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Memento mori.
Death comes for us all, eventually. It is an inevitable fact of life. An inevitable fact of being human.
We are born, we live, we die.
Death comes for some sooner than others.
It came for Jason far too soon.
Tim had no intention of following in his footsteps.
Yes, Tim would have to die one day, but he had no desire for that day to come any sooner than necessary.
He admired how the vigilantes of Gotham faced that threat head on every day.
He admired how Jason had died for the cause. He grieved the loss of the second Robin, but he admired him for his bravery. For being a good soldier.
Memento mori.
He tried to remind himself of that as he watched Batman spiral out of control. As Batman brought too many innocent lives to near death, leaving so many in the hospital, their lives forever altered.
Batman clearly embraced the philosophy with open arms, prepared to lose his life to the cause.
But it wouldn’t have been a heroic sacrifice, like Jason’s life was. No, it would have been driven by grief-fuelled rage, and the fact that Batman had stopped caring. He didn’t care what happened to the criminals he beat to bloody pulps. He didn’t care what happened to himself.
Batman was gone, replaced with a body devoid of heart and soul.
Tim could only stand for so much.
He sought out Dick in Bludhaven, begging for him to return to Gotham. Told him his dad was slowly dying. The legacy they had built together was slowly dying. Dick smiled at him sadly.
“Memento mori. Maybe it’s time for the legend of the Bat to die.”
Tim stared at him, stunned at the nonchalant acceptance of loss before it had even happened. Batman was still here. Bruce was still here. But Dick had already let him go, moved on from a loss that hadn’t even occurred.
When he had overcome his shock, he levelled a glare at Dick.
“Did you think that when Jason died?”
Dick’s response was slamming the door in his face.
Tim stormed away, down the streets of Bludhaven where the rain poured relentlessly, drenching him through completely. He shivered from the cold.
Memento mori.
Death comes for us all, eventually. It is an inevitable fact of life. An inevitable fact of being human.
This includes Tim.
So, if he was going to die at some point anyway… why not give his death some meaning?
He thought it would be so much more worthwhile to die in the line of fire rather than simply wasting away in old age.
And now, he was the only one who could save Batman from death.
It wasn’t time for the legacy to die just yet.
Thus, Tim decided to give his life to the cause.
He never wanted to do this. But he was left with no choice.
He barged his way into Bruce’s life with nothing but sheer determination, boldly blackmailing Bruce with his identity, the fact that he would go out onto the streets alone if Bruce didn’t take him on, and then Bruce would be responsible for the death of another child.
Bruce definitely wasn’t happy about it. But he eventually caved.
Tim trained under many different teachers. Brutal, painful, difficult training. Bruce clearly wanted Tim to quit. Was trying to push him so hard he pushed Tim out of the vigilante life.
But Tim didn’t quit.
Memento mori.
If Tim died during training, it would just be accelerating the timeline. He was going to die anyway. Maybe not the heroic way he wanted to go out, but at least he tried.
When he returned to train directly under Bruce, he proved himself the best detective. He solved many cold cases that Bruce had given up on. He found leads to track down criminals faster than Bruce could put together the pieces. He earned Bruce’s respect through demonstration of skill.
When fighting crime in the streets of Gotham together, it was Tim who pulled Batman back. Curbed his violent urges. A hand on his shoulder, a look that pierced through the protective layer of the cowl, a simple, whispered phrase.
“Memento mori.”
Death will come for them eventually. Let whatever powers exist handle it.
And Bruce stopped. Every. Single. Time.
Batman needed a Robin, whether he liked it or not. And it showed. Gordon had even pulled Tim aside one evening and quietly thanked him for helping Batman to calm down. Tim took the praise with a silent nod, before following Batman across Gotham’s rooftops into the night.
He was making the difference. He was doing something worthwhile. He faced death, and he remembered that it would come for them all.
Memento mori.
When a new player showed up in Gotham, Bruce called Dick in, and took Tim out of the game. Tim was livid.
Too dangerous, Bruce had said. This Red Hood had already shown he was willing to kill. Was violent, blood and gore left at every crime scene.
That shouldn’t have made a difference. But Batman was firm on this. Red Hood seemed to have a vendetta against him and Robin, and Bruce would not lose another child to the cause.
Dick backed Bruce up on this one. Told Tim it was for the best to keep him safe.
Tim hated that.
Dick hadn’t had much chance to see Tim in action, see how he could defend himself. Tim knew he could keep himself safe.
Yet, he was outvoted. And that was that.
So, instead, Tim put his time into trying to figure out who the Red Hood was. What did he have against Batman and Robin? Why was he using an old Joker alias? Were those two facts connected?
He talked about controlling crime. He talked about how Batman allowed a revolving door of criminals to hurt people. He talked about how he was finally going to put an end to all of it. Destroy crime in Gotham for good.
Tim had his suspicions, but he knew the other two had been so consumed by their grief that neither of them would take him seriously.
This was only proven when Tim was sent away to Titan’s Tower.
For his protection they said. For his safety they said.
Little did they know, it was the worst possible place they could have sent him. Alone, without their protection, with someone who could easily bypass the Tower’s security with a long unused key code that Bruce never deleted.
Tim grabbed a spare bo staff, and prepared for a fight. Confronted with the Red Hood, he knew this would be his greatest challenge yet.
The Red Hood moved with supernatural speed and strength. It wasn’t that Tim hadn’t fought metas before, but he simply wasn’t prepared for the Red Hood to be a meta. No previous encounters had suggested he was.
A gun shot rings in Tim’s ears, and he feels pain shoot up his leg. He stumbles, and a kick to his lower back forces him to the floor. He begins to scramble to try and get away, but Red Hood throws a knife that pierces his sleeve, pinning him to the ground. He turns his head back to look at the Red Hood, who is now removing his helmet.
And what he sees confirms every suspicion he had.
Jason Todd.
Jason Todd, back from the dead. A dangerous, supernatural green glow in his eyes, a single white streak in his hair, an abundance of scarred skin making him look far older than he should be, had he not died.
Jason Todd, who is now looking down at him with a wicked grin.
“The Bat should have known better than to throw another kid in that costume, but he just can’t help himself can he?”
Tim coughs weakly.
“No-”
He’s cut off with a kick to the ribs.
“No? What, you think you’re some kind of real hero? You’re a kid.”
He snatches Tim’s bo staff from his hand, twirling it around his own fingers.
“Interesting choice of weapons. Bruce doesn’t usually use staffs.”
Tim, despite everything, huffs a bloody laugh.
“Lady… Shiva.”
That gives Jason pause. It is only for a moment. A blink and you’ll miss it moment.
But Tim caught it.
Jason shakes his head.
“I didn’t ask.”
He holds Tim’s staff to his throat.
“You’re gonna help me send a warning to the Bat. A bloody, gory, warning. Hopefully, this will stop him from turning children into soldiers. Any final words before I use your blood as ink?”
Tim coughs, letting himself lie limp on the floor. He looks Jason in the eyes.
Jason, the same person he followed around Gotham with his camera.
Jason, the same person he grieved when he died.
Jason, the same person who drove him into this life with a desire to protect his legacy.
Jason, the same person he spent years looking up to.
Jason, the same person he still looks up to now, even with death by his hand staring him in the face.
Tim looks Jason in the eyes and smiles.
“Memento mori.”
He doesn’t get Jason’s reaction before the world goes dark.
-
When he wakes, it is to the sound of several beeping machines around him. His body feels like it has been pulverised and sent through a wood chipper. His head is pounding, and he feels like he just might throw up.
When he goes to open his eyes, he groans. It is way too bright for his liking.
But… that hopefully means he made it to heaven, right?
“Timmy? Are you awake?”
That… that’s Dick.
So… not heaven. Unless he missed something.
He forces his eyes open, and looks over to his left, where Dick is looking at him, concern evident on his expression. When he registers Tim is awake, he gives a shaky smile.
“Hey baby bird. How are you feeling?”
Tim blinks a couple of times, taking in everything around him. He quickly comes to recognise that this is indeed not heaven, and he is indeed not dead. He is in the batcave’s medical bay, hooked up to machines galore, and an IV line in his arm which is probably the only reason he is able to be somewhat coherent right now. Dick is to his left, holding his hand gently, tapping a rhythm absentmindedly. Alfred is towards the bottom of the bed, sorting through some medical equipment. Bruce is nowhere to be seen.
Tim turns his attention back to Dick, recalling that he just asked something.
“Um… pretty sure I’ve got a few broken bones, but apart from that, I’m okay.”
Dick huffs a laugh, before carefully bringing his arms around Tim, hugging him as tightly as he dares. Tim lets himself sink into it. Dick holds Tim for a while, until someone clearing their throat interrupts them.
“Tim.”
Dick pulls back with what Tim could only describe as a growl, but was probably intended as an irritated huff. Bruce is standing by the entrance of the medbay, looking at Tim. Tim nods, and Bruce slowly approaches, until he is stood next to Dick.
Bruce takes in Tim’s condition, scanning over him carefully with his eyes. Tim lets him. Bruce opens his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again, and looking away. He takes a few minutes, but eventually returns his gaze to Tim’s face and nods.
“Red Hood got away.”
Dick immediately swats Bruce’s arm, and Alfred gives a displeased hum. Tim only sits in silence for a moment, before replying.
“You know who he is, now.”
Bruce nods.
“You’ve known for longer.”
Tim merely shrugs.
“I had my suspicions. But this confirmed it.”
Bruce nods once more.
“You didn’t say.”
Tim looks at Bruce, for once letting the exhaustion show on his face.
“Would you have believed me?”
Bruce doesn’t answer that, which is enough of an answer all on its own. Tim nods, before letting his eyes fall closed.
“How did I get here?”
He doesn’t see the strange look that Dick and Bruce share, but the lack of response forces him to open his eyes to see their conflicted expressions. Dick is the one to answer him.
“Jason brought you here.”
Tim blinks a few times as he tries to process that.
“He…”
Tim’s eyes fall closed. He doesn’t have the energy to try and make sense of that right now.
“I’m tired.”
Dick immediately responds.
“We’ll let you get some rest. Take it easy, baby bird. You know what to do if you need anything.”
Tim hums in reply, and he listens as the three sets of footsteps shuffle out of the medbay, leaving him alone once again.
Memento mori.
Death comes for us all, eventually. It is an inevitable fact of life. An inevitable fact of being human.
We are born, we live, we die.
Death comes for some sooner than others.
It came for Jason far too soon.
Tim had no intention of following in his footsteps.
And he hadn’t.
Sure, he became Robin. Sure, he nearly died.
But he was alive. Breathing. Heart beating. Alive.
Death comes for us all eventually.
But it wasn’t Tim’s time just yet.