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Tim stares at the glowing screen in front of him, his vision blurry and unfocused as he so desperately tries to fight off the fuzzy warmth creeping through the edges of his mind. The computer light has dimmed from lack of input, which Tim didn’t even know the bat computer could do, but after a few moments, the screen finally goes dark, and Tim can’t find it within himself to care.
“Tim, you okay over there?” A voice from behind Tim asks, startling the boy as he turns around to identify who was there. Tim gulps, plastering on a fake smile as he begs his brain to let him speak, no matter how awful it makes him feel.
“Oh, Dick. Yeah, sorry. I’m good. Long night, y’know?” Tim laughs stiffly, pretending like everything is fine even though he knows that Dick will see right through him, but he can still hope.
“Yeah, right. You haven’t moved in over an hour. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were dissociating.” Dick raises an eyebrow, leaning against one of the cave walls.
“Nope, just focused on a case, you know how it is. Actually–” Tim pushes himself off the chair, heading towards the exit of the cave– “I think I’m gonna head home for the night, get some sleep. See ya’ tomorrow,” Tim says with fake cherriness, not bothering to let Dick respond as he throws his bag over his shoulder and runs out the cave, begging the fuzziness to at least let him make it to the Drake Manor before it takes over.
The moment he reaches his room, he stops fighting and lets the warmth spread through him, collapsing on his bed as sobs rack his frame, loneliness weighing deep in his heart the way it does every time he allows himself to regress.
Sometimes, he wishes he never gave in in the first place, but he didn’t have a choice, and he knows that fighting it, suppressing it, would just make it worse, a fact that he is reminded of every time he ignores the float-like feeling of his little side, every time he has to work through horrible migraines and fevers, every time he nearly slips in from of his team– his friends– just because they made him laugh, or gave him a hug, or made him feel safe in a way he’s never felt before, but he can’t, he won’t let them find out, because they’d hate him, and he wouldn’t be able to blame them, because he hates himself, too. Who wouldn’t?
~~~
Tim analyzes the board with the eyes of one of the world’s greatest detectives, his fingers wandering up to his mouth in a way that feels so natural that he doesn’t even notice, mind running a mile a minute as he bites his nails. Kon groans.
“Dude, just take your turn, it really isn’t that deep,” he complains, throwing himself on the ground in a way that makes Tim smile and let out a soft, nearly silent giggle as he finally moves his game piece, allowing Cassie to finally get her turn. It takes Tim a moment to realize the room has gone silent and his three friends were staring at him. Tim frowns and finally comes back to his senses, quickly withdrawing his fingers from their place in his mouth and wipes them on his shirt, avoiding his friends’ confused gazes.
“Sorry, I bite my nails sometimes,” Tim lies, hoping that his excuse is good enough to not raise any concern.
“No, that’s– you just like, giggled. Like, full on giggled. I didn’t even know you knew how to do that. Also, you’ve never bitten your nails before, you always pick at them, but never bite them.” Kon points out, sitting up from where he had previously thrown himself on the ground. Tim’s smile drops and his eyes flit from Kon, to Cassie, to Bart, and back, their questioning gazes digging into his skull. Tim ignores the tears threatening to spill, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the child-like hurt creeping through him, but the action just serves to make his headache worse. He doesn’t want to leave, because he’s having so much fun with his friends playing games, but he also knows that the longer he stays in their presence, the more control that leaves him, and the more he feels his little headspace seeping into his actions. Tim doesn’t notice Cassie’s eyebrows furrow, nor does he notice the heat on his face or the strain on his throat.
“Hey, we didn’t mean to hurt you, there’s no reason to cry,” Cassie speaks gently in a way that Tim knows he doesn’t deserve, but the words still push him deeper into his headspace. His heart constricts and he finally stands from his spot, hands fidgeting.
“No, sorry, I’m not feeling good, I’m gonna sleep.” Tim states, hating the way his voice breaks as he tries to complete every word, not letting his lisp show through, turning on his heel and scurrying up the stairs to the sleeping quarters.
The moment the door closes, he lets out a strangled scream and finally lets the tears fall, his cries silent against the sound of his fan running.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid! You ruin everything, don’t you? Everything was going so perfect, too,” he bangs his head against the wood of the door, delighting in the way that he knows it’ll bruise the next day. His breaths come in sharp, angry bursts as he stumbles across the room, ignoring the sound of something falling and breaking, deeming it a problem for later-Tim, instead focusing solely on trying to find the small bunny plush he brings everywhere with him, the only source of comfort he allows himself.
He throws his bag open and digs through it, most everything ending up on the floor in an attempt to find the plush, but to no avail. He checks the bed next, throwing the pillows on the ground in his haste, but nothing there either, so he checks the closet. Nothing. The bathroom? Nothing, too. Tim starts to panic, repeating the word ‘no’ over and over again like a mantra as he continues to dig through everything again, three times, four, but his precious plush is nowhere to be found, and he knows he left it at home, but he doesn’t want to accept it, because that would mean he made a mistake, he forgot something, and that’s unacceptable because he must be perfect. If he isn’t, then is he even worth keeping around?
His tears start to fall freely, gathering on the carpet below him as his mind starts yelling at him, calling him useless and pathetic in a way that he wishes he knew how to control, but he knows that isn’t possible and he can’t even muster up the energy to clean himself– or his room– when he hears the sound of knocks echoing throughout his room.
“Hey, Rob, I’m gonna come in, okay? Me and the others are worried, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. We heard something crash and I want to check you in case you got hurt, ‘kay?” Tim doesn’t respond, letting Kon enter his room. ‘Just another thing you ruined’, his brain mocks, ‘making your friends worry about you, but you aren’t worth their concern, you’re just a burden, how dare you make them worry’.
Tim lets out a sob, allowing his body to finally collapse onto the floor.
“Crap, Rob? Are you okay? What happened?” Kon lets out a stream of curses, not that Tim can hear them over his own cries, as he rushes to Tim’s side, calling out Cassie and Bart’s name before tucking Tim into his chest, whispering comforting words in an attempt to calm Tim’s cries, not commenting on the trainwreck that is Tim’s normally-pristine room, even as Bart and Cassie rush into the room, panicked as Tim finally lets go and loses consciousness.
~~~
When Tim comes back to himself, he realizes he’s tucked into Cassie’s lap, head rested against Bart’s arm. He allows himself a few moments to enjoy the warmth of the two before sitting up, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the faint light of the living room lamp, the gentle chatter happening above him going quiet.
“Good morning,” Bart whispers, his touch still a ghost on Tim’s skin.
“It’s mornin’?” Tim asks, the confusion on his face growing deeper when he hears Kon’s snort.
“It’s actually the middle of the night, but we didn’t want to sleep ‘till we knew you were okay.” Kon explains. Tim’s eyebrows furrow at that.
“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” Tim tilts his head miniscully.
“Tim…” Cassie pauses, “What do you remember of last night?” She seems to decide on asking after a moment. Tim tries to recall anything he can about the past eight hours, but comes up blank.
“Nothing? What happened, is someone hurt?” Tim’s eyes go wide as he looks around the room for any hint of what might be going on.
“Just you.” Bart replies.
“What do you mean? I’m fine.” Tim plasters on a fake smile, ignoring the pounding in his head and the warm feeling of getting taken care of, pushing that as far down as he can because he knows that if he allows himself to feel that, it would just make him want more, and he isn’t allowed to want.
“Tim, you…” Kon tries to explain, “you, I don’t know.” He takes a deep breath. “Last night, we were playing games and you got upset and started crying, and when Cassie pointed that out, you said you were going to bed but after a few minutes, we heard a crash and got worried, so we went up to check on you, and your head was bleeding and you were crying so loudly and then you just passed out. What happened?” Desperation leaks into Kon’s voice, his eyes wide with unasked questions and concerns. As Tim processes what happened, realization dawns on him, his worst nightmares coming to life. He slipped, he slipped and cried in his friends’ arms and they’re all going to hate him not because they’re going to realize he’s a freak and they’re going to leave him and the only good thing that has ever happened to Tim is going to slip out of his grasp and he’s going to be miserable and lonely for the rest of his life.
“I have to go,” Tim’s voice cracks, making an attempt to rush out the door and to the zeta tubes, ignoring his unstable legs. He hears the sound of Bart speeding and before he can make it five feet, Bart appears in front of him and grabs his forearms with a gentle grasp, but still tight enough to prevent Tim from fighting too much.
“You aren’t leaving until you tell us what happened.” Bart states with finality, walking Tim back to the couch and ignoring his protests.
“No, I can’t, please, just let me go.” Tim begs, uncharacteristically. Bart merely shakes his head and sits him back on the couch, throwing his own legs over Tim’s to keep him seated. “Please,” Tim asks one more time, sounding broken and pathetic in a way he hates with all his heart.
“Just tell us, it can’t be that bad,” Cassie urges, but Tim shakes his head.
“I can’t, I can’t, you’ll hate me. You have to, ‘cause I hate myself and you’ll have to hate me too, because I’m awful and gross and weird and you have to hate me,” tears begin to trail down his cheeks, Tim rubbing his eyes so hard they start to ache, not noticing the look that his three friends share.
“Tim, nothing you do could ever make us hate you,” Cassie tells him through her own confusion, her warm hand grabbing his cheek with such gentleness that Tim has never felt. “No matter what you do, or who you are, we will still love you, no matter what, okay?” She speaks sternly, but with so much love in her voice that Tim feels the need to cry all over again as she leads him back to the couch. He tries to fight, he really does, but he’s just so tired of fighting and he just wants to be happy, why can’t he be happy?
The other three let Tim take his time, and for that, he is eternally grateful, because he knows that if they tried to rush him, he never would’ve gotten it out.
“I’m a little.” He finally whispers, barely noticeable, but the three still hear him loud and clear.
“A little… what?” Kon asks, confused. Tim shakes his head and sniffles.
“I’m a little, which means I,” he pauses, “I regress. To a younger headspace. It’s a trauma response, and I can’t help it.”
“Okay.” Bart says, causing Tim to look at him weirdly.
“Okay?” He repeats. Bart nods.
“Yeah. Okay. You can’t help it, and it’s a trauma response. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with that. We aren’t gonna hate you just ‘cause you sometimes have to curl up in comfy pj’s and watch cartoons.” Bart shrugs. Tim shakes his head hesitantly.
“No, it… it isn’t like that. I can’t control it, and if I don’t let myself regress, then I get really sick and it hurts to think and my mind goes all fuzzy and I can’t do anything, but if I let myself regress, then I’m practically useless and also can’t do anything. It makes me weak.” Tim tries to explain, but the others don’t understand.
“So why don’t you just let yourself regress? That way you can still do stuff without getting sick.” Kon asks.
“I can’t,” Tim answers.
“Why?” Kon presses.
“I just can’t! Do you know how awful it felt to be completely alone as a child? I already went through that once, and now my body is making me go through it again?! It sucks, and all I ever feel is empty and lonely and I don’t want to feel that again, I can’t,” Tim stresses, face going red as he tries to prevent his tears from falling for the god-knows-how-many-th time that day. The three seem to consider that, and Tim thinks he finally got through to them, but Kon still asks,
“So just… don’t be alone? If that’s the problem, just regress or whatever with someone else there.” Tim scoffs.
“Yeah, because people are just lining up at the door to take care of a 15 year old baby.” Tim glares at Kon for the idiocy of that comment.
“I’d take care of you.” Cassie says after a moment. “Obviously, this is your body’s way of trying to redo all the things you never got to experience as a child, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’d love to help.” Cassie states, her voice light as if she didn’t just rock Tim’s entire worldview.
“You don’t want to see me like that,” Tim tries.
“Says who? You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t want. If I want to help you, why should you not let me?” Tim doesn’t respond, instead, he stares at Cassie, dumbfounded.
“I’d be happy to help, too. If that’s what it takes to keep our Robin in tip-top shape, then I’d love to help, ‘cause that just means we get to spend more time with you.” Bart adds, climbing into Tim’s lap to nuzzle into his neck. Tim absent-mindedly wraps his arms around Bart’s waist and unconsciously glances at Kon, trying to gouge out his reaction. Kon smiles.
“I’ll help, too. You deserve to have people take care of you.” Tim wraps himself around Bart, face flushing at Kon’s words.
“Thank you,” Tim mumbles. Bart giggles and leaves a fleeting kiss on Tim’s cheek.
“You’re gonna be adorable,” Bart decides with a rather proud smile aimed at both Cassie and Kon. The other two hum in agreement and let the conversation drift, not commenting on Tim’s shy smile.
~~~
“How are we supposed to do this? Do we just, like, wait for you to regress? Or is there something we’re supposed to do?” Kon trails off, watching Tim, who’s wearing his favorite shirt and pj pants, his precious bunny in his arms. Tim shakes his head.
“I’ve never actually let myself regress, so I don’t really know how to? It’s always been a last resort.” Tim shrugs, hiding his face in his knees.
“Well, what usually makes you feel like you’re gonna regress?” Cassie probes. Tim thinks for a moment before responding.
“I always feel small when you guys start to take care of me.” Tim’s voice is quiet, as if he’s embarrassed to be admitting that.
“So, when we get you water or food or something?” Cassie clarifies, letting out a small puff of breath when Tim shakes his head, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.
“More like when you give me a hug, or tell me I did good on a mission, stuff like that,” Tim’s voice gets even quieter towards the middle of his statement, before ending with more confident words. Tim lifts his face from his knees when he feels the couch deep beside him, letting out a small huff of laughter when he sees the silly face Kon’s making.
“Do you want a hug?” Kon asks, his eyebrow raised so high it’s almost comical, and Tim can’t help but feel grateful for Kon’s over-exaggerated facial expressions, even if he’ll never admit that. Tim nods his head and crawls into Kon’s open arms, shifting a bit to get comfortable before going boneless against Kon’s strong chest. “Don’t fight it, let yourself go, Rob. You deserve a break,” Kon whispers as he wraps his arms around Tim’s frame, unknowingly (or maybe knowingly, Tim still thinks that Kon is hiding a mind-reading power from them with how often he seems to know exactly what Tim is thinking) dispelling all the insecurities and walls that Tim has built up. Kon smiles when he notices Tim finally relaxing in a way that his Robin never has, a sense of pride gnawing at his chest knowing that he was the one to finally get Tim to relax and let the others take care of him.
“I dunno ‘ow much I’m gonna ta’k, I migh’ be really quiet.” Tim mumbles sleepily, not fully pronouncing all his words, causing Bart to have to physically restrain himself from cooing from how gosh darn cute their Robin is.
“You don’t gotta say a word,” Bart proudly proclaims, puffing up his chest in confidence that he can tell what Tim needs without a single word being spoken.
“t’sank you,” Tim sniffles, nuzzling even closer to Kon.
After a couple of minutes, Timmy turns his head to look at Bart and Cassie, his eyes wide with sleepy wonder and he lifts his head from Kon’s chest, wobbling a bit as sits fully up.
“Hi,” he giggles breathily, sleepily blinking as a small, boyish smile grows in his face.
“Hi,” Cassie replies, amused as Bart clambers over to sit in front of Timmy.
“My name’s Bart.” He states with faux-seriousness. Timmy giggles again and flops back onto Kon’s chest, turning himself sideways so as to be able to watch the other two.
“‘M Timmy.” He greets, bringing the ear of his bunny stuffie to his mouth to chew on. Bart nods seriously and pulls Timmy into his own lap, ignoring Kon’s glare as he stares into Timmy’s eyes.
“What do you wanna do?” Bart asks, and Timmy seems to think about that.
“I wan’... brownie?” Timmy decides, causing Kon to laugh.
“We don’t have any brownies.” Kon responds, still snickering. Timmy turns to look at Kon with a pout.
“‘Den make some.” He orders, as if the answer was obvious. Kon, not being able to hold it in any longer, bursts out laughing.
“Yeah, Kon, make some brownies for the kid.” Cassie snorts, throwing Kon a playful smirk. Timmy hums in agreement, nodding his head with all the seriousness he can muster.
“Pwease?” Timmy gives him the world’s-most-lethal puppy eyes, Kon just sighing and resigning himself to his fate.
“How old are you?” Bart asks rather suddenly. Timmy shrugs.
“Dunno.” Bart seems to accept that answer, squeezing Timmy a bit tighter, which causes yet another giggle to bubble out of him.
“You’re quite giggly, aren’t you?” Bart comments. Timmy nods his head with a bright smile.
“Yes!” He exclaims, looking up at Bart with his bunny’s ears still in his mouth, Bart’s attention getting drawn towards it.
“Do you have something else to chew on?” Bart asks, frowning. Timmy shakes his head.
“Mmm, no. Big Timmy don’t wanna get me anyting.” Timmy states with an odd sense of pride, as if that were a good thing. Bart exchanges a glance with Kon and Cassie, concern written on all of their faces.
“Well, how about we change that?” Cassie’s voice is soft, the same one she uses when talking to hurt children, which he supposes still applies to the situation.
“No. Big Tim’ll be mad.” Timmy shakes his head once more.
“That’s okay, we can talk to him. He won’t get mad, promise.” Cassie tries, but Timmy still looks hesitant.
“You can’t pwomise ‘dat.” He mumbles around his bunny’s ear, a frown growing on his face. Why can’t they understand that Big Tim doesn’t like him? He shouldn’t even be there, and the only reason that Tim lets him stay is because he doesn’t know how to get rid of him, but that doesn’t mean that Big Tim would indulge Timmy! Timmy is perfectly fine with his bunny, he doesn’t need anything else (he desperately tries to convince himself, even if he knows that the deep rooted sense of want buried in him isn’t just a want for other’s affection, but also items that would allow him the comfort he seeks).
Timmy sees the look that the others give each other, but pretends he doesn’t. Instead, he sniffles and tries to keep down the tears that are welling up in his eyes down, causing the three teenagers to panic, but Timmy decides that they deserve it.
“Don’ wan’ Tim ta’ hate me,” Timmy sniffles again and lets the tears roll down his cheeks, burying his face in the matted fur of his well-loved bunny.
“Okay,” Cassie soothes, “okay, how about we talk to Tim, then?” She asks, but Timmy still shakes his head.
“No!” He shouts. The other three drop it.
“Cassie,” Kon stage whispers, “do you know how to make brownies?” He says in a playful fashion, grinning when he hears Timmy giggle. Cassie shakes her head.
“Looks like you gotta learn, Boy Blue.” Cassie gives him a cheshire-cat-like grin.
“Yeah, C’one boy!” Timmy kicks his feet softly. Kon sighs overdramatically and resigns himself to making brownies.
“How can I say no to that cute smile?” Kon pinches Timmy’s cheek, much to Timmy’s dismay, and gets up, heading towards the kitchen. “If I burn down the kitchen, it isn’t my fault!” He calls out behind himself, disappearing soon after. The two caregivers turn their attention back to the little.
“Well, what should we do now?” Cassie aims her questions towards Timmy, but he doesn’t say anything, instead nuzzling deeper into Bart’s chest, staring back at Cassie with wide eyes. She and Bart share a look, but otherwise say nothing, waiting for Timmy to say something, anything, really. He doesn’t.
An hour later, Kon comes back into the room, harboring a plateful of brownies that are devoured within minutes. The three ignore the mess of the kitchen that Kon left behind, deciding that it’s a problem for future-them.