. Ever hear of privacy, Timbo?”
It's not fair.
“Miss you, Jay,” Tim whispers aloud in the dark. “Who's going to tell me what to read next, huh?”
He sniffs.
“Who's going to play Smash Bros with me? You know Dick sucks at it.”
Tim takes a breath. “You were the first person who loved me, Jay. What am I going to do without you?”
There's no answer. Of course there isn't. Jason's dead, and there's nothing Tim can do about it.
So he does the only thing he can do.
He wraps himself in Jason's blankets and cries into his pillow.
Tim deals with his grief by collecting data points over the next three months.
Point one – Jason died.
Point two – Nobody is coping well, but Bruce in particular is spiraling.
Point three – With the way Batman is acting, he's going to end up killing someone. Either a criminal or himself.
Tim's barely coping without his brother. He feels like he might crumble into dust if he loses his dad, too. So he waits for Bruce in the cave before patrol. Alfred is nearby somewhere. Probably making tea, so when this inevitably goes wrong, Tim will at least have a hot drink to calm him down.
Batman almost knocks Tim over in his rush to get ready. It's like he hasn't even noticed him.
“Bruce!”
Bruce ignores him in favor of checking for any alerts on the Batcomputer.
“Batman,” Tim corrects. B won't answer to “Bruce” when he's in the cowl. Jason complains… Jason complained about it all the time.
Bruce grunts, but whirls towards the Batmobile.
Only one thing for it.
“Dad! Please.”
Bruce pauses.
“I'm sorry, Tim,” he says briskly. “I need to go. We'll talk later.”
He gets behind the wheel and speeds out of the cave.
Before, that would have upset Tim. Now? After two years of unconditional love and the loss of his brother?
It makes him mad.
He's so done with everyone he loves thinking they can leave him.
Tim picks up a headset for the comms. He's connected to Bruce's cowl, obviously, but he also monitors GCPD channels, listening for overlaps.
Alfred places a cup of chamomile tea in front of him and sits down with the second headset.
“... we're gonna need an ambulance down here. Looks like a couple of broken ribs. Perp’s coughing up blood, so we ain't gonna risk movin’ him…”
“Hey, B?” Tim says. Bruce doesn't respond. Tim didn't expect him to.
He carries on anyway. “Remember six months ago when Robin broke that rapist's ribs, and you said it was ‘reckless and irresponsible’?”
Alfred sips his tea. Bruce stays silent.
“I just wondered why it's not reckless and irresponsible for Batman to break a mugger’s ribs?”
That gets a reaction. But not the one Tim wants.
“No chatter on comms, T.”
It's okay. Tim can do this all night.
He waits for the next Bat-related ambulance call-out.
“Huh. So broken collar bone is a no-go for pimps but totally fine for convenience store robberies.”
Bruce growls down the line.
And the next.
“Two broken legs, three broken arms, and at least one concussion, B? You know none of these guys have chosen to work with Ivy, right?”
“Agent A,” Batman snaps. “It's a school night. Make sure T gets enough sleep.”
Alfred does make Tim go to bed.
He also makes a detour through the kitchen to give Tim a giant mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. That's how Tim knows there's at least one adult in his life that still has his back.
So begins Tim's nightly ritual.
Batman patrols. Tim monitors.
Tim calls out when Batman risks crossing the line. Bruce sends Tim to bed.
Alfred gives Tim sneaky rewards. Hot chocolate, mainly. Occasionally, cookies if he stops something really bad.
It isn't really working as such. Batman is still too violent. Bruce is still too lost in grief to be fully present. It makes Tim feel a bit better, though, so he keeps it up.
Every time he calls Bruce out, he feels like he's defending Jay. It's like he can hear him urging him on.
You tell that hypocritical asshole, Timmers, Jason whispers in Tim's ear.
But the one that finally gets Bruce's attention isn't anything Batman did intentionally.
He's chasing down a suspect in a murder case. Batman and the potential-murderer are leaping across rooftops. The cops follow on the ground.
All it takes is one misstep for the crook to tumble 30 storeys. Lucky for him, Batman manages to catch him just before he becomes a smear on the pavement. The cops take over from there.
“Did he fall, B?” Tim asks. “Or was he pushed?”
Even Tim's imaginary Jason-voice is stunned into silence.
“Enough,” Batman says, over the comms. Then he closes the line.
Tim puts himself to bed.
There's no hot chocolate from Alfred tonight.
Bruce knocks on Tim's door in the early hours of the morning.
“Can I come in?” he asks gently as he pokes his head in. He sounds more like the dad who once opened his door to the neglected neighbor kid, and less like the Bat taking his grief out on Gotham, so Tim shrugs and makes a “go ahead” gesture.
Bruce sits awkwardly hunched over on Tim's bed. This close, Tim can see the bags under his red-rimmed eyes. The new wrinkles and grey hairs the last few months have given him.
“I'm sorry, Tim,” he says.
Tim will never get used to adults apologising to him.
“I…” Bruce coughs. Looks up at the ceiling. Clutches the bedsheets and starts again. “I have made a lot of mistakes recently.” He exhales. “And rather than acknowledging them, or behaving better, I buried my head in the sand.”
He takes Tim's hand. “Thank you for making me face things again. I'm sorry I put you in the position where you felt like you had to.”
Tim shuffles. Traces the pattern on his sheets with his free hand. “I don't mind, B.”
“I do,” Bruce says.
They sit in silence for a few seconds. Then Bruce opens his mouth, frowns, and closes it again.
“Dad?” Tim prompts.
“I'm going to ask you something, Tim,” Bruce replies slowly. He squeezes Tim's hand tighter. “You're allowed to say no.”
Tim nods. Bruce always makes sure Tim knows he can turn down his requests. It's reassuring.
“Will you stay on comms with me?”
Tim ponders for a moment. Grasps for his beanie frog. He imagines Jason nodding at him encouragingly. You got this, Timmers!
“Actually, I, uh…” Tim stammers. “I, um, wondered if I… that is, if you… But if not, it's fine!”
Bruce smiles at him. He's always so patient when Tim struggles with his words.
“Can I be Robin?” Tim blurts.
Tim doesn't get an answer that night. Bruce needs to think it over. It's a big decision. Tim gets that.
So he does what he's always done when he has something to work through.
He talks to Jason.
Tim leans back onto Jason's tombstone. It's still super weird to think that his brother's under the ground here. So Tim tries not to think about it.
“Hey, Jay,” he says as he settles. “I saw this book in the library, and I figured it seemed like the sort of thing you would have recommended.”
He rummages for a while in his backpack. No matter how often he clears it out, it always seems full of empty wrappers and crumpled papers.
“Ah! Here!” He pulls the book out triumphantly. “Artemis Fowl. It's fantasy, I think, but it sounds kind of tech-y too. So hopefully I won't ruin it for you like I did with Harry Potter.”
Tim's stomach twists at the thought that Jason will never find out how the series ends. He adds Harry Potter to his mental list of things to stop thinking about.
“Anyway, I spoke to B last night…” Tim sighs. “It's not good for him to be out there on his own. And I…”
He plucks at the grass on the grave, tearing it apart in his fingers as he thinks.
“I need something to feel close to you.” It's as near as he can get to the truth. “I didn't really want to be out there before, y’know? I just liked taking photos and hearing your stories. I would have been happy to stay on comms forever. But now…”
Tim blinks back tears. He hates that he cries so easily. Jason never made him feel bad for it, though. So he keeps talking.
“If it can't be you… I think I've got to try.” Tim opens the book. “I think you would have wanted me to try.”
He clears his throat and starts to read: “How does one describe Artemis Fowl? Various psychiatrists have tried and failed…”
It takes a week, but finally Bruce gives Tim an answer.
He finds Tim in the Manor's library. There's a reading nook Jason used to curl up in when he wanted to be alone. Tim's been spending more time there over the last few months.
“Hey, Tim,” Bruce says gently as he takes a seat nearby. “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”
Tim has his library book open, glancing at the pages as he scribbles in his notebook.
“I'm just translating the code in the book,” Tim explains, lifting Artemis Fowl to show Bruce. “There are all these little symbols at the bottom of each page, and when I took the dust jacket off the book by accident–” He demonstrates, showing the hardback cover with the same symbols in place of the title. “– I discovered there's a key.”
He pauses, looking at what he has so far. “I think it's a hint to what's going to happen in the next book.”
Bruce smiles. “Excellent detective work,” he says with a soft chuckle.
Tim almost rolls his eyes. Breaking a code in a kids’ book is hardly the biggest investigation he's done. But Bruce continues.
“Just what I'd expect from Robin.”
Tim finishes the line he’s translating before the words register. Then he freezes.
“You mean it?!” he asks.
“There are a few conditions we need to discuss,” Bruce says carefully. “But if you want to be out there with me, I'd love to have you at my side.”
Bruce's smile turns down a little. His eyes get a slightly faraway look to them. “I think Jason would have been happy to pass the mantle on to you, Tim.”
Tim drops his notebook and throws his arms around his dad.
They sit in the library and cry together until it's time for dinner.
That night, Tim sends Dick a text.
T: u shud cum round 2moro
It only takes a few seconds before the screen of his battered Nokia 3330 lights up with Dick’s reply. His stomach flips.
D: dont no if im ready 4 seeing B
Tim expected that, but he needs Dick to be here. He can't imagine starting Robin training without him.
T: u cant keep avoiding us
T: i hav news i want 2 tell u
D: tell me now?
T: no. in person.
T: pls dick
D: fine. c u 2moro
D: luv u timmy
Tim grins and puts down the phone. He's going to fix this family, one stubborn asshole at a time.