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“Hiya, Sport!”
Tim grinned widely at his dad as he entered his room. To his relief, his dad seemed to be having a good day. “Hey, Dad. How are you feeling?”
Jack waved him off. “Oh, I’m feeling perfectly well. Let’s not waste time worrying about me. Have a seat and talk a while.”
Tim nodded eagerly, dropping into the chair next to where his father’s wheelchair was parked. His room at Serenity Oaks was nice—it ought to have been, considering Bruce Wayne was the one footing the bill. It wasn’t home, of course, but Jack seemed to be comfortable enough. That was really all Tim could ask for.
“So, how’s school going?” his dad asked.
“It’s good,” Tim shrugged. “Are things okay here?”
“Ah, they’re fine,” the man assured. “I can’t wait to bust out of this joint, though. We can finally take that fishing trip we’ve always talked about!”
A pang of sorrow sliced through Tim’s chest, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He didn’t want to ruin his dad’s good mood. So instead, he smiled. “For sure, Dad. It’ll be great.”
They spent the better part of two hours talking. It was perfect. Tim’s dad asked about his classes, his friends, and even Bruce! It felt so damned good to spend time with him. As much as Tim enjoyed living at Wayne Manor, Jack Drake was still his dad.
“Well, I suppose you have to go now,” his father sighed. “You probably have homework to do and whatnot.”
Tim felt some of his happiness deflate. He really did need to get back, but he also wasn’t ready for the visit to end. It wasn’t likely his father would be granted two good days in a row. His shoulders sagged. “I wish I could stay longer.”
His dad smiled at him encouragingly. “You can always come back tomorrow, Sport. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Tim swallowed thickly. “Right. I know that. I just hate having to leave you every day.”
“Me too, Tim. But remember, this is temporary. Once I’m more healed up and out of this damn chair, I can come home. We’ll be together again.”
Don’t you dare cry, Tim warned himself when his eyes began to sting. Don’t you dare ruin this.
“Of course we will,” he replied. He was mostly able to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“Aw, before you leave, give your old man a hug,” his father ordered softly, holding his arms open. “You’re not too old for that, are you?”
“Never.” Tim shook his head. He leaned down and hugged his dad as tightly as he could while being mindful of the man’s wheelchair. “I missed you so much, Dad.”
“I missed you too, kiddo. I…Hey, get the fuck away from me!”
Suddenly, Tim was shoved harshly away. He stumbled back a few feet before regaining his balance—his Robin training was the only reason he didn’t end up on the floor.
“Who are you?!” Jack demanded, his face filled with genuine alarm. “What are you doing in my house?”
Tim lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Tim, your son.”
The man’s eyes held no recognition. “I don’t have a son! Where’s Janet? Janet!”
“Dad, it’s okay,” Tim tried. “Everything’s—”
“Get out of my house!” his father screamed at him. “I’ll get my gun! Janet! Bring me my gun!”
“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” Tim croaked. Hot tears filled his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. Not here. Not yet.
He fled the room, barely dodging the hardcover book as Jack threw it at him.
“That’s right, you coward! Stay out!”
Tim ran out of the long-term care facility, ignoring all of the staff running towards his dad’s room and the other visitors giving him pitiful looks. Tim’s situation with his dad, unfortunately, was not unique in a place like this.
He kept running, farther and farther until Serenity Oaks was out of sight behind him. Finally, when his legs had turned to jelly and his lungs burned from exertion, he dropped onto a lone park bench. Then, he buried his face in his hands and allowed the tears he’d been holding back to fall.
This was the worst.
He should have known better than to let his guard down. His father’s lucidity never lasted. Tim should have left earlier, before he was forgotten again. But he’d wanted to soak up every bit of good time his father had, and for that, he’d paid the price.
After a while (Tim wasn’t sure how long; time lost meaning when sobbing in public), a warm, familiar figure sat down next to him. Tim didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped, hurriedly wiping away his tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of his mentor—he was Robin. He needed to be stronger than this.
Thankfully, Bruce didn’t look mad or annoyed. “Serenity Oaks called me. They wanted to make sure you were safe. It seems you were pretty upset when you left. I tracked your phone so I could check on you. Rough day?”
Tim sniffled. “Worse. It was a great day. He remembered everything, Bruce—the project I did with Ives, the new skateboarding trick I’ve been working on. He even asked about the Knights game I went to with Dick two weeks ago! It was him—like really, actually him. I’ve just missed him so much. B-but then, I hugged him goodbye, and he was gone again. He pushed me away and kept calling out for my mom and threatened to shoot me with his gun. He even threw a book at me as I left! And I know it’s not his fault, and that he won’t even remember doing all of that, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. My own dad has no idea who I am half the time. It just sucks.”
When his dad had first woken up from his coma after the Obeah Man incident, Tim had been elated. He’d lost his mother, but his father was still there. But soon, it became clear that in addition to paralysis, his father also suffered brain damage related to the poisoning. He had significant cognitive deficits, such as mood swings, attention difficulties, and, worst of all, memory issues. Some days, Jack remembered most things about Tim and his life; others, he thought Tim was just “a nice-looking young man” volunteering at the facility for community service or even a food delivery man. But during times like today, he saw his own son as a threat—a home intruder to get rid of by any means necessary.
Bruce reached up and placed a steadying hand on his back. “It does suck. You’re allowed to be upset, Tim. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone a fourteen-year-old boy.”
“But I should be grateful,” Tim argued. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop crying. “I mean, my dad is still alive. Most of the doctors didn’t think he’d ever wake up from the coma. And he’s still there, even if it’s not all the time. So really, it could be a lot worse. I shouldn’t just focus on the bad parts.”
“Tim, just because your father is still alive, doesn’t mean you aren’t grieving him.”
Bruce’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. It was a strange concept, to grieve a man he’d just visited, but that was exactly how Tim felt.
“C-can I have a hug?” he asked before his brain fully processed the thought. Immediately, his cheeks grew warm. “Um, sorry, um, I don’t know why I asked that. I guess I’m just still raw from the whole thing. You don’t have to—”
Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. Tim melted into his mentor’s embrace, letting his walls crumble as tears streamed from his eyes.
“I’ve got you, Partner,” Bruce whispered into his hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
Tim didn’t know what the future held. He didn’t know what was going to happen to his father or himself long-term. But when the freaking Batman himself said it was going to be okay, Tim had no choice but to believe him.
As long as he was a part of the Dynamic Duo, he could find a way to survive whatever came next.