Chapter Text
Chapter one: Seventeen years, did they not count?
Normal Narration
“Character’s speaking”
Character’s thinking
Timothy Jason Drake-Wayne is tired. So fucking tired.
Not of yesterday night’s patrol, not of running on three hours of sleep, not because of anything physical.
Tim knew since the very beginning, when he was first allowed the colors of red and green, when he flew as a bird for the very first time, he had a timer winding down to the very last second of his very last moment as Batman’s Robin. He knew, when Batman scolded and became exasperated with him, when he was sent back to his very empty house every patrol, when Batman looked at him and sometimes called out for a ghost.
Where Dick Grayson saw the reflection of his little brother's mirror, where he could pour the love and care he could not onto a dead boy. When he twirled his hair some days, hoping and wishing for curly locks, but they stayed ever so straight. Dick Grayson did not love Timothy Drake, he loved what he stood for and Tim knew.
He knows.
Alfred could not love him like Jason, could not bake alongside him and enjoy each other's warmth, Tim could not bake and the kitchen was not his to partake in. He did not enjoy reading classic novels, he could not even step foot into the haunted library.
He understands.
Tim was always hard to love, his parents always told him, always complained, always commented every time he opened his mouth. How could they not, when he was such a terrible thing to love and have.
“Damn it, Timothy! The one night we need you to be fucking good, just one fucking night! The Carltons were ready to sign, full five year contract and now what!?” Jack Drake yells, hitting the steering wheel of their newly bought mercedes, “My fucking kid just completely vomits on thier one of kind two million dollar table! Two million dollars! Do you know how much that is!!?”
“–’m s-sorry D–” He can’t comprehend how much money that is, he only knows that after eating the yummy little shrimp plates, his tummy had hurt and he could not control the sickness.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Timothy. You cost us a fortune” Janet remarks, eyes cold as she looks outward of the passenger window, “…I don’t understand how I could give birth to something like you.” He doesn’t know either.
So how could someone unrelated to him come to love him?
It was simply an impossibility.
But he grew greedy, needy for the little bits of warmth the Waynes were willing to give him, he knows what a mistake that was. How could Timothy Drake be deserving of anything, how could he be the one to take what Jason lost.
Just like that, it fell apart.
Jason came back, scorching with retribution and anger, betrayal lining the heart of his past, it was no wonder he chose to partake in his easy revenge, Tim Drake did not deserve the colors. Jason knew, beat and broke it out of him, blood-soaked apologies did nothing to soothe the raging beast.
It made sense, and then it didn’t.
He stayed Robin, somehow someway, Jason did not want his old colors back, but the Waynes wanted their lost bird so badly, so they let him flock about his own. Let him take charge of his own territory and let him fly his own way, but they never stopped wanting and loving him. No matter what actions he took.
Tim understands.
Then Damian came, bulldozed over what was left of his sorry heart. He was the blood son, he was truly Bruce’s son, how could Tim be worth more than him. How could the ache of a sword in his side be worth anything, how could the hateful drivel stabbed into his heart be of worth to anyone.
Bruce, Dick, Alfred chose them again and again, and again.
He understood.
Then Bruce disappeared–he did not die, he knows–Dick chose Damian, chose the blood of his adopted sire, no one believed Tim. Who would?
He wasn’t of worth to anyone, least of all the ones he forced himself into, he was a cuckoo from the start, he wasn’t a Robin any longer. He flew alone, became what was needed of him, Red Robin. Red as in, hurt, pain, blood and anger–anger at himself more than anything–knowing his time was up and wanting to prolong the inevitable.
And then he did it, he found and rescued Batman from the timestream.
The Bat and birds were complete once more, Tim knew since that moment his time was up.
So here he found himself, on the day of reckoning, his last and final flight. Bruce was Batman once more, Dick back to being Nightwing, Damian Robin, even Hood had circled back and let his family swarm around cautiously but lovingly. Cass had flown back from her prolonged trip from China, Steph was not dead which was nice but she seemed not to care to tell him straight away.
That’s ok, he understands. He was never going to be anyone’s priority, he was never going to be loved, he could not believe even Cass who rescued him because her heart was always too big.
But Tim could not rely on pity and indifference, seventeen years was enough.
Seventeen years of a hole in his heart with no one to turn to, seventeen years would be his forever number, he could not and will not stand another seventy.
Today, he will not go to Wayne Enterprises, he will accompany Alfred to the garden, he will sit near Damian while he draws, he will take pictures of Cass’s wonderful recital, and he will hug Bruce one last longing time. He will do all the things that make his heart soften, make the memories seer into his brain hoping they replay on repeat as his eyes close one last time.
The poison pills weren't hard at all to get, laying inconspicuously inside his drawer, waiting for the night when patrol finally finishes and everyone will be deep asleep with not a care left. Then he will swallow them, lay on his bed, knowing he would not be a bother to anyone any longer. He knows how much brighter the sun will be, how relaxed Jason and Damian will be, how relieved Bruce and Dick will be, Cass…
He doesn’t know, but he can’t mean all that much to her.
His friends…some still angry at him, some indifferent and awkward which is better in the long run. Better for everyone involved. No matter how much it twists and squeezes his beating heart. Tim knows his heart is too tired, bleeding and breaking every single time he expects more, when he wants more than what he should be given.
Tim knows his last day will be spent with the ones he loves, he won’t take more than a day from them any longer.
No matter how much he aches for tomorrow.
“–Tim-Tam, what’cha thinking so hard over there for’?” Jason asks, more amused if anything, perching over the rooftop as they lay in wait for the suspect to leave the building. One Marcus Jefferson, thirty-two year old drug dealer whose backing they were scrounging around for weeks.
He looks up above where very few stars twinkle, “ Nothing, at the very least nothing that would interest you.” which is the truth, Jason wouldn’t care of his death and he certainly wouldn’t spend more than a minute thinking about it.
“C’mon, anything's better than this–fucking shit–! Look.” Pointing down the street, Tim spots their man and another walking out of the building, was that?
That’s fucking Johnathan Crane AKA Scarecrow acting very chummy with their suspect, no wonder the shimpent keep pouring in quick and the drugs more addicting. Signaling Hood, he rushes toward the south building, closest to their location as he closes in on them. Hood went from the east-southern side, hopefully to catch both men before anyone could react.
“ and I think we can start from the bowel–shit!” Crane mid-conversation ducks a magazine of rubber bullets, most hitting his car and driver.
“It’s the Bat’s! Shoot them!!” Jefferson yells as he sprints away from the vigilantes, not at all caring for his so called partner.
“Not today, you fuckers!” Jason knocks an underling down, shoots at two others as he weaves between the men.
“Hood I’ll get Jefferson! Go get Crane!”
“Fine! Ya little shit!” Jason rolls away from an onslaught of bullets, Crane rushing toward his getaway vehicle, Tim manages to trap Jefferson into an empty alley. A dead end. Nice.
“ Fucking Bats! You can’t just leave working people alone, could ya’!”
“Not if the working person is trying to drug half off Gotham, idiot!” The man tries to swerve around him but Tim catches his foot and elbows him onto the ground, he tries to fight back and headbutt him. Tim is faster as he twists the man’s arm behind him, kneeing the man’s back as he grabs the handcuff in his utility belt.
“Fuck you Bat’s! Eat this!!” The man had apparently been holding something in his right arm, as he managed to stab something into the thick of Tim’s thigh. Stupid mistake. Tim knocks the man’s head to the concrete, effectively knocking him unconscious as he finishes cuffing the man's hands together.
Taking a deep breath, he looks down to the very small needle currently jammed on his right thigh, “ Great, awesome just what I needed.” who knows what kind of drug this was, this was going to be very fun, not.
The comm in his ear spikes up with activity, “Yo, Red Robin, I’m done here. What’s going on at your end?” Hood languidly questions at him, clearly the man finished easier than he did.
“Hm, apprehend the suspect, no injuries.” Getting drugged wasn’t an injury, it was…an unfortunate incident. Not a lie technically.
“Cool, Oracle ya got that?” He waits for a beat, the woman from the other end answers quickly.
“All done boys? Good, faster than I expected. The others have completed their routes, GCPD is five minutes from your location.” Effective and efficient as always.
“Nice, Does Bat’s still want a report?” Like as if Bruce has never needed a run down every patrol they’ve gone. He isn’t sure that was completely true during Jason’s run as Robin, but Tim knew better than to ask for leniency.
Another switch in the comm, “Will Hood and Red Robin reconvene in the cave to go over tonight’s patrol?” It’s probably the nicest Batman has asked for them to come give tonight’s report, he even sounds expectant.
Hood takes a long second to answer back, “Hmmm, only if I'm promised Alfred’s cookies.” He makes sure to never lose out, Tim can count the times on his hands when Alfred’s cookies were meant for just him.
“Answer. Affirmative.”
“Save me some Hood.” Barbara teases, knowing she’ll find a tin full of cookies left in her mailbox, knowing she’s thought of.
“Yea, yea. See you later Barbie, gotta bring back the red chick.” Who is he referring to? Himself? Cause it certainly is not Tim, Chick’s are kids and he isn’t one. Hasn’t been since his parents deemed him old enough to stay alone in their mansion full of antiques and ghosts.
Hadn’t been when Batman scolded him for acting childish, hadn’t been when Dick took Robin from him, Hadn’t been when Red Hood beat him to an inch of his life.
“Haha, Oracle out.” The cops come quickly, they leave all the handcuffed suspects for the police to put into the backseats of their cars and they start heading back toward the cave.
The drive to the cave isn’t fast, in fact he’s going the speed limit, he’s not sure he wants to get there and be scolded in front of everyone. Thinking about it now, he doesn’t have to say anything about the stupid needle, it’s not like it's going to affect him come morning.
He’ll be dead.
The air is crisp, cold, as it breathes past his skin and leaves goosebumps, the smell of oil and smog accompanies it as it always does. Grappling the handles of his cycle, his memories come bubbling past the surface where they normally sink into. The pit of his chest feels open and clawed open, something thrumming at the back of his mind. He thinks of sweet treats, hands carding through his hair, soft murmurs of affection.
Something that wasn’t real.
He starts to hum to a song, the quiet drive and whispers of the night cloud past him, a bright smile taking over his face as he drives into the cave. The roaring of Hood’s motor running past him, water rushing by into the harbor, squeaking of critters who fly about above.
Parking his beloved cycle, he walks toward the main space where many figures converse, he can’t really think about who they are or why he’s here. His head’s filled with sweet cotton, lights blur as his muscles loosen, swinging his arms back and forth as the song comes to a head in his mind.
The best part. The main act.
From one blink to another, his eyes have long glazed over, he reaches the gaggle of limbs and voices, but he can not think beyond the song in his head. He has no control over his own voice or his own mind, lost he is, something about it is so very sweet. Because there is no pain and hurt anymore, he can’t think about his own failures and sees nothing but clouds.
Tim managed to get to the cave, no matter how high he was, his instinct took over and listened to the last order his f–mentor gave him.
The cave is alight with activity, Hood arrived not too early as he sat on one of the nearby chairs, hair sticking to his forehead as he actively tried to ignore the pestering Nightwing. Batman is typing something away on the Batcomputer, Robin is to the side watching him and the others, Steph and Cass are discussing something, most of their masks off as they await their turn.
Batman tilts his head to the side, “Red Robin, What took you so long? Hood arrived five minutes ago.” His eyes flicker back and forth between the screen and Tim.
Jason cuts in, “–And I wasn’t even going my fastest speed. Did you stop at Batburger because I thought we were leaving that for tomorrow?” He smirks at him like it was a joke, but his brows pinch a bit as they look over him.
Cass has turned to look straight at him, “Little brother, alright?” She asks as she seems to see something she doesn’t like.
Which is absurd, he's never been better, “Hmm, just fine. Actually I feel great! I just drove back over here at the speed limit.” The air felt so nice, so pretty and chilly as it danced over his skin. Cold, Cold, Cold, just like he will be.
She frowns a bit, “ok, that’s good.” still she watches him even more closely.
Bruce slides the mask off his head, “Well, partaking in the city’s speed guidelines is good thinking, I hope you can be faster so we can all finish up our reports.” sighing a bit as he finishes writing up his report.
“Sure!..” Tim practically yells across the cave, giddy with euphoria, he’ll always agree with Bruce. The others practically blanch at his answer, Steph practically jaw drops as the others look between themselves.
“Sure? Did I hear him just answer Bruce with ‘sure'?” Jason all but stands from his chair as he looks even more disturbed than he did ten seconds ago.
Damian huffs as he growls out, “Drake, did you get hit in the head, sure is not a correct term to answer father’s order!” but there’s something panicky in his tone, a slight edge of concern edged around the corners.
“Damian, while not the best word, it's still an affirmative term. But Tim, are you sure you're feeling alright, I’ve never…” Dick nor Bruce have ever heard him answer Bruce with such a lax term. Ever. It wasn’t something he did.
But Tim did not mind the questions or accusations as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet, “I did not get hit in the head, Dami! Little brother, stabby little brother. Why do you stab so much?” He waits a second, as if he has to think of the answer, “ Oh wait right, Assassin's League…I got stabbed with a needle today. That was fun!” He laughs a bit, but everyone completely panics around him.
“What!” Dick skin looks several shades paler at the words, immediately closing in on his little brother.
“What the Fuck!!” Jason can’t help curse, because what the hell.
“Oh My God!”
“He’s drugged!!”
Bruce blanches as he stands up, “Tim, come clearly something is affecting you right now. You're not in your right mind–do you know what you were injected with?” He steers the boy closer to the med-bay where they can treat him. Sitting him down, Bruce and Dick look over his body to see any obvious sign of intrusions.
Tim takes a minute to think, “Hmmm? I don’t know, the Jefferson guy got it from Crane so who knows. I don’t! Haha!” That doesn’t bode well for him. Cass and Steph near him, clearly alarmed at his behavior.
Jason paces to the side almost yelling, “God Damn it kid! I was literally there! Why didn’t you say anything!?” Huffing with worry, the green of his eyes glowing.
Dick cards his hands through his hair, “Tim, why didn’t you say anything to Jason?” He doesn't want to seem accusing, but he doesn’t understand why his little brother didn’t say anything.
“Why would I tell him? That makes no sense!” He smiles and laughs a bit, even as Bruce pulls off the right side of his suit, attaching a needle to his arm. Going back and forth between Tim and the computer, hoping to identify the toxin and rectify it.
“What, Tim you literally got drugged and you're telling me that doesn’t make any sense!? What the hell’s wrong with you!” Jason all but screams at him, Damian looks between them as he frowns.
Steph clenches her teeth as she bites back at him, “He’s drugged you idiot, he may not be capable of answering you!”
“Shut up blondie!” He yells back at her, the glow in his brighter as ever.
“You shut up!” She’s long been angry at him, voice cracking as Cass puts herself between them both.
Bruce has no choice but to raise his voice, “Stop!!” The room is silenced as everyone tries to regain their bearing, “Tim, you know if something happens to us on patrol we have to call in backup. Why didn’t you inform Jason?” He has to know.
Tim just smiles, “Well, what would it matter?” How would it matter in the long run?
Bruce really looks at him, jaw clenched as he asks, “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” What does his son mean, why wouldn’t it matter?
But it doesn’t stop Tim from answering him again, “It doesn’t matter if I’m drugged,” He stops for a second, his smile looks a bit bitter, “ after all I’m dead tomorrow." He finishes as he hums the chorus of the song stuck in his head.
Silence.
The buzz in the room sucked away, as something dark and heavy took its place. Dick’s hand stops as he trembles, looking down at his little brother with a fear he never wanted to feel again. Cass stands stock still as she attempts to read his body again and again, hoping for a different answer.
And not the utmost truth her little brother has spoken into existence.
Bruce can’t help the crack in his voice, “H-Honey what do you mean by that. You’re not gonna be dead, why would you say that?” Don’t say that to him, Bruce can’t even fathom the thought. Can’t fathom the possibility.
Jason all but seething anger stands five feet from him, “What the fuck did you mean by that Tim?” His hands are balled together, nails digging into the palm of his skin, chest heaving as they await an answer.
As they wait for him to rebuke his prior statement, Tim with all his white sparkly teeth, “Well, I plan on taking the stashed pills I have hidden in my room.” He pauses as he thinks over his next words, “ I was going to do it after tonight's patrol, it shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes for the poison to take effect.” He nods and smiles at his own demise, “ After that, no more Tim! Isn’t that a good ending?” Isn’t that the best ending for everyone?