Chapter Text
The patrol had gone sideways almost immediately. Tim wasn’t sure what bug had crawled up Damian’s ass but he was too tired to deal with it. It was supposed to be a nice, boring patrol but just Tim’s luck, they stumbled across a warehouse full of hostages with Nightwing and Bruce across the city too busy dealing with the Scarecrow to provide back-up. That left Tim and the thorn in his side to manage a situation far too delicate for Damian’s inexperience or Tim’s frazzled nerves.
His body felt heavy from exhaustion but his mind was running too fast. With no backup and a challenging situation to deal with, he couldn’t afford stupid mistakes. He gave himself two breaths, the cold air grounding him, sharpening his thoughts.
Get in, save everyone, don’t kill the tiny bastard, get out, go to sleep, Tim chanted to himself. His silent mantra worked all the way until the point the little brat pushed a pile of crates onto Tim, catching one of the hostages in the hip and knocking her to the ground.
Oh, it’s on. Tim thought as he dragged himself out from under the pile of wood. The kevlar protected him from the splinters and dampened some of the crush but not enough to fully avoid bruises down his back. And what’s that? Wonderful, a nail found the gap between his shoulder brace and his arm padding.
He shook off the remaining broken wood and stalked towards his “little brother.” Angry Damian could give Tim a run for his money, but Angry Tim was too many steps ahead of the younger boy for it to even be a contest. Damian landed a few hard strikes but Tim had him secured to a pipe in under three minutes. He had the remaining hostages freed and criminals dispatched in another seven.
He wasn’t surprised to see Damian had freed himself in that amount of time. Now that the situation was dealt with, he could fully vent his non-existent spleen on the little shit.
“What the hell was that Damian? I thought you were finally past acting like a homicidal toddler!”
“You should have never returned from Nanda Parbat. You should have stayed where you were actually wanted.” Damian glared at Tim, his eyes narrowed with anger. If Tim was less angry he would have noticed a tension around Damian’s mouth, clearly showing an insecurity the boy wasn’t willing to voice.
Tim had the smaller boy by the front of his uniform. His back and shoulder ached in protest. “You almost killed that woman and sabotaged our mission because you’re jealous? Am I translating the demon-brat bullshit correctly here?”
Damian tried to look menacing but landed closer to cornered cat. “Jealous of you? No one even likes you. You brought father back and he still ignores you. You’re only here on this mission to babysit me while Batman and Nightwing take care of Scarecrow. You’re spare parts. No, worse than that because they still think you’re crazy too.”
Tim angrily hissed and released the boy, trying not to show how close Damian’s words cut him. He was far too tired to get into any of it with the brat. His brain felt muffled and incapable of stringing sentences together. “Listen kid, your problem is clearly with B, go work it out with him. I’m not your emotional punching bag.”
He made it almost halfway to his safehouse when Batman’s voice cut across his radio. “Red Robin, return to base to debrief.”
Fear spiked through him, a legacy of old memories whispering that he had done something wrong and would pay for it. He opened and closed his hand, focusing on the feeling of gloves on his fingers, mapped where the cold air found gaps in his armor.
He was an adult now. He didn’t have to fear an authority’s ire. He could stand up for himself. Tam was always reminding him he won’t get help if he never asks for it.
“I’m headed to a safehouse, I’ll open a secure channel when I arrive to debrief over comms.”
“Return to base to debrief.”
Sighing, Tim changed direction and made his way back to the cave. What’s one more night without sleep? Six hours spread across a week - that’s plenty when you caffeinate enough, right?
Of course, too much coffee had the added bonus of letting his thoughts race a mile a minute as he traversed the city. What the hell does Bruce want anyway? It’s not like we’re a team who debriefs anymore. Or rather, it’s not like you’re a part of the team who debriefs. He used to be, back when he was Robin.
Damian was right, Red Robin was good enough to babysit when the rest of the team were doing real work, but he wasn’t invited around to discuss missions or anything like that. He was the independent operator, swooping in to help and then making himself scarce.
He had hoped in the first few months after he brought Bruce back, maybe things could be different. Maybe there was no way for him to be a real part of the team again, not with everything that had happened, but he could at least be a part of the family, right? Saving someone’s life had to be worth at least a thank you dinner or two. But instead, everything got worse for Tim and better for everyone else.
Tim had thought he made in-roads with Damian but it seemed the jealousy was merely mollified by ousting him as Robin and driving him from the manor. Learning of the renewed attentions his grandfather paid his rival brought out the worst in the boy. Tim hoped Damian would be over it soon. The manor was no longer his home but he didn’t want to return to it being a place where he had to be constantly onguard. He had carved out so few safe places for himself.
As he braced his hand on the side of the tunnel down to the Batcave, he considered breaching his strict never-ask-for-anything rule twice in one night. Surely Bruce wouldn’t say no to him staying over after dragging his ass all the way across Gotham, especially not when he knew Tim had a board meeting early the next morning.
He’d earned himself a stay at the manor considering the sacrifices he’d made. Maybe the night could help bridge a path back for Tim even as Damian was clearly determined to set the bridge on fire.
Screw the little shit, he doesn’t get to dictate anything to me.
All thoughts of asking disappeared as soon as Tim saw the look on Batman’s face. He pulled off his cowl, hoping an unfiltered view would change the scowl into something less angry. It didn’t. Tim was suddenly reminded of his early days with Bruce, when the man was all anger and violence.
“You attacked Damian.” Bruce’s voice was steel.
“What? No, Damian attacked me, he -“
“You’re an adult, Damian is a child. I don’t care what he said to provoke you. You attacked an ally in the middle of a mission.” Batman didn’t yell but each word was etched with an ominous force. “Worse, you compromised your cover while hostages were not yet secured. You’re all over the place, Tim. If you can’t pull yourself together for a basic mission, you shouldn’t be out in the field at all.”
Tim's hands began to shake, the barest of tremors beginning beneath his gloves. His breath froze in his lungs and he had to force out his words, his voice coming out sounding like a child.
“I’m not compromised, that’s not what happened -“
Batman crowded into his space. Tim wasn’t afraid exactly, he told himself, just rightfully wary of a larger, more highly skilled fighter. He tried to tell himself he was safe with Bruce, but memories whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him when that wasn’t true.
It had been awhile since someone he loved had struck him, but a core part of him had never left that space. He was eight years old wishing his dad would get bored already and leave, while drowning in guilt for thinking a few bruises weren’t worth having his family home. He was twelve, struggling and failing to execute a block combination as Batman hit him again and again before walking away in disgust. He was sixteen and wondering if his childhood hero was going to kill him.
Batman's voice broke through Tim’s thoughts, “I know this is a new pattern you’ve fallen into, isolating yourself for weeks before lashing out at Damian, but this can’t continue.”
Tim’s heart was ice. “What? It’s not like that, that’s not what -“
Batman cut across him viciously, “Was everyone lying about what things were like while I was gone? Dick, Damian, even Alfred filled me in on your volatility. And to take it out on Damian who’s already had difficulties you couldn’t dream of, I won’t allow that to continue.” He paused a second before continuing, his voice deepening to a growl. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with your…alliance with Ra’s. I’ll expect a full accounting for your lack of discretion before I trust you in uniform again.”
Tim stared at Batman in horror. It was bad enough to hear those months Tim spent in forced isolation rewritten to be the fault of his own mental instability but this was Captain Boomerang all over again. All his “brothers” would be forgiven their trespasses, even literal murder, but not Tim. Bruce would always believe him capable of joining the rogues at any moment.
“Leave the uniform, you’re benched.”
Tim rocked back on his heels, barely able to breathe. He could not have his identity stolen from him again to protect Damian - that was too much. “You can’t bench me, Red Robin is mine.”
Batman grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Gotham city is mine. Leave the uniform.”
Tim grasped Batman’s wrist, twisting almost gently but enough to dislodge the man’s hold on him. He paced backwards out of his reach. “We can discuss this tomorrow, I can’t deal with this shit today.”
Tim had almost made it to the back exit when he felt the air shift behind him. He turned to meet Batman’s blow, shocked to realize the man held a razor sharp batarang in his hand. He parried the point away from him, then hissed as a spark of pain snagged on the flesh of his neck. Batman had answered his parry, catching the collar of his uniform with a second batarang.
“Do you want me to cut it off of you?” Batman’s voice was so deep and angry, Tim could feel it more than he could hear it.
He shook his head.
Batman angled the batarang so the point dug into his collarbone, “Answer me.”
“No, sir.” Tim’s voice was quiet, an echo of the same words said so many times before in similar situations. The question might be different and the type of injury changed, but this seemed to be a play Tim would never outgrow. He thought he had escaped the trap when his father had died and again when he moved out of the manor, but he would forever be a child desperately trying to appease his father.
“Leave the uniform. Don’t come back here until I tell you to.”
The cold steel was removed from his skin but Tim remained standing there for some time after the footsteps faded upstairs. It was difficult to pull off the uniform. Every part of him ached and a few muscles completely refused to obey him. Worse, it felt like slicing off a part of himself. Like he stripped the skin from his bones. Maybe he should have let Batman cut it off of him. The spot of pain on his neck felt like an honest sort of pain, completely unlike the humiliated trembling that had taken over the rest of him.
He didn’t have clothes to change into. The manor was no longer his home and he hadn’t expected to have to come back here anytime soon. He figured Batman would just have to be ok with the top half of the uniform. Without the cowl and shirt, it would be impossible to go out as Red Robin; it would have to do. He left both folded neatly on a bench, along with his utility belts and cape. He pocketed the Red Robin insignia and took the bo staff. The thought of Damian adding either to his own costume made him want to stand in front of a bus.
It took several hours to get himself back to the loft, the sky beginning to lighten with the approaching dawn. The forced hike across the city had done little to quiet the maelstrom inside his head. His bones ached with cold, the blood dripping down his bare chest felt frozen. As he put in the security passcodes, he debated if he could get away with just collapsing into bed, but he knew he couldn’t allow his wounds to fester.
He stumbled blindly into his bathroom, fishing the first aid kit out from beneath his sink. Nightwing was standing behind him when he stood up.