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Tim got angry about being fired; he did overreact.
Still, he would have liked a retirement party instead of being fired without the boss even bothering to tell him personally.
That was just rude.
Tim should have been awarded Employee of the Year every year, given that he had to deal with Bruce’s mopey moods.
But he had to admit that he enjoyed himself so much that he forgot it was a position in a family business. Damian demanding it and taking it made sense, especially given how things worked in the League of Assassins. They really should get an HR department. Other businesses were much more structured, and Damian should learn that if he ever wanted to take over Wayne Enterprises.
⸻
Bruce tried to steer Tim away from the wrong conclusions. None of his sons had ever reacted well to seeing a new child in their colors.
“Tim, Damian is not taking your place as Robin. He is not ready for those responsibilities, and I did not agree to it. He stole the suit from Jason’s case.”
What Tim heard was: Damian pulled a Tim for his own reasons and just needed some training before taking over as Robin.
Tim tried to talk to Damian, apologizing for how badly he had reacted to being fired as Robin. Now he understood that the position should be filled by family; it was a family business, after all.
Of course, the conversation couldn’t be calm and simple—that wasn’t how the Bats rolled. So they talked while exchanging blows, eventually ending with Tim falling off the dinosaur.
It hurt physically, but emotionally Tim was ecstatic. Damian was from the League, and trying to kill Tim meant that he saw him as someone capable, someone worthy of Damian’s attention, time, and display of skill.
Tim had always wanted a little brother, and now he had one—a cute, intelligent, and highly skilled fighter as well.
____
Several attempts on Tim’s life later (which Tim was secretly proud of Damian for—he had come close a few times),
Damian got a stern talking-to from everyone. Jason simply gave him the “That’s not how you get Batman’s approval” speech.
Tim noticed both the lack of attempts on his life and Damian’s foul mood. Finding him in the Batcave, he asked:
“Want to spar?”
Damian, suspicious that it was some sort of trap, hesitated.
Tim gave him a playful smile.
“Show me everything you’ve got, Robin.”
That was enough to make Damian jump right into the fight.
Unfortunately, in his attempt not to be lethal, Damian ended up getting disarmed.
“What’s wrong, Dami?”
“What should be wrong with me, Drake?”
“I’m worried. This is unlike you.
Your movements are sloppy.
There isn’t even a scratch on me.
And you got disarmed.”
“I KNOW!”
“Dami, I’m not telling you off here.
I mean it. I’m worried.
You haven’t tried anything in a while, and now this.
You’re a better fighter than I am.
I don’t get it. Are you sick?”
“Stop mocking me!
All everyone does is coddle you,
telling me how important you are.
But I see how weak you are!
You interloper!
Parasite!
Why is everything about you?!
When I am the rightful heir!”
Truth be told, Tim had no idea what this was really about.
Did Damian feel insecure about his place in the family?
Would giving Damian the Robin mantle calm him down?
But he wasn’t ready yet.
On the other hand, how could he ever be ready if he never got to experience running around Gotham with his father?
Robin wasn’t just a title.
Dick had created Robin, and unofficially he had taken on a proper parental role in Damian’s life.
“I agree.”
“What?”
“You should be Robin.”
⸻
“But first, do you know why Batman can’t kill?”
“What a stupid question.
It’s Father’s self-imposed rule so he doesn’t become someone who lacks control over himself.
Richard says it’s because it’s the right thing to do.”
“That’s part of it, I guess.
You see, Batman wants to fix Gotham.
And Gotham’s problems aren’t just the crazies causing chaos.
They’re a byproduct.
There’s a reason Gotham wouldn’t get better if Superman—or anyone else—simply took over Batman’s job.
The real problem is society itself and the way it’s structured.
It’s the corruption.
The despair.
The gap between the rich and the poor.
Killing one supervillain just makes room for another.
It creates a vacuum.
Isn’t it strange that most of Gotham’s supervillains have degrees?
It’s like they saw the injustice around them and came to their own conclusions about what was truly right.
They gave up on the idea that justice even exists, so why not enjoy yourself in this hellhole?
All the criminals Batman catches go through the justice system because, if Gotham is ever going to get better, its citizens have to be the ones making the decisions.
If Batman became the judge of good and evil, people would have to fear whatever he alone decided was evil.
That would be a dictatorship.
And besides, relying so heavily on one person is stupid.
What happens when he finally decides to retire?
Everything falls apart all over again.”
____
When Alfred informed Dick that Tim and Damian were alone together in the Batcave, he had sprinted there.
Damian had improved, but he was still a work in progress, and Tim had his own demons he was hiding from Dick. You never knew what might happen.
Dick tried to act as casually as possible when he found his two little brothers standing on the training mats.
“So, what are you two doing down here? Having fun without me?”
Damian was staring at Tim with a scrunched-up expression, clearly contemplating something.
“Nah. I just missed Dami attacking me, so I thought we could spar.”
“Timmy, you don’t need to worry about that anymore. Damian knows he shouldn’t hurt you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Me and B had a talk with him.”
“You did what?”
Tim looked scandalized before slowly transitioning into a whine.
“Why would you do that? Are you jealous? That was peak bonding time.”
Jason arrived shortly after Dick.
“Timbo, you should stop seeing attempts on your life as a bonding experience. I know that’s how we did it, but it shouldn’t be the norm.”
He spoke while fiddling with his helmet.
“Well, none of you spar with me properly anymore, so I was actually happy someone did.”
Bruce had arrived as well.
“Tim, I review all of your training sessions, and I don’t see them lacking.”
“Yeah, because you’ve gone soft on me too! Damian was right when he said you coddled me. You think I can’t take it?”
Bruce spoke again.
“Tim, as I said, I review your training sessions and I see no problem with them. So tell me—what exactly is lacking?”
“You don’t hit as hard.”
Tim sulked.
It would have been cute if the statement hadn’t been deeply concerning.
That got Damian’s attention.
“Drake. What do you consider a ‘hard hit’? And what constitutes proper training? How much harm do you believe should occur during training?”
Jason froze.
He clearly knew where those questions were leading.
His full attention was now on Tim.
Dick found the whole thing a bit much.
“Damian…
Tim, you don’t need to answer that.”
Tim frowned.
“Why are you guys being weird?
I mean, if I’m not actively running around putting out fires, I should be training to get better.
And I can’t do that if the better fighter—which is everyone here, by the way—is holding back.
Our training doesn’t even leave bruises anymore. No broken bones.
I get that breaking bones is usually something you do when you’re younger to strengthen them, but I’m not that old.
Maybe you think criminals would have an advantage if I were wearing a cast, but I already know how to fight with a broken arm. I’d get even better at it if one of you actually trained me properly.
And why was Damian the only one using sharp weapons until recently?
Now not even he uses them.
The cuts were great reminders of where my weak points were.
As long as it happens in the cave, even stabbing is fine.
If cleanup is the problem, I’ll handle it. Naturally, whoever loses has to clean up the mess.
And about—”
“Tim. Please stop.”
Bruce’s voice trembled slightly.
He was sitting at the Batcomputer, shoulders slumped, his head buried in his hands.
Jason had started doing breathing exercises.
Trying to keep the Pit under control.
Damian stood wide-eyed, silently contemplating something.
Dick was attempting to look normal.
Unfortunately, the twitch in the corner of his eye gave him away.
He placed both hands on Tim’s shoulders and looked at him intently.
“Tim. We don’t think you’re incapable of handling proper training. And we’re not worried about the cleanup.”
Dick’s face twitched again.
“You’re not supposed to get hurt during training.
Training is supposed to keep you in shape and prepare you for danger when it comes.”
Then Dick pulled him into a hug.
“Well, yeah, I get that. The better I get, the less injured I’ll be out there.
You guys are really weirding me out.
Is this some kind of prank?”
From Jason’s side of the cave came a short laugh followed by muttering.
“We’re weirding him out.
Fucking hell, this family.”
Dick pulled back and looked Tim in the eyes again.
“I still don’t think you understand me.”
Tim continued speaking.
“I know training is important for survival, so it’s better to get injured close to the medbay where I can learn and get treated than out there where I might get an infection.
If cleanup or my abilities aren’t the problem, then what is?
Medical supplies?
I can pay for those.
And there are enough bags of my blood stored at Drake Manor.”
Bruce opened his mouth.
“I…”
He wanted to say something—anything—that would make his son understand he shouldn’t be hurting himself.
But he had nothing.
If he spoke without thinking, he might only make things worse.
“The League.”
Damian’s voice cut through the room.
Everyone tensed.
“This is the training mindset of the League of Assassins.”
“Huh?”
Tim looked genuinely confused.
What did that have to do with anything?
“The League of Assassins, you little shit.”
Jason’s voice was sharp.
“The cute little murder club led by a walking corpse obsessed with green Kool-Aid. Ringing any bells?
Why the fuck do you train like that?”
“I… what?”
Tim’s thoughts scattered.
He felt completely out of his depth.
Why were they talking about the League?
He didn’t train like the League.
Did he?
Why was everyone acting so intense?
“Father informed me that those teachings were wrong.”
Damian glanced toward Bruce.
“It is surprising he never gave you the same talk.”
Bruce somehow looked even more distressed than before.
Then Dick suddenly froze.
Realization hit him.
“Oh my God.
Did you see Damian’s attempts on your life as actual training?”
“Yeah. Obviously.
You got close three times out of eight.”
Tim paused to think.
“If there were more than eight, could you tell me?
I’d like to be aware of gaps in my situational awareness.”
Damian grimaced.
“Drake. I no longer wish to harm you.
No plan of mine can compete with whatever your insanity is capable of.
Your self-preservation instincts are atrocious.”
Tim gasped in offense.
“How dare you.
My insanity would never hurt me.
We’re friends.
And my self-preservation skills are excellent.
I’m still here, aren’t I?”
No one laughed.
The silence was awkward.
Tim still didn’t understand why.
Time to flee.
“So… no training?
I’m going home.
Maybe you guys should just relax today.
You seem stressed.”