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But what the hell was he doing here? He punched the floor number into the worn elevator buttons, letting his body carry him while his mind raced.
What the hell are you doing here, Tim?
He fiddled with his hoodie string, forcing back the lump in his throat, shoving down the anxiety in his stomach. He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to talk to Bruce, he didn’t want to talk to Dick--he couldn’t talk to Dick, not anymore.
The elevator dinged.
What the hell are you doing here, Tim?Or
Tim gets a dose of fear toxin that leaves him reeling for days after; and goes to Jason for help.
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aug 28 2025 2:52 am