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“I can’t believe you!” Dick was fuming, a hand running through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone!?”
Tim tried to school his face, but he couldn’t keep the anger and incredulity off his face. “I told Leslie!” He threw his hands up, body tense.
Dick glared at him, anger and worry in his eyes, a twist to his mouth. “And what if you got an infection? We wouldn’t have been able to help you Tim! You could have died and we wouldn’t have known why you keeled over!”
“I had it handled!” He knew his voice was rising too high, but with the red rushing in his cheeks and pounding in his head, Tim didn’t care. “Stop treating me like a child when you never even treated me like a teenager!”
Tim could see the way Dick tensed, guilt, regret and frustration in every line of his aged face. “Tim, this isn’t me treating you like a child! This is my treating you like–”
“A liar? A crazy, off the rocker intruder? An ‘equal’?” The younger boy hissed, taking small steps forwards, until his finger jabbed right into Dick’s chest. “Knowing your record with believing me, why would I tell you about my spleen? Just for you to brush me off for the ‘more important things’?”
Silence fell over the cave, even the constant echo of bats going still. Tim hated silences. Hot tears pricked at Tim’s red eyes, still glaring into Dick’s eyes.
Falling back on a step, Tim valiantly ignored their crowd, ever so silent during their screaming match. He swallowed, hand automatically falling against the scar over where his spleen used to be, one he’s tried very hard to hide.
“I did what I needed to to get Bruce back.”
With that, Tim spun around and stalked towards the staircase.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Water choked down Tim’s throat as his body forced in a breath despite the hand curled in his hair, keeping him submerged.
Just as black clouded his vision, Tim was pulled out. Coughing and choking out water fought with his need to gasp in air, head light with how close he’d been to drowning.
“See detective, you still have so many weaknesses. If you truly want Batman back, you must overcome such fragility to succeed.” The voice behind him purred, leaving Tim sick to his stomach. His arms were aching behind his back, bound with rough ropes.
He couldn’t reply, occupied with hacking his lungs out.
The figure behind him, hand pulling uncomfortably at his hair and skull huffed. “Indeed, much to learn.”
Tim had only a second to brace himself before his head was shoved under water once again.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A blade pressed against Tim’s neck, an infuriatingly smug face above him. He could more so smell the blood dripping from his neck than see it, although there were countless other wounds over his body, most at different stages of healing.
“Once again, you’ve failed detective.” The man smirks, head tilted. Tim can only glare into his sickening green eyes, something crazed in them. “You hold both skill and talent, but you’re limited by Batman’s morality. If you just join me, stop hesitating, you could be more than great.”
Bile made itself known in his mouth, and Tim didn’t answer past his glare hardening. It seemed to be enough for the man.
“Very well. Get up.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A hand gripped the front of Tim’s suit, pulling him up so his feet could barely graze the floor. His breaths heave in and out of his chest, terror narrowing his vision as his head tilts to the side.
Bubbling green is below them, surging up like it has a life of its own, clawing and crawling its way to claim another life and soul.
“Detective…” Tim’s head snaps forward, looking directly at the man holding up to the very edge with a deranged smile that was all teeth. He says the title like it’s a nickname, something endearing that Tim should hold onto fondly. “We could be great. I see so much potential in you.”
Tim was sure his eyes were blown wide, but he hoped the man saw the anger and hatred in his eyes, not fear.
“One day I’ll convince you.” His smile is twisted, face bathed in the green light reflecting against the pits. “Timothy, you will be my heir. You will be mine, heart, soul and body.”
Tim choked on vomit, body crawling with disgust. No, after he found Bruce, after he wasn’t forced to use this man’s help, Tim would never let his hands on Tim again.
Boots barely brushing the ground and teeth bared, Tim gave the man, Ra's al Ghul, a vicious sneer.
“Over my dead body.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Tim never liked fighting with Dick, he was usually able to avoid fights by deescalating or simply removing himself. For some reason this time, the words cut under his skin, triggering an anger he could usually keep under wraps.
Dick was such a hypocrite, Tim was so sick of his shit.
Cold air swept over Tim’s body, a nice contrast to the heat in his cheeks. His knees were raised to his chest, arms curled around them were uncovered, scars he usually tried to keep from prying eyes out for the world to see. He didn’t care anymore, what's one more screaming match with Dick.
Tim’s eyes scanned the scenery, taking in the serene environment. From here, looking out at Gotham, it looked almost quiet. Light emitted from every building in sight and from here Tim couldn’t see the flashing red and blue lights that were never ending.
He didn’t like heights, but Tim knew the roof was one of the only spots around the manor he would get any peace. If he left outright, Bruce was sure to come and try to have an awkward ‘you’re not my son but I feel responsible over you anyway and it’s too late to kick you out so I’m going to act as emotionally incompetent as always while trying to find the right balance’ talk. Too bad Tim couldn’t get any peace in this damned house.
Soft footfalls stopped outside of Tim’s peripheral. He knew it wasn’t Jason, Dick or Duke. It could have been Cass, but she would have purposefully made her presence known by now. It definitely wasn’t Bruce, he was probably trying to tactfully get information from Dick while avoiding blowing the younger man’s fuse. So that left one person.
Damian sat himself in the place next to Tim, dressed in a pair of practical pyjamas. He looked out at the city like Tim, a tenseness to his body language that was different from usual anticipation. Tim was pleasantly surprised that Damian wasn’t actively furious at Tim for yelling at Dick, ready to repeat the grapple incident. Immediately, guilt pooled in Tim’s gut at the thought, eyes moving back to watch the city.
Damian had been doing better with Tim. After the events of Bruce coming back from the dead, Damian had seemed to begin understanding how Tim worked. He wasn’t a part of the family, not really, even with a room in the manor Tim wasn’t Bruce’s son. He wasn’t a threat to Damian’s position, and wasn't going to demand the Robin suit back.
As much as Tim was hurt and angry at Dick for taking the suit, Tim didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to the way things were. As polite as he tried to be, there were no movie nights or hangouts for the sake of hangouts anymore. The anger Tim held for Dick wasn’t going to get in the way of his job, his role as Red Robin, even if he used to be just Robin.
Tim’s anger at Damian had fizzled out the moment he saw how the league was. Sure, Damian had been horrible to him, but he was only twelve. Tim knew he only went through a fraction of what Damian suffered through daily.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t immensely awkward between the two. They had little in common, and what they shared, neither used in any attempt at conversation. Damian had never apologised and Tim had never stuck around.
“Drake.”
Tim jolts out of his thoughts, eyes blinking rapidly and head turning to look at the boy next to him. Damian looked unsure of himself, one of those rare expressions the boy didn’t sport often. The older boy’s heart softened at the clear effort Damian looked to be making. Tim hummed in prompting.
Damian had mirrored Tim’s pose, knees to chest and arms keeping them in place, but he was still looking out at the city, chin propped up against his knees. “There are few people who know the extent of Grandfather’s cruelty and live to tell the tale.” His voice was so quiet, but Tim heard every word in the silent night.
A lump formed in Tim’s throat, he wouldn’t be surprised if Damian was feeling the same.
Ra’s al Ghul was a man who cared for no one but himself. He was willing to take, kill, torture and lose all his humanity in pursuit of his goals. After years of indulging in every darkness his heart leaned for, Ra’s al Ghul was a monster.
“Yeah?” Tim croaked, averting his eyes down to his hands, regretting it immediately when his scars drew his attention. He really wished he had covered up now.
Damian pauses, letting the silence linger. He was so different like this, and as much as Dick had messed up with Tim, he had been such a good influence on Damian, patient in a way he’d never been with Tim.
“I don’t know what happened to you and I doubt you would be willing to disclose your experience with Grandfather. I would be a hypocrite to demand answers when I am unwilling to give up my own.” Tim can see through his periphery Damian turning his head, just slightly, towards Tim. “Even though I have no knowledge of the details from your stay, I know Grandfather to be obsessive and to treat everyone, but especially those he’s fascinated with, like they are inhuman.”
Bitter bile latched onto Tim’s throat. Yeah, inhuman…
“Oh Detective, like it or not, you’re already mine…”
Phantom hands stroked his cheek, hitching Tim’s next inhale. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, teeth clenched. He’d only been sixteen, barely that.
When Tim could open his eyes again, Damian was staring at him, green eyes holding a hint of understanding, but they also showed a horrific, silent knowledge. Tim knew Damian’s relationship with his grandfather was different, the amount of times Ra’s went on about how Tim was getting ‘special treatment’ and how he was ‘the one true heir’ showed he had no interest in Damian. That still left other forms of abuse for the boy to have endured and grooming wasn’t always sexual.
Heavy silence was thick between them, Damian looking so much younger than he usually did, walls he kept high fallen. Tim imagined he just looked tired, a certain grief in the way he moved and existed that he couldn’t purge no matter how much time passed since his experiences.
Two months is all it took for Ra’s to claw his way into every facet of Tim’s life. Tim can’t look in the mirror without thinking of the scars marring his skin. He can’t have Alfred tend to his wounds without thinking about the countless times Ra’s made him bleed, only to force Tim to let him sew the wound up himself. Tim can’t even sew up the smallest cut without thinking about the damn spleen Ra’s has in a jar somewhere.
“Timothy.” The shock of his name, his real name and not Drake or Red Robin, made Tim intake a breath sharply. Damian was watching him with an expression Tim recognised as one he used on the stray cats he finds on patrols or with Titas. Somehow it doesn’t raise his hackles. “It was foolish of you to not tell someone about your affliction. Any number of things very well could have killed you.”
Damian, someone who was usually so blunt about his words especially when they’re said out of worry, was speaking in such a small, kind voice. The kindness that Tim had seen in the boy, covered in layers and layers of trauma and defense, was now directed freely at Tim.
A wet laugh escaped Tim, surprising both of them. He used his hand to wipe away the emerging tears. “You’re right.” He can’t bring himself to speak above a whisper, a light smile gracing his lips as his gaze shifted to the city. The relentless tears obstructed his view. “I should have but I just– I didn’t want to deal with the fight I know I’d get, what I did get.
The smaller boy seemed to contemplate this, a soft hum emitting from his lips. “I understand.”
Fighting since the day he drew breath. Tim knew Damian understood that need for peace, more than Tim himself did. It was reassuring in a way, different from how he felt their feelings, emotions and traumatic lives had been compared in the past. They both shared in the longing for peace, and that was enough for Tim.
“Grayson is exceedingly foolish.” Damian smiled hesitantly at Tim, a hint of shyness. “He knows nothing about subtlety and lacks the emotional competence to handle any situation such as that with grace.”
With a soft chuckle, Tim gives Damian a hesitant cheeky smile. “You say that like anyone in this family has emotional competence.”
Rolling his eyes, Damian scoffed lightly. “Regrettably I concede.”
The air was so much lighter and Tim felt as if he could breathe again. Looking up at the moon, he sighed when he realised how close it was to sunrise. Damian should have been in bed ages ago.
“Come on Dami, I think it’s time to head in.” Tim stretched his arms out and yawned. “You’ve got school in the morning.”
Huffing, Damian followed Tim as he stood. “It’s a Friday, obviously I am not the one in need of sleep here. Perhaps if you ceased drinking life threatening amounts of caffeine, you’d know what day it was.” The jab was so vastly different to any other dig he would make, although his last scathing comment hadn’t even been in the last month.
Tim laughed in a way that he didn’t think he’d ever do with Damian. It felt so nice, a weight lifting off his chest. “Yeah yeah, totally taking advice from a fourth grader.”
The mock scandalised gasp he received sent him into another fit of laughter.
Tim let himself indulge in the warmth and joy of the moment, lingering even as he entered the manor again, unsure of if another screaming match awaited him.