Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

I’m Sorry

It was supposed to be an easy mission

Dick had whispered to Bruce the night before, requesting Tim and Damian go on more missions together. He suggested to his father that it wouldn’t just help the other two boys tolerate each other, but it might bring Tim closer to the family. Dick knew Bruce had the same Tim shaped hole in his heart, a hole made ever deeper with each passing day.

With Bruce’s return from being dead, Tim remained distant to the family. He had moved out of the manor and into his own apartment. He rarely appeared on manor grounds, usually only visiting the cave. Time spent with the recently turned adult teenager was mostly spent under a mask and brief. He mostly supported them through his personal “Bat Computer” in the Nest. Acting as a silent informant, sending them what they needed to know and keeping files up to date. Bruce even noticed he would correct grammar and spelling of other’s reports, especially on hard nights. He suspected his son was doing more in the shadows than even Oracle was aware of. To the world, without the title of “Red Robin'' it would be easy to forget he was one of the bats. 

It was almost comical, that the two heroes with Robin in their name, where seen the least with each other. Damian had already had trouble accepting Tim as a sibling, the strain and distance definitely didn’t help. But it would be ignorant to ignore Damian’s growth over the years. He had stopped trying to murder Tim, only giving the occasional verbal snipe at his older brother. Dick was especially proud that the little bird could say Tim’s name, well last name, without an insult tacked on. But Damian never reached out to his brother, and in all fairness neither did Tim. 

So on that rare night of having both Robins in the cave, Bruce paired the two. Only receiving a huff from Damian and a nod from Tim. The drug bust was mostly over, all they needed to do was collect samples and take inventory of one of the warehouses. Something anyone could do, probably on their own, Damian almost found it insulting. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

The League of Shadows wasn’t supposed to be involved.

Ra's wasn’t supposed to be there.

But he was, and now he was holding a dagger to his grandson’s throat. The boy's right arm rendered useless with a break and his left pinned behind his back. The skin around his eye was pink with irritation after having his mask ripped from his face. Damian felt exposed and vulnerable to the man who tried to train those feelings out of him. Tim on the other hand appeared calm and unaffected, which only made the other Robin feel ashamed. 

The League’s assassins blanketed the place, but gave a wide berth to their leader and the two other boys. It was impossible to estimate how many were lurking in the shadows, adding to the hopelessness of the situation. Ra's loomed over Damian and cruelly smiled. Damian could tell when Tim’s eyes met Ra’s through the lenses of his cowl. There was a small shiver that ran through the teen’s body. A tiny crack in the mask Damian had never seen before.

“Well Detective, look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself in”

Tim swallowed and remained silent. Logically Damian knew Tim was trained to deal with hostage situations. But he still felt fear grow in his heart that Tim would let him die. It would make sense, having the roles reversed Damain would have....

Any thoughts in the boy's head stopped when the blade dug deeper into his neck. He winced but remained silent.

“Nothing to say Detective? How disappointing, but not as disappointing as you Grandson.”

Damian grit his teeth in shame. Ra’s eyes didn’t even grace him, when the man spoke. He had been caught too far easily for one with his skills. It had been many years since he had seen his elder till that night, his mere presence stunned him. Ra took advantage of his surprise, swiftly disarming him and cruelly breaking his arm, all before he could utter a sound. Humiliation and a deep sadness pressed behind Damian’s eyes. He was nothing more than a bargaining chip to his own blood.

“What do you want?” Tim said firmly. His fist tightened at the sight of a crimson drop, slowly drifting down his younger brother's throat.

“Ahh he speaks” Ra's hummed while moving the blade ever so slightly away from the child’s neck. “I think you know what I want dear Detective.”

“Enlighten me”

“Your absolute surrender boy. Our games have gone on long enough.” Irritation leaked into the older man’s voice.

“If you want me to trade my life for Damian’s, I’ll gladly give it” Tim said without hesitation. Damian’s jaw dropped. Part of his mind screamed that he was lying or this was a trick. The rest felt, the older Robin must have some plan to get them both out of this. 

Ra’s simply smiled, while Red Robin removed his cowl. 

“But my loyalty will cost you more” 

The room froze. No one uttered a breath, Tim’s eyes locked with Ra's, his soul defiant.

The air was still as the two men stared at each other.  Damian felt his inside freeze as a ball of fear grew in his chest. Had the older Robin doomed them both to a swift death?

Ra's threw his head back and laughed. Damian, and some of the watching warriors, flinched at the outburst. Tim remained still as stone, even as Ra's pulled Damian closer, the blade returning to the young boy’s throat.

“You never cease to surprise me Detective. I should slit the boy's throat right here for your gall. But since you have given me such a laugh perhaps I will entertain you a little longer. What do you think you could demand from me?”

“I will give you my mind, body, and soul Ra's, but only if you leave Damian, the rest of the Wayne family, and Gotham alone. You may be able to force me to come with you physically. But I will deny you everything else I have unless my terms are met.” Tim raised a hidden blade of his own to his throat. His face unflinching as he dipped it just deep enough to draw a string of blood. He was tracing the scar Red Hood gave him so many years ago.

“Drake! N-” Damain was barely able to yell before Ra shoved him to the ground. 

“What makes you think you have any power here boy! Your foolish show of rebellion will only be undone by a simple dip in the Lazarus pit” Ra's hissed. Damian see feel his grandfather shake with rage.

“I only have the power you admire, a mind and soul that can easily be broken by resurrection in the pit. Especially if it takes you too long to get me in there. Even if the waters don’t break me, my memories will keep me defiant. You will never have the chance to use me to my full potential if I die here” - Tim dug a little deeper, not even wincing as more blood spilled - “and now. But swear you leave them alone, I will swear my loyalty to you. I will give you everything you desire. You can have all of me.” 

Damian gasped, and tried to stand. He was so confused, Tim was truly going to give himself up. And for him, the one who has tried to kill him so many times. The one whose first words were full of hate and vitriol. The one who never showed the older boy love. 

Ra’s face returned to a smug look, his eyes dragged up and down the man before him. Tim remained expressionless, defiance smoldering in his eyes. 

“Drake what, don’t!”

Ra's slammed a foot down on Damian's back. The boy let out a scream, as he was pinned to the ground. Tears began to flow from his eyes blurring his vision. His head swirled painfully as he willed himself not to pass out.

“Everything?”

“Everything”

Ra's lifted his foot, stepping away from his kin. Red Robin lowered the blade and reached out with his other hand. 

Ra's gripped Tim's hand, hard

“Deal” he said sinisterly

They parted and the elder turned to leave. Unafraid of having his back exposed to his rival, he had won. Ra's signed to his men with a simple wave and began to walk away. The ninjas closed in on Tim, they bound his wrists in thick cords that dug into his wrist painfully. Tim’s face crumbled in both relief and despair. He lowered his head and made his posture passive. Once the ninjas began to follow their leader, so did Tim. Damian could only watch as they moved past him. Not even spare him a glance. The boy tried to drag himself towards his brother, feeling something he could never describe. He gathered all his energy to utter one word.

“Tim” he sobbed no louder than a whisper.

The older boy paused and raised his head.

“Please take care of them, I’m sorry Dami” his form started to shake. The guards tried to shove him forward, but he planted his feet. 

“I’m sorry I was never a good big brother, I’m sorry I never tried to fix things between us” The ninjas gripped him pulling him forward. Tim tried to slow them down, he had to say this to Damain. 

“I’m proud you're Robin, and...”

Tim threw his head back and met Damian’s eyes. So many emotions etched on his face. Damian wanted to mirror him, but was only able to stare slack jawed.

“And I love you”

And then he was gone. The warehouse was empty of life except for a small crying boy. The silence was punishing and heavy. Damian pressed his head to the cool stone ground. Crushing his eyes shut as if he could escape this world like it was all a dream. 

“Don’t leave me,” he cried, but there was no one there to hear him.

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Dick Grayson watched his youngest brother’s chest rise and fall, almost unblinking. He felt if he looked away, even for a second, he’d lose another brother. It wasn’t easy being a vigilante family, knowing your siblings could die any night to cruel, cold hands. Dick almost screamed when he found Damian lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of a warehouse, earlier that night. His mind was empty, except for images of Jason’s death. He wasn’t on earth when Jason died, he didn’t even get to go to his funeral. Dick forced Bruce to show him photos of the crime scene. Of what happened to his precious younger brother. 

It was only Damian’s haggard breath that woke him from his thoughts. He called Oracle right away, almost shouting as he shared the details of Damian’s injuries. He was so focused on his youngest brother, that he had all but forgotten Tim was supposed to be with him till Batman asked Red Robin’s status over the comms. He didn’t have the answer. A new surge of panic flared within him, only to be halted by Oracle giving the location of his tracker. It wasn’t too far away, Batman ordered Nightwing to take Robin back to the Cave. Before he could even think of protesting Batman stated he would go after Red Robin. Dick could only pray his other brother would be okay as he rushed Damian away.

Now he found himself bouncing his knee in a chair next to Damian’s cot. Alfred had treated Damian's wounds, burying the boy in bandages. He then returned to the computer, once he was certain the youngest of the Waynes was stable. Dick followed a silent order to watch over Damian as the other Bats got things together.

Dick brushed a hand over Damian’s gentle locks, trying to keep his brain from spiraling over his other missing brother. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission, more of a team building exercise for them

Dick let his hand drift to the young boy’s cheek. Guilt mixing into his clouded thoughts.

I should have gone with them, should have been closer

Grayson was drawn out of his self loathing and regret by the sound of a familiar motorcycle entering the cave. They had taken the Batmobile back, leaving Bruce taking a rare ride on Nightwing’s bike. He was barely able to tear himself away from Damian’s side to peek out the Med bay’s door. Hoping to see two family members dismounting the bike. His heart sunk lower when he saw only one. Batman stood hunched by the bike, his cape hiding most of his body. 

Time seemed to stop for Dick. He felt an air bubble grow in his skull crushing all thoughts. The world seemed to lose color, his vision tunneled as he walked to his father. He couldn’t feel any air reach his lungs, his face and fingertips tingled. Bruce turned to Dick, a small but powerful frown resting on his face. 

Before either could even think of saying anything, another motorcycle roared into the cave. The angry sound echoed, only to stop suddenly as its rider planted one boot off the bike.

“What the hell happened tonight!” Red Hood yelled, marching to his family.

Both men remained silent, only staring at the new arrival. Jason ripped his helmet off, throwing it across the room. His face painted with rage, his eyes greener than Dick had seen for a long time. Jason grabbed the front of Batman’s suit, pulling him close.

“I said, what the fuck happened tonight” he spit. Green eyes glared into the passive white lenses.

Batman removed his cowl to meet those eyes.

“Robin is injured but stable, Red Robin is... missing in action” He petered out at the end. 

If it was any other situation Dick might have found it funny hearing the role reversal. He could recall many nights of him or Jason having to give a report to Batman. The uncomfortableness of facing their mistakes causing them to pause just as Bruce did. Robin reporting to Batman, now Batman reporting to Robin. Dick could hear static growing in his ears, his body starting to shake. The two other men were staring at each other for a beat. 

Jason released Bruce's collar, tilting his head down. The shadows almost hid his face if not for the green glow. 

“Who has him?”

Dick felt only the chill of dread creep up his body. He couldn’t handle this again. Bruce turned his head away. Dick wished he could see his face, know what the man was thinking.

“The League of Shad-”

Jason’s fist hit Bruce’s jaw before he could finish. His teeth clicked with the force.

Dick sucked in a breath. His numb vessel regained all sensations at once. His jaw dropped but he quickly covered his mouth, to muffle a gag. Of all the groups to have Tim, very few could be worse than The League. It had only been two years ago that Ra's kicked his little brother out a window. Acidic bile rose in his throat as remembered catching his brother. His body lurched remembering how he almost didn’t. 

Bruce took the blow he could have easily blocked. He only closed his eyes in response. Jason looked ready to punch him once more, only to be stopped by the man he respected the most. 

“Master Jason '' Alfred's stern voice cut through. Jason gloves creaked as he tightened his fist. “Hurting one another is not helping Master Tim.” Jason closed his eyes, his shoulders raised with his breath. He pushed a hard finger to Bruce’s chest. 

“We better find him alive this time,” he said gruffly, turning back to his bike. He looked to Alfred, then to Dick, finally rested on Bruce. He revved his bike louder than necessary.

“Or you’ll be losing more than one son.”

Chapter Text

Red Hood was on a warpath. Blood painted the walls of Crime Alley, a warning that most criminals heeded. But that didn’t stop idiots with too much money, like the John who got a little too handsy with one of the working girls. He soon found his head getting pounded into the wall a good five or so times. Red Hood wasn’t counting, and the girl had long run off before the man was released. Usually Red Hood would wait for a sign from the sex workers, in case it was some sort of kink play or they were okay with how things were going. Everyone who worked the streets in Red Hood’s territory knew if things got bad to spell “RH” with some kind of body part if they needed help. Red Hood’s rage left little room for patience these past few weeks.
The scum on the ground barely breathing, his nose collapsed and his teeth dropping into the puddles below. Hood's hand unclenched to reach for his gun. He hadn't killed in a long time, but the green helped him take the safety off. The poor bastard was only saved by an incoming call.

Without a second thought Jason answered it.. He hadn’t spoken to any of the Bats since Red Robin's kidnapping. Oracle was the only one who had this line, and he had told her in no uncertain terms not to bother him unless it was about a certain missing bird. He clicked the safety back on.

“Talk to me,” he said , holstering his gun. The smear on the ground got lucky tonight, he’d live.

“We have a probable location” a familiar voice responded.

“Probable?” he said curiously, green rage scratching at his throat.

“Talia sent me the floor plan for the base she thinks he’s in. Batplane leaves at ten, I can brief you on the way.” She said curtly. Jason snorted as he revved his bike.
Oracle filled in some details as he drove. Talia hadn’t given them much these past three weeks. It wasn’t unusual for her to be tight lipped about the League's plans, but after Damian of all people demanded his lost brother’s location she promised to look into it. More than once Hood contemplated finding the assassin and forcing more out of her. He was glad she finally had something to give. Dear old dad had left her in the dark, not even telling her anything about the captured bird. She has to defy him and snoop through hidden files. It had her quite shaken up according to the report Oracle had sent him.

“En route” He said, ending the call. It was time to get his fucking brother back.

Jason was burning rubber on the way to the cave. He dared any cop to try and stop him. He swore he saw one turn away as he passed. Guess the blood worked on pigs too.

Once he made it to the cave, he lost his drive for speed. Jason tried to take deep breaths as he parked his bike. He might not be the biggest fan of the Bats, but he and Red Robin had made peace in recent years. He still gave him shit all the time, but hey brothers were supposed to give each other shit. Replacement was always ready to snipe back a snarky response. As much as Jason would deny it, he cared for the little shit. Whatever remaining beef he had with the Bats, would be left on the back burner till they found him.

His heavy steps echoed around the cave, and a group of (actual) bats flew overhead. Their shrieks reverberated through the air. Nightwing and Batman were already waiting at the jet, Alfred not far away fiddling with a tablet. Red Hood paused when Nightwing turned his head to him. He was lacking his patent Grayson confidence, head low and shoulders pulled inward. Hood slowly cocked his head, only to receive a nod in return. Batman looked at both his sons with his usual stone cold expression. Then he gave Alfred one final look and entered the plane. Jason held in a laugh.

Typical emotionless asshole.

“Where’s Babybat?” he asked approaching the plane. Dick flinched and looked away. Any other time Jason would be grateful not to hear his brother blab, but right now it was a little unsettling.

“Master Damian is still recovering from his injuries. He will not be joining you on this mission, no matter his insistence" Alfred answered.

Hood eyebrows rose under his helmet, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Damian was getting better at being a person, holding his past behavior even subconsciously was hypocritical. Plus there was no stopping Alfred when it came to health. With a salute to his elder, Hood hopped on the plane.

The Batplane was silent except for the hum of its engines. Tension seemed to rise as it took off, everyone kept their belts on and lips shut. Once high enough the plane was set to auto pilot, and they all gathered in the cabin. No one felt like wasting time. A hologram blinked into the room, projected from light on the center table. A faintly glowing schematic of the compound rotated slowly. It wasn’t very big, Jason remembered the base he was kept in being at least twice the size. Probably a transitional area, they would need to be quick.

“These are three possible locations they could be holding him. We have two options, we can go in stealth together. Knock each location off the list, without raising the alarm, till we find Red Robin. If they are aware we are coming, they may move or harm him. The other option would be splitting up so we can hit each area around the same time.”
Dick jerked his head up with a frown, anger leaking into his brow.
“Bruce, splitting up is what lost us Tim in the first place! We are stronger together, I can’t risk-” Dick choked, "anyone else” the man was shaking. It wasn’t uncommon for Dick to get emotional, especially when it came to family. But it was unusual that no one tried to comfort him.

Jason sighed and crossed his arms. Looks like he was going to have to calm him down.

“Listen Dickie, if we go with the first option we risk Tim’s safety. Ra will take him and run at the first sign of us. The second plan may be more dangerous for us individually, but it’s worth the risk. Older brothers gotta take care of the younger ones.” Might have been a manipulative way of wording things but it was true, unfortunately it had the opposite effect Jason was going for.

“You're my little brother too! I already lost you once, I already let you be held by The League” Dick sobbed. Tears leaked through his mask, his lips quivered.

Jason froze, not sure of what to say. He knew Dick always held some guilt about what happened but hadn't seen him cry about it in a long time. Jason didn’t know how to respond with anything but anger when talking about his death. Usually he would just shut down and leave. Maybe the old man was rubbing off on him more than he thought.

Batman walked towards Nightwing, cutting through Jason’s line of thought. Red Hood tensed ready to do something. He wasn’t sure what, but he didn’t want things to get worse. He almost gasped when the man wrapped an arm over the tearful hero’s shoulder.

“Chum, I don’t wanna lose Jason again either. I never want to lose anyone from this family again. This time we are going in with more knowledge and open communication.” Bruce looked at Jason with an emotion the younger couldn’t identify and it wasn’t because of the cowl. “We will be in the same building and fighting for the same goal. I gave two options because we will all need to be on the same page for this or we will lose someone. I love that you care about your brothers, about this family, but you need to think about this with a clear head. We don't have to decide the plan right now, so...” he paused, holding an arm out to Jason. “Right now it's okay to cry, to worry. But when we get there we have to be focused, for Tim”

Dick nuzzled into Bruce, he looked so small next to the large man. His sobs were the only sound Jason could hear as he stared at Bruce’s outstretched arm.

“Looks like therapy doing its job” He said, letting Bruce gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Looks like you're finally getting your act together and getting that stick out your ass.” His voice hitched at the end. He didn’t press into the embrace like Dick, the old man hadn't earned it yet. A few words wouldn’t erase years of pain, but it did start to heal them.

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In the end Dick agreed to splitting up, but only on the conditions they all kept their communicators on and kept each other updated. When the plane touched down, Dick looked to his younger brother once more.

“Be safe, Little Wing” he begged.

Jason saw a memory flicker under his eyes when he blinked. It had been one of the first nights they went out, just the two of them. Nightwing soaring through the skies followed by a little Robin.

The birds had perched on a roof for a break. Dick raised a greasy bag to Jason.

“Hungry?” He said playfully.

“What, when did you get that? I didn’t even see you stop” Jason said, amazed, grabbing a burger from the bag. He was shocked to find it still warm.

“You have much to learn Little Wing, I got tricks that even old Bats doesn’t know about” He winked, grabbing a fry.

“Little Wing, again? Why don’t you just call me Robin.”

“Hey you're my sidekick tonight, so you're my Little Wing” He ruffled Jason’s hair with a smile. They ended up snacking on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the empty road below. Jason felt warmth, not just from his full stomach, but also in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but not a bad one. Dick recounted a tale of when he last faced Two-Face, making dramatic gestures with each detail. The man was a storyteller, he’d give him that. But Jason couldn’t help his thoughts drifting to his father, to his life before.

Did Robin ever fight my Dad?

Does Dick even know about my Dad? Does he know what I come from?

Guilt swirled in his stomach, making him almost regret eating a second burger. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the pause in the older hero’s story.

“What’s wrong Little Wing?”

Jason jumped up, almost falling off the roof. Thankfully the other bird grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“Woah woah careful, my nickname doesn’t give you actual wings” He joked trying to lighten the mood. Jason blushed ducking his head, he was so embarrassed. He raised his gaze at the Nightwing after taking a deep breath.

“Did Br-Batman ever tell you about my life before all this?” He asked in a small voice.

Nightwing’s brow rose and his smile fell. He didn’t usually like answering questions about Batman. Dick still hadn’t forgiven Bruce and refused to work with him directly. For the first year of a new Robin, Nightwing refused to acknowledge Jason too. Jason didn’t know what changed to make the man patrol with him. He had to make sure Dick knew. Secrets were one of many things that ruined Dick’s relationship with Bruce. Jason didn’t want it to ruin his chance of getting to know his older brother. Jason felt anxiety take over, he twisted his fingers together waiting for a response.

“He told me a little bit. He told me you lived on the street. That Gotham’s alleys were cruel to you. That you didn’t have the best adults in you're lif-”

“Did he tell you my Dad worked for Two Face?!” Jason all but shouted when he interrupted. The boys vision got blurry, small tears dropped onto his gloves. “Did he tell you I’m a thief? That I’m a criminal just like my fucking father?” He sobbed.

“Jason”

The young boy whipped his tears and turned to look at the other hero. Dick slowly raised his hand, coordinating his movements till it rested on the boy's head.

“You did what you had to survive. You’re not your past and you're not your father, you are Robin.”
Dick ruffled his hair a bit. “But most importantly you're Jason. Bruce saw something in you.” He cupped the back of Jason’s neck, pulling him into a hug. “He chose to have you by his side as Robin and his son. And I choose to have you at mine as a brother.”

Jason almost started crying all over again, but the moment was ruined by gunshots down the block.

“Duty calls” Nightwing chuckled and stood. He reached a hand out to Robin, smiling down. Jason rubbed away his tears and smirked. He dashed ahead of the other vigilante.

“Be safe Little Wing!” Nightwing called as Robin grappled ahead.

“Come on Dickwing, race ya!” he responded, sticking out his tongue.

Jason shook himself free from the past. Now was not the time to be lost in memories. He eyed Dick for a second, the man was way too tense for his liking. He gave a hard clap on his older brother’s back before walking ahead.

“Come on Dickwing, we’ve got a Baby Bird to save.”

He didn’t see it, but he knew Dick was smiling.

Chapter Text

Red Hood stalked the halls of the base, keeping to the shadows just how Batman taught him. Each corner he turned made him more and more uneasy. The floors were made out of simple metal and old stone brick layered the walls. Dreary bulbs barely light the space around them, it felt too simple for a League compound. The place was quiet, he hadn’t seen any guards for a while. Something was happening and he really hated not knowing what.

“Still no ninjas on my end. My route might be a bust” he whispered into the communicator in his helmet.

“I’ve got plenty of troops in my sector, not sure what they're up to, but they seem frantic. Oh, I think I found the communication room, I'll connect Oracle to the system when I get a chance” Nightwing responded.

“As soon as you put the flash drive in their systems I can start fighting for access. Red Robin left some notes on hacking League systems, it shouldn’t take long to get in” Oracle said.

Hood was about to turn another corner when he stepped in something wet. He gazed down at a red trail, the mass of blood growing till it led to a fresh corpse. His eyes darted around the body, thankfully finding nothing related to his missing brother. The warrior had a clean stab wound to the heart, the angle was fairly low. It wasn’t Tim that’s all the matter to him.

“Just found a dead league member. Hasn’t been bleeding too long, probably still warm.”

“Hood proceed with caution, we might not be the only ones breaking in” Batman growled.

“Understood”

Jason let out a sigh after muting his mic, the odds of another group breaking with neither the League or the Bats knowing were pretty low. He tried not to get too angry over them not even considering Tim might be responsible, afraid to admit Tim might have broken the number one rule. It was a worthless rule to a man like Jason, in his mind all this would be self defense. Hell, he'd been tempted to hunt down a few random League member’s out of spite. But he refused to let his mind be clouded by worries of his mentor rejecting the younger hero after this. But still the vigilante found a small part of him clench at the idea of his younger brother getting blood on his hands. Red Hood avoided a few more pools of blood as he crept forward. The dim lights reflecting on the crimson liquid pouring out of several more corpses. Each body he passed had messier and messier wounds, all angled low. Whoever made them was getting sloppy, probably from exhaustion. The hallway led to a dark room, door held open by yet another League member’s body. He saw the eyes of the man start to go dull, blood was still oozing from multiple gashes on his gut. His last breath was a gasp.

The kill was fresh, he was close

Red Hood readied his handgun, flicked the safety off, and quickly stepped into the room.

“Freeze!” He shouted pointing his weapon into the room.

He took a sharp breath and froze. In the darkness he couldn't make out anything but a pair of bright green eyes staring back at him. A familiar burn flashed through his veins.

Lazarus Pit

Every part of his body begged to shoot at the hidden figure, well except his brain, who noticed how small the eyes were. How the sickly green illuminated just enough to show soft and small features. Whoever was sitting in the shadows was a child, a killing machine fueled by anger and The Pit, but a child all the same. Horror and rage threatened to consume the older man, the tainted blood in his veins craved violence for the cruelty inflicted on the child. He’d love to answer it, embrace it. But he punished it down instead, other people’s lives were on the line. Jason flicked on his safety, he couldn’t kill a kid no matter what. Judging by the height alone the older man figured he could handle them with bare hands. Finding Tim was put on the back burner now that a child was involved. Jason would have to deal with this before going after the missing bird. He lowered his weapon slowly, trying not to frighten the hiding child anymore.

“Hey there” Jason said, then cursed. A modulated voice was not very comforting. “I’m gonna put this away okay, I’m not here to hurt you.”

The child remained silent, only holding a steady unblinking gaze. Jason holstered his gun, unsure of how to proceed. Jesus, he was probably scaring the kid more just by being in the room with them.

“Oracle” he said after activating a private line.

“Copy Hood, You okay?” She answered, clearly worried about the sudden secrecy.

Jason paused, trying to find his words.

“I found a kid...They are hiding but are clearly under the influence of The Pit”

The eyes blinked at him in recognition, it was not a comforting sign.

“A child? The League put a child in The Pit?!? Do you think they are responsible for the dead bodies you’ve seen?” Oracle said with horror creeping into her voice.

“Yes, they don’t seem aggressive to me though. They are quite small and young but The Pit can turn anyone into a monster.”

“Are they injured?”

Jason squinted into the room, starting to make out the outline of the person. They were crotch, low to the ground and back to the wall. A defensive position, poised to strike. He pondered how to approach, drawing back on all his experience with scared kids. Crime Alley was no stranger to terrified children, with Gotham’s rogues and human traffickers there were many dangers they faced each day. Fear was the only thing keeping most of them alive. When Red Hood first appeared taking down local big bads, the youths saw him as another masked murder trying to be top dog. It was only after many slow gentle conversations and kind deeds, did Red Hood change from monster to protector in their eyes. Jason was still haunted by the ones he couldn’t save, the ones who he was too late for. He felt The Pit again trying to rise as he worked through his memories. He forced himself to smother it and decided to take a gamble.

“I can’t make out much more than their eyes. I think they're scared, I’m gonna take my helmet off and try to talk to them”

“Hood don-” Jason muted her before she could finish.

“I’ll update you as soon as I can”

His helmet hissed as the seal lifted. He had always had a domino underneath, in case of a situation like this. Without the hood of his costume children tended to be more willing to give him a chance.

Step one, let them know who you are and why you are there. People tend to be afraid of the unknown, children especially

“Hey bud, let’s just calm down.” Jason said lowering to their level. “I know things seem scary and that voice in your head is probably screaming to fight. But I’m not here to hurt you. Name's Red Hood and I’m here to help.”

The silence continued as the child's eyes moved up and down the figure. Jason prayed that was a sign of progress and not more fear.

He reached for his flashlight.

Step two, tell them what you are going to do and why. Surprises tend to lead to more panic.

“I’m gonna turn on a light okay? It’s gonna be bright, but I’m not trying to blind you. I just wanna check you are not hurt okay? Can you make a noise if you understand?”

Unfortunately continued silence was his only answer.

Step three, keep calm and keep talking, even if you get nothing in response. It will help ground the both of you.

“Okay well, I’m just gonna point this at the ground first. Everything is gonna be okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jason flicked on the light, true to his word pointing to the ground first.

So far so good

“I’m going to raise this slowly, okay? You don’t have to be afraid, I’m here to help you.”

Slowly he ran the light from the ground to the child's blood covered feet. Their tiny toes curled, gripping the ground. It seemed like the blood wasn’t coming from any major wounds. He raised it a little more to reveal a tiny chest with two blood soaked hands ready to strike. In their left hand, they had a small dagger. The kid had been through a lot of bodies to get blood all the way down to his elbows.

“It’s okay bud, I’m going to protect you. You don’t have to fight anymore. You’re safe now”

Jason raised the light, and for the second time he found himself frozen. He knew that face, but it wasn’t possible. His eyes snapped to the child’s neck. A familiar scar ran across it, a scar Jason knew too well. A scar he sliced into his brother’s neck.

Tim?

“Robin?” a tiny voice rasped. The boy’s body sagged a bit, the dagger fell from his hands. It made a small sound when it hit the metal floor.

“Robin, I knew you’d save me,” the little boy smiled. His features softened completely as tears gathered in his eyes. Then promptly collapsed forward. He would have fallen face first into the cruel hard ground if Jason hadn’t dashed to catch him.

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Jason’s ears were ringing, he didn’t know where he was. Gentle breaths tickled his neck, starting to drag him back to reality. He looked down at the too light, too tiny boy in his arms. Said arms didn’t feel like his own. Everything was wrong and he didn’t know how to make it right. The older boy cupped the back of the younger's head. His hair was almost completely white, with a few streaks of black peeking through. He pulled the child’s body close, his own vessel curled around the sleeping figure creating a barrier . Something deep in his frayed mind told him to protect the boy from everything. The world was wrong but the warmth he felt from the little body was right.

Static stabbed through the clouds in his mind. All his senses sharped suddenly, making him gasp from the shock. His helmet was next to him, was making noises too quiet to understand. He lost track of time again staring at it, till finally something in his brain connected enough to put the thing on.

“Red Hood! Red Hood report! Jason so help m-” a shrill voice screamed at him.

“What?” he wheezed trying to find himself

Red Hood? I’m Red Hood, but I’m also...

“Jason! Oh thank god”

The voice was familiar to him. He mouthed the name a few times before saying it.

“Babs?”

“Yes Jason it's me. Are you okay? Batman and Ni-Dick are coming to stay put.” Babs said clearly trying to sound calmer. Jason took a deep breath, he felt connected to his body again. He tried to focus on the conversation and nothing else. He was still reeling from the dissociative episode, but was able to form clearer thoughts.

“I...I’m...okay, well mostly” he answered robotically.

“Well that’s good, just stay put okay. Bruce is gonna be there first. Is the kid okay? Did you find anything?” the woman asked.

Jason glanced down at the sleeping child in his arms. He had no doubt the boy in his arms was the one they were looking for.

“I found Tim”

Chapter Text

The night Jason died was not the first time Barbara felt the icy chill of powerlessness in her veins, that place would be held by the night Joker shot her. But the intensity of it all would be forever ingrained into her mind. Her blood felt like slush and her hands were frozen over the computer after she heard that damned warehouse explode. No matter how hard she tried she was still too late to save Jason. It truly made her feel weak, incompetent. She was Oracle. She was supposed to keep the bats and birds of Gotham safe, use her mind and skill to foresee catastrophe. That or atleast find a solution or find them at least. But she couldn’t find Robin that night, she couldn’t find Jason. And he died, alone.

Everything involving her nightlife crumbled with the walls of the building that witnessed the second Robin’s final breath. Batman was a drunken mess, Alfred had all but given up on life, and Dick...Dick and her relationship was holding on by a thread. A small thread that threatened to snap at any moment. She tried not to think about the long nights of tears and screaming between the two.

One night she powered down the clock tower, looked at herself in the black mirror that was her screen, and thought it was the end.

Then she heard a buzzing noise from a dusty corner of her desk.. Her eyes dragged to the long discarded cellphone the Wayne’s had set up for her when she first took to the skies as Batgirl. That call changed everything.

A young voice erupted from the device, demanding information about Two Face’s location. Before she could question anything, he stated Batman and Nightwing needed help. That they were both captured and that he was the only one who could save them. When she asked who this wild child was and how he got the cell number, he just rattled off all of their identities casually. Barabra’s jaw was already on the floor, then it fell through the clock tower when he stated he was the new Robin.

That call was the start of a new era of all their lives. Tim came in like a truck and there was no stopping him. He dragged them all kicking and screaming from the dark abyss of misery they were in. He left no room for argument, holding both promises he’d reveal all their identities and even worse that he would go out as Robin without them, if he wasn’t trained. At first he drove her crazy, none of them wanted another Robin. The new little Robin was much more into technology than his predecessors, begging Oracle insistently to be taught her ways. His stubbornness and dedication won him some respect from the woman, but his behavior out of the mask wormed the little bird into her heart. When the mask was off, Tim Drake took over. The boy was shy and quiet, having an uncomfortable amount of respect for them all. She even, had to tell him over a dozen times not to call her Ms. Gordon and that one apology would be enough for any mistake. He won them all over in little ways; sometimes his eyes shined when he was recognized or sometimes he’d pull up his shoulders while receiving the tiniest amount of praise. Barbara was sure she wasn’t the only one who found the boy truly adorable. But it should have set off a few alarm bells for her, especially when he would be so tight-lipped about his life outside of the mask. She regretted not saying anything then, and later agonized over it when Bruce returned from being “dead”.

Because Barbara realized that she, like the other adults in his life, used him. The young hero did so much for all of them and asked for little in return. She liked to think she tried to build a relationship with him. That they were closer in the later years. But she never apologized or thanked him, no she left it ignored. Left it to fester like a wound. She was afraid to lose Tim, as a teammate and as family.

That fear fueled her dedication and passion when Tim was taken by the League of Shadows. The flames of her love kept her body from freezing like before. She spent many sleepless nights combing over the footage from Damian’s mask. Watching Tim get dragged away on replay, see him turn back to tell his younger brother he loved him for possibly the last time. She wouldn’t let it be the last time. She worked with Damian to press Talia to get the lost bird’s location.

All the birds would come home to the nest, alive this time.

So now on the rescue mission, when Red Hood asked for a private line Oracle was already concerned. She held her breath when Jason told her about the child he discovered. Jason always had a weak spot for kids even in his Robin days. Oracle could remember long nights where Batman and his second Robin would take down trafficking rings. The boy was always first to ask about the status of the younger victims. She was grateful that soft spot had followed the vigilante, that The Pit hadn’t taken that from him. Speaking of The Pit, Barara gasped weakly when Jason first told her about green eyes the child held. She was horrified that The League of Assassin’s would do that to a kid. She thought they would only dip those who were dying or injured in The Pit, which was usually only the case for trained soldiers not children. Her heart ached, but she remained focused.

As she conversed with Red Hood, Oracle was quickly trying to find a way into the base’s mainframe. Nightwing had finally found a port to plug the flash drive in. As soon it connected, the virus implanted in it created a link to Clocktower and she began to break in. She was glad she could finally do something during the rescue mission and not just listen to the others talk. It was extremely frustrating that none of the built in cameras on the helmet/cowls could be on. They already had signals coming from their coms and trackers, they couldn’t afford to risk discovery with any other ones. Her fingers raced over her keyboard, the quick clicks of her mouse filled the room. She had about five monitors running now, each showing different strings of data and text. To anyone else the amount of information would be maddening. But this was the young woman’s super power. She may not be able to fight on the ground, but in her clock tower she could bring any organization to their knees. If she wasn’t also dealing with the situation with the mystery child, she would be smiling with the adrenal rush from all the numbers appearing to her.

And then Red Hood took off said hood.

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An explosion of curses emerging from Nightwing’s earpiece, caused him to wince. He thanked his years of training for keeping him from alerting the guard that just passed him.

“Red Hood has encountered an unknown child under the effects of The Pit. He just took off his helmet while trying to talk to them” Oracle stated thick with frustration.

“Oracle location now” Batman demanded.

“Dammit J” Nightwing swore.

Said “guard” Nightwing thought failed to see him in the shadow, swiveled around after hearing his voice. Nightwing charged the guard, tackling them to the ground. The hero jammed his escrima stick into the other man’s gut, effectively knocking the breath out of his lungs before he hit the ground. Nightwing wasted no time flicking on his escrima and shocking the man till he fell unconscious.

“Nightwing you okay?” Oracle asked.

“Fine O, just had to make sure my friend here didn’t sound an alarm.”

“Okay, I just sent you and Batman Red Hood's helmets loc- Red Hood just came back online!”

“Patch us in but keep our mics silent on his end. Too many of us talking at once will overwhelm him” Batman ordered.

There was a brief pause among all of them. Dick had to bite his tongue, wanting to keep the line clear. He began to drag the league member to the closet door he could see. They weren’t too heavy, but Nightwing was taking his time to make sure he didn't make any more sound than necessary. Thankfully the door he chose was unlocked and he got them both in a dark room. He flicked on his pen light and lifted the other man’s eye lid. Call him paranoid but he tried to always check that unfriendlies were actually unconscious before leaving them. When you take a bullet to the thigh because a goon was only “pretending”, you tend to pick up some habits. After binding the guard’s hand, Nightwing left soundlessly, closing the door behind him.

“Red Hood! Red Hood report! Jason so help m-” Oracle screamed at him.

“What?” Jason wheezed. Everyone took a collective (quiet) sigh hearing his response.

“Jason! Oh thank god”

There were a few loud breaths before Jason responded again.

“Babs?”

“Yes Jason it's me. Are you okay? Batman and Ni-Dick are coming to stay put.”
Usually Batman would chastise the use of civilian names, but Jason was clearly having some sort of panic attack or dissociative episode. Dick felt a flare of pride for his father for not falling into old practice.

Thank God for therapy

“I...I’m...okay, well mostly” the youngest man answered robotically.

Now Dick was mentally betting it was a “dissociative episode Jason” they were dealing with. In some messed up way it was the better of the two options. Dissociative episodes usually left Jason confused and unresponsive, only occasionally becoming violent when he became too overwhelmed. Panic attacks were something they were still trying to figure out, usually his younger brother would run when able to, and fight when cornered. Trauma was a complex puzzle for each of them. They all had horrifying specters of their past that threaten to consume them in the worst of times. It didn’t make them weak or malicious, no one in the family wanted to hurt each other (no matter what some of them would say otherwise). But it did make them have to handle certain situations and triggers carefully.

If only this family would talk more about their feelings, instead of putting on a mask to hide from them.

But am I really that better?

Dick promised to himself he would deal with his “trauma specters”...eventually

“Well that’s good, just stay put okay. Bruce is gonna be there first. Is the kid okay? Did you find anything?” Oracle asked much calmer than before.

Dick peaked at his map, there was no way for him to get to Jason first. He grabbed his dark curls and pulled to relieve some stress. What could he do to help his little brothers from so far away? Bruce, no matter how much he was trying to improve, still had the emotional sensitivity of a brick when it came to Jason. Plus now there was another kid, and they hadn’t even found Tim yet!

“I found Tim”

Who knew three words could cause such a mix of emotions? Thankfully Dick’s big brother mode pushed all of them out of his head and took the reins.

“Babs patch me in now” Dick said with dead seriousness.

Bruce tried to say something but was immediately cut off.

“Bruce shut up, let me handle this. Get to Jason but do not go in the room till I tell you. Well unless one of them is dying. If you barrel in there before Jason is ready he will shoot you. Now keep the line clear!” Dick tried not to shout but he might have been shouting by the end of it.

The Bat let out a few grumbles but stayed silent. Oracle happily connected Nightwing, relieved that she could focus more on hacking.

“Hey Little Wing, it’s me Dick. Your big brother?” Dick spoke with a gentle voice. If his younger brother was in any other situation he’d snap at Dick for “babying him”. It’s not babying, it's being gentle and caring!

Once again he had to endure a pause, praying that it was a good sign. His prayers were answered by a weak hum from the other man.

“It's good to hear from you, good job finding Tim. Me, B, and O are all here for you both okay. We are gonna be there soon. But let’s just take things slow and by the book for now. Okay?”

“Yeah...just give me time to respond. I’m not...I’m coming out of a bad episode. Just go slow and by the book” Jason said with a little more clarity. Dick smiled as he slinked through the halls, relying on his instincts to keep him undetected. It was like half his brain was in big brother mode and the other half in Bat mode.

“Slow and by the book, I promise. Okay, first, are you injured?”

“N-no, I’m good. Tim’s the one, he is not right. I don’t think he’s hurt but, he is not right,” panic crept deeper in each word the younger man spoke.

“Just focus on my questions Little Wing. Is there anything life threatening in the room with you right now?” Dick motified the second question to Jason. Usually he would ask if they were in danger, but that seemed like a mute point. They were still in a League base after all.

“Other than me?” Jason chuckled. Dick smiled knowing his brother was getting back on track. With some light banter the two went through the rest of the emergency procedure. From what the younger vigilante shared, it seemed Dick’s younger brothers were at least breathing. Jason had no injuries, but was still coming down from shock. Tim on the other hand was not critically injured. Jason had trouble telling what damage the boy had due to all the blood. Which he quickly added wasn’t coming from Tim after everyone took a sharp inhale. Nightwing assumed the small child Jason found was actually just Tim. Batman was still muted on Red Hood’s end, but was exchanging updates with Oracle. By the time he reached Red Hood’s location, Dick was pretty confident that his brother had stabilized. Still he reminded his father to go slow.

“You gonna let Big Bats come in without shooting him?” Dick said coyly

“Yeah, yeah I’m not gonna give B any shots. You know he is a bitch about them unless Alfred does it” Jason chuckled.

A familiar clicking sound indicated Oracle had enabled all their mics.

Nightwing peered around the corner, three league members stood in a circle a few feet from him. One of them was gesturing to the others rapidly. The hero couldn’t make out what they were saying but the other two men paled at the news. Then they broke away quickly, spreading out.

“Where’s Tim?” Bruce asked.

“Here” Jason gave a short response. There was a rustling on clothing, then a pause over the communicator. It was broken by Bruce making vague humm, like he was looking at a puzzle or trick. Not a good sign

“B listen, I know he looks different, not right, but look. Look! He has the scar, the scar I gave him.” Jason became more frantic with each word.

Dick was really wishing he was with them, but then he heard the frantic chatter of another league member passing him. He was still learning Arabic from Damian but he could make out “missing” and “boy”, and didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Oracle”

“I know N, just got into the security system. I just blocked two alarm triggers, they know”

“Bruce please, you gotta believe me! This is Tim, no magic, no cloning could copy this scar! I know it’s Tim!” Jason begged. It was alarming that Jason was trying to convince Bruce he had Tim. What did the league do to their little brother?

“I’m scrambling their communications and sending false signals. Batman, Red Hood we have to go now! Do you have Red Robin?” Oracle ordered with the furious clicking of computer keys.

“Bruce please” Jason whispered, his voice wet with emotion. Nightwing ran towards his family's location, checking a distracted league member into a wall then ducking under another two. He could hear gun fire behind him but thankfully he turned the corner fast enough to dodge any projectile after him. Unfortunately there was another guard a few feet ahead of him.

“Confirmed” Batman stated.

“Thank God” Nightwing sighed, blocking the warrior’s blade with one of his escrima sticks and using the other to shock the blade’s owner.

“Retreating to the Batplane. Oracle, send Nightwing the most efficient route and try to stop the alarms. Nightwing when you reach the plane, prep the medbay” Batman commanded.

“Minor injuries, probably minor injuries” Dick whispered quietly to himself.

Chapter Text

Batman held a tiny child in his arms. He kept one ungloved hand on the back of the boy's neck as he ran, he needed to feel the beating heart through his figure tips. He mentally reminded himself that a beating heart meant the child was still alive. That the third Robin was still alive and he had not been too late this time.

When Jason first showed him the kid, Bruce had many doubts. The boy did look like a much younger Tim Drake, but that could be explained through cloning or some magical trick. Magic tended to lead to mysteries that logic couldn’t solve, it made his job as a detective difficult. But Bruce wasn’t just a detective, he was also a father. And that part of his mind knew that this was his boy. Before Jason even pointed at the scars on the younger boy's neck. Bruce’s eyes already saw several scars he knew Tim had. Many were from the boy's Robin days; a line above his left ear from a stray bottle, a circular scar from a bullet that ripped through his right shoulder, a cut across his collar bone from a knife. These were easy to see with the naked eye, so perhaps they could have been recreated.

But what cemented this was Tim in Bruce’s mind was the faint crescent shaped indent on the child’s left ankle. Unless you knew what you were looking for, you’d never know it's there. This scar came from long ago.

It was only two months into the third Robin's training, when Tim ran into the kitchen with a bloody foot. It was the first time Bruce had seen Tim so panicked. The young boy’s voice quivered with each word as he asked for a medkit. Bruce stood, completely useless, as his butler took over the situation. Alfred inspected the foot on the spot, while Tim told them how a dog had bitten him on the way to the manor. When the old butler told him he didn’t need stitches, the young boy tried to pull away. Bruce was about to intervene when the Robin in training apologized. Then Tim took a half step back from the adults and well, “turned off”. Like a machine with no batteries, Tim became still and stiff. His face became blank and he apologized again, this time specifically for making a fuss. Bruce’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the young boy stating he would handle his own injuries. Thankfully, once again Alfred took over, he hushed the boy and reassured him. The old man gently guided Tim to a chair and told Bruce to “do something more than stand there”. Well not those exact words, it was much more polite but had just as much sass. It snapped Bruce into action and he quickly got the supplies. When he returned Tim was almost hyperventilating. He begged the butler to let him take a sample from the wound. The boy was convinced that he had to test his blood for rabies by himself. Of course the butler sternly but kindly explained that he would not let an eleven year old run his own blood test alone, especially for something so serious. Thankfully the tests came back negative. A day later Tim ended up apologizing for being an "inconvenience".

Bruce winced at the memories as he rushed towards the Batplane.

Bruce never saw Tim as an inconvenience, in fact the boy held many titles throughout the older man’s life; Informant, CEO, sidekick, Robin, Red Robin, hero, and most importantly son. The last one the man didn’t use enough, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he said it to his third child. Bruce knew he wasn’t a good father, he was trying to be better and everyday he made small steps to improve. But he wasn’t a good father especially when his children were Robins. He repeatedly broke Dick’s trust, accused Jason of a crime he didn’t commit, fumbled basic lessons with Damian, and Tim...oh Tim.

Tim had been there during the Darkknight’s darkest nights. Then in the day, he helped Bruce at his lowest, and pulled the man from the crater that was Jason’s death. Bruce wasn’t a good man back then either. He had yelled and screamed at a child who only wanted to help him. A child who never let the vile words keep him from getting Bruce up everyday. A child shouldn’t have to take care of an adult, let alone his mentor/father figure. A ch-

“Is he still breathing?” Jason said behind him. The words of his second eldest cleared some of the guilt that clouded the bat’s mind. He needed to focus on the now, not the then.

“Yes,” Batman responded, boarding the plane. The hero swiftly walked into the medical bay, where his eldest stood waiting. A gurney with fresh coverings had been set up in the center of the small room. Dick gasped when Batman got close. The hero ignored the stuttering questions of his eldest as he gently laid the boy down.

“B what? Who is that? W-where’s Tim!?!”

“This is Tim, question later. Prep him for take off, standard rescue medical procedure. I need to to fly us out of here” Batman ordered, laying the small being he was carrying onto the bed.

“What!?!” Dick shouted, staring down at the young boy in horror.

“Questions later, Red Hood assist Nightwing. We are leaving now.”

Jason grabbed Dick by the arms, forcing the man to face him. They shared a look, then the oldest of the two deflated. Before Batman could leave he let himself look at his rescued son’s face once more. His hand pushed the mostly white bangs away from the boy’s closed eyes. He let the tips on his fingers feel the warmth of life before turning to leave.

He had a plane to fly.

He was bringing them home.

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Dick knew the look on Jason’s face. It was the kind of look that said “shut up” and “trust me” at the same time. The certainty in his brother’s eyes pressed Dick’s questions out of the picture. Dick returned a look of “I trust you” and “you're telling me everything later”. Dick deflated as Batman set the small body on the gurney. His father left after taking a brief moment to fix the kids' hair. Dick was tempted to coo at the scene. Batman left the two men to fly the plane.

Jason and Dick quickly strapped down their unconscious guest and prepared for take off. Dick hummed a toon to distract himself till the plane was at a steady altitude. Now the child had Dick’s full attention, he quickly began to check for head or neck injuries. By the time he was done Jason had gathered everything they needed for standard civil medical inspection. He handed his older brother a pen light to check for concussions, before grabbing a pair of scissors to cut open the younger boy's clothes. Not completely cutting the shirt into rags, but enough to expose the chest. Dick gently pulled back the child’s eye lids, thankfully not finding any signs of a concussion. Quietly Dick was happy to not see any glows of green. The older man took a moment to truly look at the boy's face. Dick noticed little details that matched his memories of Tim. The face was becoming more and more familiar. Other than his age, his hair was the most different thing about him. The boy had basically an inverse of Jason’s hair. It was mostly ghost white with a streak of black in the middle. There were some darker patches on deeper layers of the boy’s hair.

After briefly closing his eyes, Nightwing let himself believe it was Tim on the bed. He let himself accept the relief of them finding his brother alive, and pushed everything else way down so he could focus. The whole Lazaros Pit thing he could freak out about later.

“No neck injuries or concussion, how is his chest?” Dick said, turning back to Jason. The other man was gently feeling each of Tim’s ribs. There were angry purple and red bruises blooming on the small figures' abdomen. Thankfully they weren’t very big so hopefully the damage was only skin deep. Dick pressed a stethoscope to the chest, and listened for any signs of damage to the lungs.

“None feel broken, but I bet plenty are bruised. How does he sound?” Jason said, finishing his exam.

“Sounds clear” Dick responded while nodding his head.

Both older brothers were keeping a calm exterior as they worked down the unconscious child’s body. Within them rage and heartbreak burned with each detail discovered. Dick wordlessly focused on Tim’s arms and Jason took to his feet. He didn’t seem to have more than the occasional bruise or scab at first glance. They couldn’t clean most of the blood off yet, that will need to be done at the cave after a more thorough examination. When Dick got to his younger brother’s fingers, he felt all the color drain out of his body.

Oh God

“Jason” Dick whispered, holding the tiny hand in his palm. His thumb curled over the top of it protectively. The other man’s eyes shot up to his older brother’s face, his eyes widened when he saw the now pale complexion.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“H-his fingers...his nails” Dick said in horror.

They hadn’t seen it before because of the blood. At the end of each delicate appendage, where a round nail should be, where shards. The nails, if they were still there, were severely damaged. There were fibers under some of the fingers with bigger sections remaining. Dick’s logical mind put it together that he probably clawed through his binds, but the rest of his body gagged in misery. This child, his younger brother tore through his own nails to escape. The pain of ripping just one would be agonizing, especially to any kid, Dick couldn’t imagine how little Tim powered through it. His eyes blurred with tears at the suffering of such a small being. The suppressed emotions were starting to boil over in his guts.

How could I have let this happen?

A loud bang made Dick flinch and tear his eyes away from the prone form. Jason pulled back a strong fist from a wall. He had left a pretty big dent, which was only made bigger when he punched it again. His eyes were glowing with a sick angry green.

Will Tim’s eyes turn the shade of green when he wakes?

“Fuck! Goddamit!” Red Hood roared. He stomped out of the medbay, leaving Nightwing alone. Dick listened to his brother’s steps and pulled the hand of his other brother closer. He rested his forehead on the back of Tim’s hand. Feeling his warmth as he cried.

“Hurry this fucking plane up old man!” Jason shouted as Dick tried not to fall apart.

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Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was...was feeling something. He refused to label how he felt, it would only cloud his mind to try. He sat in a chair next to Pennyworth, reading a book on rabbits that Grayson had got him last Christmas. The book was incredibly basic, yet he found himself reaching the end of each page without absorbing anything. His cast itched, it became yet another distraction he had to resist.

Thankfully a message from Batman interrupted the silence. Damian perked up listening to the exchange, but didn’t look up from his book. He definitely wasn’t relieved to hear from them. He definitely didn’t release a breath, when he heard that they were returning with their target. And no he wasn’t in denial!

The boy couldn’t keep his eyes on the page though when Pennyworth asked for the status of Drake. Batman's face was stiff as stone, Damian could see his chest rise with a small breath. The boy still struggled to read his father’s emotions when under the mask.

“We have a code: U008080SR. Prep Medbay and blood test for confirmation. Nightwing and Red Hood are examining him now, no sign of major inju-”

“Hurry this fucking plane up old man!” Jason shouted off screen.

“Eta eight minutes,” Batman said, ending the call.

Damian’s mind raced to figure out what his father was telling them.

Unknown magical interference with identification of hero

Damian knew his grandfather had access to more than the Lazarus pit when it came to magic. The old lord had an all encompassing web of power. Despite the Bat families’ attempts, they all knew the shadows of the league stretch further into Gotham than they’d like. Spies followed each of them, but Drake had the most eyes trailing him. It used to make Damian jealous, but now his grandfather’s cruelty made him shamefully grateful to be left more alone. Damian shuddered when the memory of his grandfather’s eyes dragging over Drake in a perverse way. A familiar pain spread through his arm at the memory of that night. Not only did his grandfather disown and beat him, but he took a member...a part of his family.

His cast itched again.

Damian would never be able to sever the blood ties with the League, but he was beginning to cherish his new family. He was happier at the manor, with Father, with everyone. It was Grayson who broke down the wall he formed while growing up in the League, letting Damian slowly embrace the softer things in life. His love for art and animals was celebrated instead of scored. Damian almost cried when he saw a doodle he discarded thoughtlessly, hung on the fridge. Grayson’s morning hug was especially warm that day.

“Well that was a rather ominous answer, Master Damian will you please assist me with preparation” Pennyworth said. His voice was calm as always, but Damian could tell he was nervous by the brisk pace of his walk. Even with his arm bound, Damian was able to assist in gathering supplies. The robotic movements of the task briefly calmed the young Robin's heart. As the noise of the Batplane landing filled the cave, said heart began racing.

Pennyworth pushed the gurney over to the vehicle before the doors were even open. Grayson was first out, walking backwards as he gripped the Batplane’s gurney. The figure on the bed was obscured from view as Todd came out pushing the other end. Father wasn’t far behind keeping his eyes glued to whoever was on the cot. As they lined up to transfer, Damian’s world went quiet. His eyes widened and his breath grew shallow.

That’s not Timothy

The boy on the cot was much too young to be his brother. His hair was wrong, too white to match the raven locks of Damian’s memory. His eyes drifted to the too small boy’s neck, seeing the scar Red Hood left in his rage. They looked like perfect replicas, perhaps magic or cloning could be an answer to the mystery. Damian knew his mouth was open like a fish but he couldn’t seem to find his breath. In his periphery the teen could see Pennyworth freeze for perhaps a millisecond before saying something to Grayson and Todd. As the men wheeled the suspected human away, Damian remained staring at the spot they once held. He tried to rationalize further what he just saw. The growing dread of the realization that Timothy could still be out there, made the young teen’s eyes water.

It was only a gentle but large hand wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him to a stiff warm body, in a half hug that woke Damian from his trance. His lungs remember how to function, he took a much needed deep breath. He looked up at the blurry face of his father looking down at him. The cowl was away revealing a concerned but solemn look. Damian’s breath was too fast as he choked out his next words.

“W-where is Dra-Tim?”

Bruce’s eyes widened, no doubt, in surprise to hear his youngest speak his other son’s first name. He dropped down to one knee and pulled Damian into a full hug. Then he gently guided the boy’s hand to his own chest. Damian could feel the gentle pace of his father breathing and began to hear the gentle whispers from the man.

“In one...two...three, out one...two..three”

His father was trying to get Damian to mimic his breathing. The man repeated the chanting a few more times, tacking on “you're doing great son” and “it's okay chum” to the last repetitions. As Damian regained control over his breaths he realized his face was wet with tears and snot. His father’s suit had a gross wet spot that Damian’s face was way too close to. The young teen pushed away, whipping his face on his sleeve. The ex-assassin would have apologized for such a weak display but he was more concerned about the missing hero.

“Father! I demand you tell me what is going on!” he boasted (weakly).

The man sighed with the loss of the touching moment.

“From what little we were able to gather at the base. That was Tim, Ra's used some sort of magic to make him younger.”

Impossible

“Grandfather used the Pit to keep him young but never that young. This could all be a trick, Drake could be rotting in a cell right now! How can you be so sure that thing on the gurney is not some clone or trap!” Damian yelled with passion. His mind conjured images of Drake bound and suffering.

His father seemed unmoved by the outburst, simply closing his eyes for a moment before staring at his son with certainty.

“Robin. I believe there is a ninety percent chance that the child is a de-aged Red Robin. He has scars that not even Ra would know about, replicating said scars would be highly unlikely.”

“But possible” Robin responded while crossing his arms. Batman pulling out their hero names always meant things were serious.

‘Yes it is possible, but...When I saw him I knew it was Tim. As his mentor, I can recognize my past Robin. As a father, I can recognize my son.”

“Like how you were able to recognize Todd as Red Hood” Damian sneered. He knew it was a mistake to speak as his father’s eyes suddenly burned into him. Damian flinched at the dangerous look, suddenly afraid at how close and larger his father was. Bruce had never hit him, but he still braced for a blow.

“Damian Wayne-Al Gul I know this is a lot to process, but you will not let your emotions lash out in a time of crisis. If you are going to continue this behavior I am ordering you to return to your room” Bruce said sternly.

“A good detective only draws conclusions based on solid evidence, not feelings!” Damian shouted back.

“A good hero to prioritize a civilian's safety. You may not believe it but, even if he is not Tim, that boy is a victim” Bruce replied coldly. He rose to stand, towering over Damian. “If you can’t be a hero right now, go to your room.”

Damian’s cast started to inch again.

The teen curled his hands into fists, well as best you can curl a hand in a cast. He bit down on his lip before he spoke.

“Please let me help father”

Bruce smiled as the boy followed him.

Chapter Text

Alfred Pennyworth presented himself to the public as a humble quiet butle. They would only see him as a servant and shadow to the Wayne bloodline. In truth, however, Alfred was so much more than a simple butler. He was a caretaker, a mentor, and a parent to Bruce Wayne. In the more recent years, Alfred also became a sort of grandfather to the children Bruce Wayne “collected”. He provided love and wisdom to all in the manor, creating bonds as strong as any blood ties. Not that Bruce, nor the children, needed to call him father or grandfather for Alfred to be such. If anything the older man preferred it that way. Keeping the public unaware of the lengths the old butler would go for his family was best. Outsiders tended to ask too many questions. Especially if they knew about the fierce protectiveness Alfred held. The old man was not afraid to pick up a rifle when necessary (though he tried to take nonlethal shots for Bruce’s sake).

When the bats and birds left their cave, the butler adapted his role to support them. On good nights, Alfred found himself acting as a coordinator or get away driver. Keeping a sharp eye and ear on the heroes of Gotham. Making sure all who flew, returned to their roost. On bad nights, Alfred was a medic. While he held no degree in health care, Alfred had stitched together enough wounds to put any surgeon to shame. Though he was not above seeking assistance from Doctor Leslie, a woman whose patience rivaled even the butler and knowledge of the human body par excellence.

You would think with all that wisdom and experience, there was little that could shake Alfred Pennyworth. Well life tended to throw curveballs that no one could predict.

When he first laid eyes on recently rescued Master Tim, he froze. The boy looked far too young to be his third grandson. Alfred quickly collected himself, deciding no matter who the child was he needed to help them. If anything he could be saving his sixth grandchild. For simplicity, he decided to follow the theory that this was Master Tim for now. Few words were exchanged as they transferred the small child to the medical bay. While Master Dick was quite shaken by the situation, he was able to report the results of his prior examination. It was believed that the tiny body belonged to their Master Tim. Master Bruce would have to conduct blood tests and send samples to Miss Zantanna, to cement this claim. After settling the suspected young master in the medical bay, Alfred took the miniable amount of blood needed for the tests. He feared making the slumbering figure’s condition any worse. That meant no medications till they ruled out any drugs possibly in the small boy’s system. Thankfully, samples of the fibers found under the mutilated nails were already taken on the Batplane. Batman arrived moments later looking solemnly at Tim while Alfred handed him the vials of blood. Master Damian had followed him quietly, eyes red no doubt from crying. Batman left to conduct his tests with a firm nod, while Damian moved to stand next to Dick. Alfred felt the warmth of pride at seeing the young master desire to help his brothers, and/or new sibling.

I’m worse than Master Bruce

There was no time to bask in the warmth, but Alfred did allow himself a silent chuckle. Then he pushed that all aside, unfortunately another child needed the butler’s focus.

Alfred quickly took charge, ordering the Dick and Jason to gather water to soak Tim’s bloody hands. Scrubbing the blood from the hands was out of the question, lest make the injuries worse, so soaking was the next best thing. Alfred cared little whose blood it was once he was sure it wasn’t coming from Master Tim.

The boy did what he had to do to survive

When the two younger men left, Alfred asked Master Damian to assist him with removing Master Tim’s clothing. He glanced at the shirt, noticing that the remaining cloth still covered most of Tim's lower abdomen. Particularly where Tim’s butchered splenectomy scar would be. Hesitantly Alfred pulled back the rags to reveal a deep jagged scar. It was a perfect copy of Master Tim’s, the same angry ridges and almost purple valleys.

The old butler felt conflicted. On one hand, this plus a crescent scar on the boy's ankle, cemented that the young bird had truly come home. On the other hand there was no way for Alfred to keep his old promise to said bird.

Around a year ago he had discovered the scar while treating a nasty cut on Red Robins back. The teen broke down, telling the man of the horrid incident with the assassin known as The Widower. It was a gruesome story that left Alfred horrified. He embraced the young master, hushing any attempts Tim made to beg for forgiveness. For Alfred there was nothing for him to forgive, it was Master Tim who was owed an apology. The boy brought Master Bruce back from the “dead” himself, no one had believed him then. Master Tim had gone through so much pain and suffering to return Master Bruce to them. Alfred hated that he wasn’t there to protect his grandson. That he was blinded by grief, and let things rot within the family till the young man felt he alone had to fix things. As a show of trust Alfred agreed to not tell the rest of the family about what had happened. He did tell Tim that he would only inform the others if it was an emergency. After some additional convincing, Tim also agreed to see Doctor Leslie about the impact of such injury. The Doctor was quite cross with the information, especially since Master Tim had held it secret for at least a year. After an intense discussion the Doctor gave strict guidelines for wound care and medication for Tim to take regularly. She agreed to keep things secret, but demanded they update Red Robin’s medical file.

The secret lasting so long was both a testament to how distant Tim had become and how much his family failed him.

Did anyone else in this family ever check the file? When was the last time Red Robin received medical treatment in the cave?

Alfred felt deep shame, Tim was Wayne and his grandson. He had failed the boy as a butler and grandfather.

Something soft gently nudged his arm caused Alfred to snap back into the present.

“Pennyworth?” Master Damian said, pushing the medical gown he grabbed for Tim into Alfred’s arm. Alfred smiled at him and took the gown.

“Thank you Master Damian, is this the smallest you could find?”

“Yes”

Alfred attached electrodes to the bare skin of Tim’s chest, his vitals lit up the monitor nearby. Gentle beeping caused by Tim's heartbeat was almost calming. After making sure the boy was stable, Alfred lifted Master Tim to a sitting position. The boy gave a small groan but stayed unconscious, thankfully. Damian gave the child a wary look.

“Very good, would you please hold Master Tim up as I dress him?”

“We are still not sure this is Drake” Master Damian grumbled as he replaced Alfred hand’s.

It was a quick affair. Master Damian did not question any of Master Tim’s scars, something Alfred wasn’t sure was a good thing but was thankful for all the same. A few minutes after they laid Tim down again, Jason and Dick returned with the tubs of water. Cleaning the young master’s hand took top priority. The longer the blood stayed on the boy the greater the chance of infection. While they needed to remove all the crimson from Master Tim’s appendages, they had to be extra careful with his fingers.

After some direction Jason and Dick place each of Tim’s hands in the water.

And then Tim’s eyes shot open.

And they were glowing green.

Master Dick and Jason jerked back in shock. Tim quickly ripped his hands out of the water and brought them to his sides. The tiny boy pushed himself into a sitting position. The monitor beeped louder with an elevated heart beat, but was quickly silenced by the boy yanking off the electrodes. His glowing eyes swept over the room, then locked onto Master Dick who was the closest. They all stared back at the awakened child, watching as said child brought his knees close to his chest.

“Woah,” Master Jason whispered. He recovered from the surprise first, taking a step towards the boy. As soon as the man’s foot touched the floor, Tim shifted his weight to his forefoot, preparing to bolt. Alfred raised a hand, signalling everyone to stop moving.

“Master Tim?” Alfred asked, trying to get the boy’s attention. Tim’s gaze shifted to Alfred. He was blinking slowly. Alfred searched for any hint of recognition, but found nothing but exhaustion. Beneath the glowing green were dull eyes, the rest of the face null of any emotion.

He isn’t fully present, or perhaps awake...

Alfred concluded the boy was probably acting on instinct alone, in a haze of confusion. His heart ached. The sight of a younger Tim pulled memories of a coffee addicted Robin swirling in his mind. It was concerning to Alfred now, how many of his memories featured a tired Master Tim. Tim was tired all the time, always using unhealthy amounts of coffee to fight off weariness. Alfred would like to think he at least tried to limit the boy’s caffeine intake. But Alfred, like the rest of the family, ignored the warning signs that something was wrong. They let the child solve their problems in the shadows and didn’t reach back to lead him to the light. It was easier that way and it disgusted the old man.

While Alfred doubted the boy would understand him, he decided to try and deescalate the situation.

“Hello little one, let’s take a breath before w-”

And then Batman entered the room.

Alfred sighed knowing things were about to fall into chaos. Master Tim launched himself towards the far end of the gurney, diving towards a small cart with medical supplies. Damian squawked at the other men to grab him. The boy knocked the cart over as he landed, scattering the various tools and things across the room. Tim rolled away from the others, grabbing one of the tools on his way to the far corner of the room. He tried to stand but immediately collapsed, his right ankle failed him. Tim stared at the appendage, then scooted on his butt the rest of the way into the corner. He then kneeled on his right knee and brought his weapon up into a defensive stance.

A pair of scissors was pointed out to the others in the room.

“Restrain him now. Alfred prepare a sedative” Batman ordered, taking control.

“Shit” Jason cursed, rushing after the boy, Dick right behind him.

They both halted when they heard the snap of plastic. Tim had broken the pivot of the scissors, separating the blades. He held one in each hand like makeshift daggers.

“Great, now he is awake and armed” Damian chided

“I assume Master Bruce, that you already ran a toxin screening on the blood. Nothing that would react badly with standard procedure, I hope?” Alfred asked while preparing a syringe. Though the situation had escalated, having Batman present did help calm him.

“Clean”

“Very good sir”

Batman threw a Bat-a-rang which was reflected by the boy’s blades and sent skidding across the room. It was only a distraction though, a brief one, but it gave enough time for Dick and Jason to grab the boy’s arms. The impact caused the one blade to fly out of Tim’s hand and clatter to the floor a few feet away. Alfred watched as the two men attempted to wrench the remaining blade from the child. The boy clearly had abnormal strength and was giving them a hard time. It was another piece of evidence suggesting the boy was exposed to the Lazarus Pit.

“Please Tim it’s us! It’s Dick and Jason, we're not trying to hurt you!” Dick begged.

“It's no use, he is too deep in the green. Nothing you say will reach him” Jason said, speaking from past experience no doubt.

Through all this Master Tim's face remained unchanged. Even when he struggled against the two grown men pinning him.

Once the other blade hit the ground Alfred and Batman began to approach. Master Jason kept Tim’s left arm straight out in front of him, while Master Dick tried to hold the boy's right arm against the wall. Suddenly Tim whipped his head towards Dick’s arm and bit down like an animal. But his small teeth could not pierce the Kevlar of the Nightwing suit.

“I'm glad I'm wearing my suit right now” He grimaced. He weakly smiled as the boy released his bite, only to wince and Tim tried to bite Jason.

“Nope, I’m armored up too Baby-Bird. Alfred, we could really use that sedative about now!”

Alfred let out a huff then quickly disinfected a small spot on the boy’s arm held steady by Master Bruce. Afterwards, Damian wordlessly handed Alfred the sedative. At the sight of the needle, Tim switched tactics. The boy tried to claw at the hands holding him. He seemed unbothered by the injuries on his finger tips, leaving small red streaks on the gloves he could barely reach.

“Jesus Tim stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Dick cried, no doubt hating having his younger brother’s blood on his clothes. Tim only responded by biting into the Kevlar on Dick’s arms again...

Finally Alfred was able to inject the sedative, bringing an end to all the madness.

Chapter Text

Bruce watched Alfred bandage the injection site. As the chemical spread through Tim's bloodstream, his struggles became weaker. Of course he resisted longer than any normal boy his age could, they had The Pit to thank for that. Jason and Dick sank to their knees when Tim’s arms went limp. Jason then pulled Tim close, resting most of the boy’s form on his lap. Tim's jaw remained locked shut, teeth still latched on to Nightwing’s suit. Dick had to keep close and hold his arm awkwardly to avoid straining Tim’s neck.

Bruce lowered himself down before his crying sons. He decided to take a moment to simply look at them all. Jason was shaking, no doubt drained from his previous dissociative episode. He was looking down at the boy in his lap with a neutral expression. Dick was also shaking, his eyes incapable of shedding anymore tears after crying so much. That didn’t stop little gasps and sobs escaping from his mouth. Bruce’s racing heart ached as Dick looked up at him. His first Robin looked lost and hopeless, just like the night his family died. Bruce rested a hand on his eldest head, he wanted to reassure him but couldn’t find the words. He thought of what his therapist told him last session.

Sometimes you don’t need words, just be with them

Bruce must have done something right since Dick looked a little less distressed at the action. After removing his hand, Bruce shifted towards Tim. Tim had been redressed in a gown, the cloth looking more like a blanket than clothing. Tim looked deep in sleep, relaxed even, well if you didn’t count he was still firmly biting into Dick’s arm. Bruce decided that the next best course of action was to get Tim off of Dick.

With gentle hands, Bruce massaged Tim’s jaw until he released the arm. Dick looked grateful, almost smiling, but then frowned and curled up. He wasn’t hurt, but he was very overwhelmed. Damian thankfully approached and sat next to him. He rested his head on his older brother’s shoulder. Dick shifted to lean his head on top of Damian's in return, shutting his eyes.

“Thanks Baby Bat” he mumbled, relaxing in Damian’s warmth. Damian had a way of calming Dick down just by his presence alone.

Bruce felt a swell of pride, making a mental note to praise Damian later.

Bruce turned his attention back to his other two sons. Jason surprised his father by holding out Tim towards him. Bruce had expected at least some resistance, it only spoke to his second son’s exhaustion that he handed over Tim without a fight. After glancing at Alfred, Bruce took Tim back to the gurney.

“I think it would be wise for you three to turn in for the night. Thank you for your assistance, but Master Bruce and I will be able to handle the rest of Master Tim examinations” Alfred said, joining Batman’s side.

Dick opened his mouth to argue only for Damian to cut him off.

“Come Grayson, you’ve been in your suit for too long. It’s starting to smell” Damian grumbled, pulling Dick up from the ground. With some pushing and pulling Damian was able to get Dick to leave with him.

“Keep me updated” Dick squeaked when they reached the doorway.

“We will reconvene in the morning” Batman responded, watching them go.

Jason silently held a mini staring contest with Alfred before getting up to leave.

“Did you find it?” Jason asked, pausing before the doorway.

Bruce knew right away what he was asking for.

“His blood showed signs of exposure to The Lazarus Pit” Batman responded.

Jason left without another word.

After briefly cleaning up the medbay. Alfred and Bruce found themselves on different sides of the gurney. A sleeping boy between them. Bruce could tell Alfred was preparing to tell him something...bad. The old butler had a habit of letting his eyelids fall half mast before blinking them open, when he was finding the words to share something unpleasant. A little quirk Bruce doubted the butler was even aware of.

“Master Bruce” Alfred paused, “there is something I must tell you. Please know I have only kept this secret on Master Tim’s behalf. I know you are aware of Master Tim’s time with the League of Shadows, but you are unaware of all that happened then. I am too. But Master Tim did share one thing, not of his free will mind you, to me. And I can no longer keep it from you.”

Bruce felt all the hairs on his body stiffen, he tightened his muscles as if preparing for a blow. Alfred's tone and general caginess was like an omen of doom. Bruce knew whatever the butler was about to share was major, possibly earth-shaking. Bruce looked down at his, believed to be, de-aged son. A new ball of fear pressed on his heart, what more could have possibly happened to his boy? What more had the League of Shadows done to him. They didn’t even know how Ra's al Guul changed Tim in the first place!

“Alfred what happened? What did Ra's do to my boy?” Bruce whispered, resting a hand on Tim’s crown.

“Master Tim was injured severely when he was searching for you, when you were presumed... dead. The injury almost cost the young master his life. It was not inflicted by the hands of that wretched man, though. From what I have been told it was an assassin known as The Widower. The Widower killed two of Master Tim’s comrades at the time, seriously injured another, and “gutted” Master Tim himself. He barely survived, Ra's had his men perform emergency surgery to save him.” Alfred's calm voice switched to one of hatred. “They had to remove his spleen. Whoever operated on Master Tim was by no means a professional, they butchered the area. The scar they left on the boy was horrendous.” Alfred took a noticeable breath, then continued. “He was left immunocompromised, and I suspect suffered from chronic pain as well. Doctor Lesli is aware of his condition, but I fear the boy might not have been always following her recommendations.”

Bruce had listened with his mouth a gape, trying not to lose himself in the horror of it all.

He first recognized the anger inside of himself. He knew he was furious with Ra's and himself, but he also acknowledged he was upset with Alfred and Tim. He tried not to feel betrayed by the last two not telling him what happened, but it was difficult. Again he tried to call upon sessions with his therapist, clenching and unclenching his hands to quell his fury enough to work through his other predominant feeling, misery. Or perhaps he would call it grief. A cold pain that ate at his stomach and gathered tears in his eyes. His mind provided unhelpful images of Tim bleeding from such a horrible wound. He tried to steady his breath, but he knew he couldn’t calm down till he saw the scar. He needed to see the damage to finish processing, to move on.

Bruce pulled back the gown.

And saw it

And let the tears fall from his eyes. It was huge, starting just below his left rib and running diagonally downward to just below the belly button. The mark was about a centimeter wide with jagged ridges, probably caused by sloppy stitching. Most of the scar was pink that transitioned to red then almost purple at deepest sections. Bruce would never call any part of his childrens’ body ugly, scars were nothing to be ashamed of. They were proof of survival. But it would have been disturbing to see this scar on his son as an adult, and as a child it nearly broke him. Terror came from knowing the child went through something so horrible.

“Alfred” he sobbed, “How could you keep this from me?”

Bruce was fully crying now, tears dripping down his chin. Little drops of sadness landed on Tim’s gown. Water gathered in Alfred's eyes as well. The old butler pulled out a handkerchief and brought it to his own son’s face.

“I cannot ask for you to even begin to forgive me Master Bruce. But I thought keeping the secret was the only way to keep Master Tim safe. He would have run and never let anyone help him if pressed too hard. He barely agreed to see Doctor Leslie, and even then she had to force him to put it on his medical file. I’m so sorry my boy.”

Alfred let a few drops leave his eyes. It wasn’t clear who started the hug after that. Both men held each other through the agony of it all.

After some apologies, reflection, and more tears the pair released each other. There was still a stranger's blood on Tim’s hands to take care of.

Alfred attached a catheter to Tim’s arm. He set up an IV to slowly release sedatives as they worked. It also helped restore some of the boy's fluids, he was no doubt suffering dehydration after captivity. The butler and the bat next moved to the boy’s hands. They began gently washing the blood off the tiny fingers, being extra careful of the boy’s fingernails. Bruce relayed the results of the various tests he ran with Tim’s blood to Alfred as they worked. The DNA matched Tim’s records and showed no sign of mutation. No technology on earth was able to produce clones without some sort of change to the DNA, so this ruled out the tiny Tim on the table being a clone. Next there were heavy signs of magical exposure, likely caused by subjection to the Lazarus Pit. Magic was not something well studied by those without the gift, so Bruce had sent out samples to Zatanna. It was unclear when they’d get results back unfortunately. The last test was a standard blood lab, one that would check vitamin levels, cell counts, etc. The boy had probably been fed enough to keep all his levels normal, except for one thing. His white blood cell count was high, which was probably the result of the boy’s missing organ and infection.

Once Tim’s hands were clean they did discover some small cuts on the appendage probably from the boy's initial escape. They bandage Tim’s fingers, it would take at least four months for the nails to grow back. Thankfully the nail beds should heal after ten days. Till then it was best if Tim didn’t use his fingers for anything or risk opening the wounds.

After Alfred checked to make sure the sedative was still working, he added antibiotics to the boy IV. Hopefully that and remaining magic from The Pit would keep Tim from developing a serious infection. The next step was to x-ray the boy, but both men seemed hesitant. They both knew they were sharing the same thought.

Should we tie the boy down?

Neither of them wanted to do it. Medical cuffs were usually a last resort, many of the birds and bats had bad reactions to waking up bound. Also Tim had just been free from imprisonment, fighting so hard that he ripped out his own finger nails.

“Master Bruce” Alfred broke the silence. He was only holding medical cuffs, but the elder man’s face looked like he had just committed murder.

Bruce had the same guilt, but knew they couldn’t risk Tim hurting someone if he woke up during the screening process. With a heavy sigh he nodded to Alfred.

Solemnly they bound Tim’s arms and legs with medical cuffs.

Its for his and ours safety

The process was not helped by how small Tim was, each pull of a strap felt almost sacrilegious.

Its for his and ours safety

Bruce grabbed his patented Wayne tech mini x ray machine. He tried not to look at the binds they applied, as he took the x-rays.

Its for Tim’s safety

Alfred wanted to do some imaging of Tim’s internal organs to confirm he was missing a spleen and nothing else. Bruce was glad he started a branch in Wayne industries for more portable medical technology. While Alfred took imaging, Bruce examined the x-ray’s. He could see the missing shadow of where Tim’s spleen was supposed to be, but would have to wait for the imaging for more details. Thankful Tim’s ribs were not broken, just bruised as they thought. After seeing Tim’s right ankle fail Bruce knew he’d find something there. They were lucky it was only a hairline fracture and not a whole break. Especially since Tim had jumped and fought on it. It would take at least eight weeks to heal. Alfred, having finished his task, came to see the result of the x-ray.

“Oh dear, while I believe we have a boot that could fit him, we will need to order crutches for Master Tim. I’m afraid we don’t have one small enough” Alfred noted. “It also appears that this Tim has no baby or wisdom teeth. Judging by his age, he should have at least one or two remaining. Jason had similar dental patterns. It appears The Pit cannot return what has been removed completely.”

After a solemn pause Alfred presented the results of the imaging.

The images of his son's abdomen showed Tim was only missing his spleen. They were able to overlay an image taken of adult Tim’s body with the younger. The scar tissue matched up, the only difference was the young body was smaller. Bruce’s imagination became his enemy. He could see his son bleeding alone in pain. An older Tim wrapping his arm around his stomach trying to keep himself together. Another Robin dying knowing Batman wouldn’t save him. Batman failed to protect his Robin, Bruce failed to protect his children. His son almost died and he had no idea any of it happened.

This made Bruce’s stomach turn. It was only made worse by the sharp claws of guilt threatening to rip through his gut. Tim saved him so many times. His son would do anything for the family, except trust them with his weaknesses. Did Tim not trust them? Well why should he, how many of his brothers tried to kill him? How many times did family time turn into a fight? How many times had Bruce let his third Robin walk back to Drake Manor hurt and alone?

Bruce’s hands were shaking, he ripped his eyes back to the boy on the gurney. Bruce shambled over to his son, he needed to see him alive. He watched the small boy’s gentle breath slip through parted lips. This wasn’t enough, Bruce needed to feel his pulse. When he brought his finger to the boy’s neck, he felt the ridge of Tim’s neck scar. Thankfully he also felt the gentle beat of the boy’s heart. He removed the cuffs, no longer able to look at his child bound. Alfred didn’t comment on the action, he only adjust the IV and check the sedatives were still dripping through.

After some somber silence, Alfred finally spoke up.

“Master Bruce, I believe it is time for you to get some sleep. We both know you have gotten less than usual these past weeks. I will preside over Tim for the rest of the night.”

“Alfred”

“You may return after four hours of sleep, Master Bruce.”

Alfred pulled Bruce away and gave him a firm pat on the arm.

“Three” Bruce countered not fighting as the older man guided him to the door.

“Four, Master Bruce.”

“Three and a half?” Bruce smiled leaving the medical bay. Alfred sighed and returned the smile.

“Three and a half. Not a minute sooner!”

Alfred closed the door in his face. Bruce knew better than fighting his orders.

On his slow trudging into the manor, Bruce started to feel how uncomfortable his suit had become. It smelled and had been on for much too long. Bruce started looking forward to a shower and bed. But first he needed to check on his other sons.

He approached his eldest son’s door first. Turning the knob as silent as a bat, he peeked into the room. Dick on his side holding Damian close in sleep. The first Robin had changed into his favorite sleeping clothes, a thick grey Bludhaven hoodie and silky smooth Nightwing theme sweatpants. Damian had gotten them for Dick, last Christmas.

Speaking of Damian, he was awake. He was probably awoken by Bruce opening the door. He wore a simple T-shirt and Robin themed boxers. He was definitely trying not to over heat in his clingy brother’s arms. Bruce gave Damian a small nod and closed the door. Bruce then passed Jason’s childhood room, wishing its owner had returned to it. The Bat’s disappointment was short when he heard snoring from a guest room.

Jason had stayed.

With a small ball of love in his heart, Bruce decided to let himself rest.

His boys were home.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason's eyes ripped open. They flew around the room looking for clues to where he was. He saw pale blue sheets and a mahagan wood side table. He concluded he was at the manor, in one of the guest rooms. When his brain got the message he was safe, his lungs allowed air to enter them. Like a mantra he repeated “guest room, guest room, I’m at the manor,” to himself as he raised to a sitting position.

He felt wound up, he knew his eyes were glowing. After a few deep breaths he took stock of himself. He had slept for four hours, not much for most but for a Bat it was functional. He had aches in his neck and back, nothing new. These he could deal with later with some stretches. He first had to make sure he had a grip on The Pit though.

He thought back to his two best friends, Kori and Roy, and what they taught him. They had helped him learn how to deal with the side effects of The Pit months after his resurrection. When Jason first emerged from the cursed waters he was barely human. His brain and body was so overwhelmed by raising coming back to life, only instincts to survive could make it through. He became a primal beast, a cornered animal. Jason had no idea when his consciousness finally broke through, Talia never told him. He heard whispers from other league of shadows members that it took over a dozen men to restrain him. Losing time, Losing self? That was almost as traumatic as dying in the first place. The man prayed things wouldn’t go down the same way for the kid downstairs.

He refocused and pushed his anger into deep breathing and tensing then releasing his muscles. He had to pull himself out of the water that was his rage. Usually your body would warn you to swim up for air, burning your lungs screaming to breathe. Jason knew he needed air when his eyes glowed. He knew he was drowning when he could feel Tim’s blood on his hands. Jason slowly worked to the surface trying to pull himself up out of the green waters and into peace.

Ten minutes later his eyes stopped glowing. He was out of the water, once again grateful his friends showed him how to swim.

Probably should have text at least one of them after Tim was taken

Jason shook his shoulders and patted his cheeks. He knew he should look at his phone, but God he did not want to. With a loud sigh he flicked it on for the first time in three weeks. As expected Roy sent him well over fifty messages, he did not expect to see no new message from Kori though.

Jason felt his heart race!
Only to calm when he remembered she was off world. She’d be among the stars for another month, Jason counted himself lucky. Dealing with an angry but loving Kori was embarrassing enough, combined with a pissed but protective Roy was unbearable. He was shocked that Roy hadn’t hunted him down within these past few weeks. L

ike a child facing a parent after being naughty, Jason opened Roy’s earliest messages with a wince.

R: Yo J, you good?

R: u missed our check in

R: you better not be dead

Jason scrolled to some later messages.

R: come on Jay it’s been a week

R: starting to worry me

R: don’t make me talk to the bats. you know how annoying they can be

R: Bro don’t make me message Dick

R: Dickwing didn’t tell me shit, Oracle said you're alive at least. look at your phone asshole

R: did you break it?

R:I’ll be fucking pissed if you got a new phone and didn’t tell me

Jason pushed himself to check the last week of messages.

R: You are so lucky Lian has the flu or else I’d find you

R: Come on man what is going on

R: Your really starting to scare me

R: Jason Peter Todd

Jason found it particularly ominous that the last message was his full name. He was so screwed.

J: I’m alive

R: You hurt?

J: No. Hows Lian?

R: Napping. The only reason I’m not calling you're ass

J: I’m sorry, things have been not great. I didn’t mean to ignore you

R: Elaborate

J: Later, I gotta check on something

R: Jason

J: I promise I’ll come to your place after and talk. I just want to check on Tim before I leave

R: Wait what happened to Tim?

J: Later

Jason muted his phone, Roy was gonna kill him for that.

After showering and dressing himself into the spare set of clothes. Alfred always kept a spare set of comfy clothes, conveniently in Jason’s size, in each guest room. Jason always appreciated Alfred being so considerate of him. Bruce and Dick never understood why the vigilante refused to sleep in his childhood bedroom. They would always see it as the second Robin’s room, unfortunately Jason wasn’t that little boy anymore.

After a few stretches he headed for the cave. When he passed Dick’s room he pressed an ear to the door, relieved to hear him still sleeping. Jason felt just put together enough to check on Tim, he wasn’t sure if he could deal with the rest of his brother’s antics too. He was still pretty goddamn tired.

Jason crossed paths with Alfred, who was also heading to the medical bay. The butler was carrying a large pot of coffee and a tray. The tray held a few mugs, sugar, and various creamers, everything a coffee drinker could ask for.

“Let me help with that, Alfie,” he said, taking the pot from the butler. The older man smiled at him then muffled a rare tiny yawn. Alfred had not been able to sleep much since Tim was taken, he clearly didn’t make up any of his sleep debt. He was also wearing the same suit he wore last night, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons undone. Seeing Alfred so disheveled was a bit unnerving to Jason.

“Thank you Master Jason and good morning. I hope you were able to get some sleep since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, some...”

There was an awkward pause, Alfred raised an eyebrow at Jason. The younger man only shrugged and followed the butler into the cave. Upon entering the medbay Jason let out a loud groan.

Bruce was there of course.

Bruce sat in a chair next to Tim’s gurney, wearing a white robe he no doubt slept in. The bat gave Jason a wry smile, which Jason returned with another groan. Jason didn't want to deal with his emotionally constipated father right now. Well he never wanted to, but especially today.

“I suspected you would both like a strong cup of coffee this morning” Alfred said, pouring cups for the two other men. They both responded at the same time.

“Yeah, thanks Alfie”

“Thank you, Alfred”

Jason glared at his adoptive father, then took a seat on the opposite side of the gurney. They sat in silence till Alfred brought them coffee and then the two men thanked the butler at the same time, again.

The coffee was warm in Jason’s hands, it was grounding. Alfred, of course, had already mixed the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Many years serving the Waynes, Alfred had all their preferred ratios memorized.

Jason took a sip then looked at the sleeping child covered in blankets. Tim remained unchanged from last night. He was still too young, still too small. It was disturbing to the mercenary how white the child's hair truly was. Jason had gained a stripe of white in his hair after The Pit. It was impossible to dye for long periods of time. The Pit no doubt caused it to fade faster than normal.

What did they do to you baby bird?

Did Tim’s heart stop like Jason? Did he feel the painful jerk of a still organ beating back to life?

Jason grabbed the boy’s hand, moving his fingers to feel the tiny pulse.

“Can I trust you three to be alone? I would like a moment to freshen up. While I’m no longer actively sedating Master Tim, he should remain docile for the next few hours.”

The other two men promised to behave.

With a long calculated look Alfred left the Medical bay. An awkward silence blanketed the room. While Jason wished he could just ignore Bruce forever, he wanted to know the status of his brother.

“How is he?” Jason asked, lifting his eyes to Bruce. The other man listed the injuries they discovered after Jason left. Thankfully nothing life threatening, but still enraging to Jason. It took all of his will power not to clench his fists. He didn’t want to crush the sleeping boy’s hand in his own. Bruce must have seen Jason’s distress and kept the rest of the details vague.

“So what now? How do we fix this? What are you going to do?” Jason said looking Bruce dead in the eyes.

“I sent samples to Zantanna to analyze the magic content. Barabra is still shifting through the League Files, they are pretty heavily encrypted so it may take some time. I’m pla-”

A tiny faint hum silenced Bruce. Both men jerked their eyes to the source.

“Cfff” mumbled the little boy, his face scrunching up a bit.

“Tim?” Bruce asked breathlessly.

The boy let out another hum then mumbled something else. “Offe?” It wasn’t a complete word but the tone suggested the boy was asking for something.

“What is he saying?” Jason questioned leaning in to hear Tim better.

“I-I need” Tim slurred clearly not awake.

“I’m not sure. Tim, what is it son? Do you need something?”

“Coffee” the child said with a smile.

Chapter Text

Bruce locked eyes with Jason, a mental battle formed between the two not to laugh first. It only lasted a few seconds. A true test of who could hold a better poker face.

Jason was the first to crack. He giggled like a school girl, as Bruce covered his mouth joining his son.

“Jesus Baby Bird,” Jason gasped between laughs.

“Okay, this is for sure our Timmy,” Bruce said. He was trying not to chuckle too hard, the little boy in front of him was still waking up. Bruce drew upon all his years as Batman to get a hold of himself. While his eyes were still watering, he smiled silently at his son.

Tim's face pinched a bit, a pouty frown forming on his face. Little lids pulled back revealing only a sliver of bright blue eyes. Both men felt immense relief, they were grateful those eyes were not green.

The little boy turned his head towards Bruce. The man cleared his throat, returning the boy's gaze with a gentle smile. He couldn’t resist brushing his fingers over Tim’s open palm. He recognized the sleepy face, thinking back to a Robin who always stayed up much too late. It gave him a pang of guilt in his gut. Tim rivaled Bruce’s stubbornness, there were many nights where he’d insist on staying awake much past the limits Bruce had for his other Robins. Batman let his third Robin work himself to the bone with little argument, it was horrifyingly irresponsible in hindsight. How many times had Bruce found Tim sleeping in the cave? The bangs under his eyes grow darker each night, haunting highlighted by the glow of the monitor screen.

“Hey chum, how are you doing?” Bruce said, trying not to get lost in his guilty memories.

“Tired...sleepy” Tim responded, voice soft from slumber. “Can I have some coffee, please?”

Jason groaned, shaking his head in disapproval.

“No son, you can’t have coffee right now”

“And hopefully not later either” Jason mumbled under his breath. Bruce doubted Alfred would let the young boy have any caffeine. But then again Tim restlessness was quite a force to be reckoned with.

The small whine released by the boy in response nearly made Bruce fold.

“But I’m so tired,” he whispered.

“Tim...” Bruce started.

I am already so weak to him

Jason glared at his father, screaming “don’t give up already old man” with his eyes.

“My parents are okay with it” Tim added.

Oh

Tim’s parents had been dead for years. Janet and Jack Drake were taken hostage while on their last expedition. By the time the heroes were able to find them, Janet had died. She was poisoned by their captor. Jack had lived but suffered serious injuries. The man fell into a deep coma, one with little chance of recovery. Tim was devastated, he was still only a teenager and his world had crumbled around him. While mourning the loss of his mother, Tim became responsible for Jack's health. Bruce had taken him in and awkwardly tried to support him. He didn’t want to over step and act as the boy’s father since his blood father was alive. When Jack had awakened, Tim was only able to spend a few weeks with him before the man too died. Jack Drake was killed by a villain known as Captain Boomerrang. It was all too much, Tim fell into a dangerous spiral. He wanted vengeance, retribution. Batman was able to stop his sidekick from killing in revenge, harshly telling him that if he committed murder, he’d lose the Robin mantle. Instead of talking the orphan teen down or comforting him, Batman had basically threated the third Robin into compliance. Something broke between them that night. The look of betrayal Tim gave him that night was burned into Bruce’s mind. Later Bruce adopted Tim, told his son they’d always be family. Even when they returned to being crime fighting partners, the trust between the two was never the same. Bruce, of course, chose to ignore it, hoping things would settle with time. He tended to do that with a lot of things he probably shouldn’t.

Note to self, bring that up next therapy session

Jason caught Bruce’s eyes again, they shared another look. They both were thinking the same thing: this Tim might not have current Tim’s memories. Bruce needed to talk to the child more before drawing any conclusions. Also Tim was still under the influences of the sedatives, he could be simply confused. Jason titled his head to Bruce, indicating that the other man should take the lead.

“Sorry chum, the answer is still no. Say Tim, do you know who I am?”

Tim frowned trying to fight sleep, but was clearly failing.

“Mr. Wayne?” Tim answered, eyes falling closed.

Another point towards the boy not having all his memories. Older Tim would never call Bruce that unless he was teasing. It was only two months into the third Robin’s training that he dared to refer to the man as Bruce. This did not bode well.

“Am I dreaming?” Tim whispered, cracking his eyes open again.

“No, you're at the manor. You’re safe Tim”

A smile filled with soft joy stretched across Tim’s face before he next spoke.

“I knew it, I knew Batman,” The boy’s eyes peaked at Jason, “and Robin would save me. I told Lord Ra's, you’d save me. Please don’t be a dream.”

Bruce saw his older son freeze. No one had called Jason Robin in the cave for a long time. Bruce braced for a negative reaction as Tim let out a truly adorable yawn.

“You’re okay Baby Bird, we rescued you. You are not at the League anymore” Jason said, taking the child’s hand.

“Promise you're real?”

“Yeah, I promise kid”

The larger hand squeezed the smaller gently.

“I’m so tired”

“You can sleep, kid”

Tim’s eyes closed again with a frown.

“Don’t wanna sleep” The boy begged, almost completely lost to slumber. “ Don’t wanna....wake up...alone.”

“I promise we will be here when you wake up” Bruce said warmly.

Jason flinched at the words. Bruce looked at his older son confused, Jason's face was blank and Bruce was clueless.

Tim hummed before his body relaxed, distracting Bruce from seeing green creeping into Jason’s eyes. The young boy’s breathing fell into a slow pattern, he was back into a deep slumber. When Bruce looked back to Jason, he was met with a face of deep anger. Jason to his credit was holding back the green, Bruce tried to not tense in response. Jason pointed his right index finger towards Bruce, then himself, and then pointed with his thumb to the door. Bruce raised an eyebrow, he had no idea what was making his second son mad. Jason only gestured to the door again and got up. Bruce followed in silence, he left the door open as they left the medbay. He wasn’t ready to leave Tim by himself, especially after he promised the boy he wouldn’t wake up alone.

Jason rounded and threw his hands into the air.

“What the fuck old man” he whispered in frustration.

“What?”

Bruce was still unaware and it was only making Jason angrier.

“You always do this, you always assume. You promised the kid we’d both be here. I need to leave, asshole.” Jason was barely able to keep his voice a whisper.

“Jaylad, you can stay here. You don’t need to leave” Bruce tried to comfort.

“Don’t Jaylad me, Bruce. I decided that for myself. I need to go, I need to call Roy. I need to process these past few weeks, I need to clear my head.”

“Jason, you can do that here. We can support the both of yo-”

“You don’t get it Bruce! You’ve never got it, and you don’t know how to support me! When I came back, I did terrible things! I hurt Tim, bad and you still welcomed me back. You hardly reprimanded me! I’m responsible for my own actions, but you forgave me for yourself. Not for my sake and certainly not for Tim. Roy doesn’t let me slide, Kori guides me. You just ignore, and pretend I’m the same little kid you let die! Well unless I kill someone, then I’m a criminal.” Jason was far from whispering now, but even through his emotions he was clearly trying to keep his volume under control. Bruce couldn’t come up with a response, so Jason kept going. “But that’s not the point. I am a criminal and that’s fine. I am getting better in some ways, but I’ve still got a lot to atone for. Part of that, getting better, is knowing my limits, knowing when to pull back. To take stock and get the Pit under control. I can’t do that right now, not here. But now I feel like I can’t leave!”

“Jason I didn’t know”

“Of course you didn’t, of course. Listen Bruce, if that kid wakes up and I’m not there what will he think?”

Bruce was in a swirl of loss and shock. He never wanted to trap Jason, he just didn’t think.

And that was the problem

Jason clearly saw Bruce’s turmoil on his face. The younger man signed and covered his eyes with his palms.

“Goddammit. Okay. Bruce I gotta go, I need to calm down. You better think of something to say to the kid while I’m gone.”

Jason let his arms drop and turned to leave. Bruce felt like needed to say something, he couldn’t leave things like this! If he could just explain.

Wait

Bruce pulled himself back, he knew that whatever he wanted to do or say in the moment would just make things worse. Jason was right, about a lot of things. Bruce needed to let him go. Whatever he said next needed to release the crushing pressure he put on his son.

“I’m sorry” Bruce said, a little bit of his guilt leaking into his voice. “I’ll make sure he knows you didn’t abandon him. I should have not assumed.”

Jason's shoulders relaxed a bit. Bruce took that as a sign he said something right.

“Good, you better. I will come back, I just need some time. And Bruce?”

Jason looked back at his father.

“Yes?”

“I will kick your ass if you make that kid cry”

A ghost of a smile formed on Jason's lips.

Bruce returned it.

“Sounds good, bye son”

Instead of waving, Jason simply flipped Bruce off and walked out of the cave.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim tried to open his eyes. He remembered Lord Ra's did not like him sleeping in. He didn’t want to be punished, again. Last time the elder found him sleeping during unauthorized hours, he had ordered to carry buckets of rocks wherever he went that day. If Tim ever dropped the buckets or let them touch the ground without permission, the closest League member would slap him. If the boy responded with tears or any kind of sound, they would hit him again. His cheeks were swollen and red by the end of the day. His arms hurt a whole lot more.

Tim felt his skin pulled as he tensed his face muscles. His mind was not fully connected to his body, but he was starting to feel more of it. His fingers tingled as he tried to wiggle them. Since waking up was a battle, the boy concluded he was drugged. It wouldn’t be the first time. Tim found himself frequently sedated during his imprisonment in the League of Shadows. He had no idea what the specificity was used on him, but usually he was left with gaps in his memories, with occasional flashes of green violence. Tim felt like he was trapped for five days, but he didn’t put much faith in his guess.

He felt something soft and warm encompassing one of his hands. It jerked when Tim wiggled his fingers again, then tightened around the appendage. It wasn’t painful, it was strong and oddly comforting.

He realized someone was holding one of his hands with their own.

Tim struggled once again, he needed to open his eyes. He needed to be awake or he’d be punished!

A whimper escaped his lips as he fought.

“Shhh, you're okay Tim. It’s okay” a gentle voice filled his ears. It was nothing like the harsh tones and yelling he usually awoke to. It was...familiar. “You're safe. Are you ready to wake up?”

Yes, the boy very much wanted to wake up. He just needed to get his eyes open!

Tim turned his head to the left, then right, trying to literally shake off the lingering sleepiness. Someone chuckled at him, it was deep and kind. It made Tim smile with a slight blush.After a few more minutes, Tim found the power to peel his eyes open.

It was bright! Too bright!

Tim quickly shut his eyes with a hiss of pain. The agony of the sudden visual stimulation bounced around in his head miserably. He heard a chair scraping and some footsteps, he briefly wondered if the unknown person was leaving. He prayed that whoever they were, they were not getting Ra’s. Thankfully, the light dimmed, Tim dared to open his lids again. He was able to put a face to the voice lulling him out of sleep. It was a large man with dark hair and squared shoulders. A man who held all of Gotham on those shoulders. A man who protected her streets in the dark of night.

It was Batman, or well Bruce Wayne.

He wasn’t wearing his cowl at the moment so Tim knew he could only call him Bruce Wayne..

“Mr. Wayne?” Tim rasped. Tears formed in the boy's eyes, not of sadness, but of relief (and some happiness). He had been saved, he wasn’t at the League any more. But more importantly...“It wasn’t a dream,” Tim beamed.

Wait

Oh no

It wasn’t a dream

He had called Mr. Wayne Batman, he knew Tim knew their identities! Panic consumed the brief joy the boy felt. He was afraid the other man would be mad at him. He was a child who knew the hero's identity, Mr. Wayne may have to silence him. He wouldn’t kill him or anything, but he might lock Tim up or wipe his memories. Or at least these were some of the thoughts running through Tim’s mind. Tim jerked into a sitting position, which was a huge mistake.

Pain radiated through his entire form. His ribs felt like they were beaten with a hammer. His right ankle ached furiously, it was only made worse by a pins and needles sensation upon trying to move it. When he gripped the blanket around him in reflex, only for a whole new agony ripped through each finger. He let out a little scream, Mr. Wayne rushed to his side, steadying him with a large hand on his back.

“Woah, Tim slow down” the man gasped.

Each breath hurt, he felt like his bones were collapsing on his organs. Tim couldn’t let this hold him back, he needed to say something.

“Tim, Chum, you need to breathe slower. Hyperventation will only make it hurt more.”

“I swear Mr. Wayne, I swear I didn’t tell him” Tim haggard, gazing into the man’s eyes. “Lord Ra's tried to make me tell him, but I would never tell anyone your identity!”

Tim dipped his head, bracing for a blow. Mr. Wayne froze, his brows pinched. He used his other hand to cup Tim’s face, making the boy look at him. The way the man looked at him spoke not of rage, but of concern. Tim dared to entertain the idea that this concern was for him.

“It’s okay Tim. It’s all okay, I know I can trust you. Even if you told that monster anything, it would be okay” Bruce said with a tender voice. He moved his hand from Tim’s face to his forehead, pushing a few strands behind the boy’s ears. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Tim's breath began to slow. Everything else still hurt, but with each exhale anxiety escaped his form. Bruce trusted him, Batman knew he didn’t betray him. Mr. Wayne then adjusted some pillows behind Tim. Next he slowly guided Tim to lie back. The boy was now propped up, but there was no pressure on his ribs.Then the man grabbed a remote nearby, pointing it in the general direction of an IV attached to Tim’s arm. The boy pondered what could be in the tubes entering his blood stream. He prayed it wasn’t some sort of drug that would wipe his memory or do something worse.

What am I thinking? This is Batman, he wouldn’t do that

“Let’s get you some more pain meds, I can tell you're suffering. I’m so sorry son, I wish I could take it all away from you”

He wouldn’t do that right?

“I’m fine Mr. Wayne, it just hurts a bit” Tim winced, setting back into his bedding.

“I know you're tough Tim, but you need to be honest about how you feel. You're injured, it's okay to say you're hurting.”

Tears slipped down the young boy’s cheeks. He felt small, so very small. His parents would be so ashamed at his neediness, his weakness. Lord Ra's would call him pathetic and beat him.

But Batman helped people, it was his job to take care of citizens of Gotham, even the pathetic ones. Tim really couldn’t take the pain anymore, he decided to put his faith in the hero.

“It hurts so much, it hurts a lot Mr. Wayne” Tim cried.

“You can call me Bruce bud, I’ve got you”

Mr. Way-Bruce then thanked him for sharing, which caused the boy to cry even more. After some soothing and mental flailing, Bruce was able to calm the third Robin down. The chemicals pumped into his veins spread slowly across his body. It felt oddly warm, which was much better than what Tim was feeling previously. Before Tim let himself float away he remembered something else, it was very important. He almost jerked up again, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulders.

“Calm, calm down, you are going to hurt yourself again” Bruce asserted.

Fear gripped Tim’s heart, deep ice claws ripped through the organ. Green began to seep into the boy’s visions. Bruce’s eyes widened, but Tim didn’t notice as the boy grabbed the white strands on his head and pulled. The new pain helped him focus, he needed to say this to Bruce.

“He knows! Mr. Wayne, he knows you're Batman. He knows Jason is Robin! Ra’s knows! After he punished me for not telling him, he screamed them at me! He knows your identities! You’re in danger! Nightwing is in danger! Robin is in danger!” Tim all but screamed.

Bruce seized his wrists, stopping Tim from tearing out his hair.

“I know,” he shouted, cutting the boy off. Tim snapped his mouth shut with a click. “I know Tim, I know Ra's has all our identities. He won’t do anything to Robin or you, I’ll make sure of it. You don’t need to be scared, we are all safe” Bruce told Tim simply. Like a father telling his son there were no monsters hiding in the shadows, before bed. Bruce pulled Tim into a hug, holding him while being careful of the various wounds inflicted on the small body. The green tint leaked away, Tim's heart finally stopped trying to burst from his chest.

“Thank, goodness” Tim cried into Bruce’s shirt.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m Batman remember” the hero said, running his hands through the child’s hair. The man was searching for any new injuries, sighing in relief when he found none. Tim let out a small laugh, then nuzzled a bit into the hug. He hadn’t been hugged for so long, he couldn’t remember the last one he had. To feel another living being embrace him was heavenly.

Unfortunately, the door to the medical bay opened slowly. Bruce pulled away while Tim suppressed a whimper at the loss of touch. He could spend the rest of his life in the warm embrace and die happy. Okay, that was an extreme thought even for Tim, but he really liked hugs.

A well dressed and familiar old man entered the room, quickly closing the door behind him. Tim knew he was the Wayne family butler, he wracked his hazy mind for the man’s name.

It’s Penny something, Pennywhere? Pennywilliam? Oh I think it’s Pennysworth!

“Ah I see Master Tim is awake” the butler said approaching the pair with a smile. “I must say I am absolutely delighted to see you awake, my boy.” The older man glanced at the monitors, checking various information before turning back to Tim.

“Oh, um, hello Mr. Pennysworth” Tim stammered, trying to sit up on the bed. Mother always told him posture was everything. Mr. Wayne coughed trying to hide a laugh. Tim tried to act like he didn’t hear it. Mr. “Pennysworth” raised an eyebrow at him before speaking.

“Pennysworth?”

That sounds like a question. Oh gosh, I said his name wrong!

As if Alfred could read the boy's anxious thoughts, the butler smiled at him. The gesture had a soothing aura Tim was very grateful for.

“Close Master Tim, but my last name is Pennyworth. But nevermind that, please refer to me as Alfred.”

Okay social foo-pah forgiven

Alfred walked him through each injury as was inspecting Tim’s form. Telling the boy how long things would take to heal and what to expect in the process. Tim despaired a bit when he was told he had to avoid clenching his fingers or using them in general for quite some time. The child knew he had a habit of smoothing through twisting his fingers together. Mother never really approved, but let him do it whenever his hands were out of sight. It helped him sit still, which was more important at the dinner table. Tim tried to resist the twisting feelings in his guts when he thought of his family. He wondered if anyone told them he was taken. He couldn’t remember where they were currently, the boy assumed it was somewhere in Asia or Africa. The elder Drakes tended to ignore messages when they were on a dig. Whenever he tried to focus on the details he’d get a head splitting migraine. Tim wanted to believe that they were unreachable, because if they did know....would they have cared?

Don’t think like that! Don’t think like that! My parents love me! It is shameful to think so lowly of them! I’m being a bad son!

Tim could feel heat gathering in his cheeks in embarrassment as refocused on Alfred’s words. It felt even more embarrassing, however, that he would have to rely on others to do simple things in the first few weeks of recovery. Until his ribs and fingers healed more, Tim would have to be pushed around in a wheelchair, possibly needing to be carried at times. Even doing things like eating would require some assistance, lest they risk him reopening his finger wounds. Tim was so lost in guilt over being a burden to others, he didn’t even question where the wounds came from.

Suddenly, loud footsteps and mumbles could be heard from behind the medbay door, followed by a loud bang and a yelp. Tim wondered if there was some sort of dog or pet on the other side of the entrance. He assumed it wasn’t supposed to be there because Alfred let out a frustrated sigh.

“One moment, please,” Alfred said, walking back to the closed door. The old butler opened it just enough to show whoever (or whatever) was on the other side a stern look. Tim could hear someone trying to say something to Alfred but the man simply held out a hand. There was some scuffling before the butler was handed a pile of clothing. The voice outside of the room tried once again to speak only to receive a stern no from the butler. Gently Alfred shut the door and turned back to the pair.

“Master Bruce, would you please speak to Master Dick and keep him from breaking down the door? I believe it is time to dress Master Tim in some proper clothing.”

Dick? Dick Grayson? Nightwing is here too?

The boy couldn’t help the excitement growing in his chest. He wished he had his autograph book or some pictures for the hero to sign. He hoped Robin would be around too! He didn’t even realize until that moment that he’d been blessed with the opportunity to meet all his heroes.

“Can I have his autograph?” Tim asked, basically vibrating on the gurney. “Oh and Batman’s too of course and Robin. It can be on anything, even a gum wrapper. Okay maybe not a gum wrapper I don’t have any on me right now.”

The two older men watch Tim babble on about various materials that would be acceptable to mark up with signatures. Noise escaped from behind the door again, Dick and whoever else was on the other side were getting restless.

“Okay Alfred, I’ll go talk to them. I’m sure you have questions Tim, we can address them when you're more settled.”

“Thank you Master Bruce. Now Master Tim let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Tim could not hold in his smile when he saw the butler unfold a black Batman themed T-shirt.

Chapter Text

Dick had never put clothes on faster in his life. He had just finished catching Barbra up with the whole “deaged pit, maybe probably Tim” situation and was fiending to check on the child. He did make sure to talk to Babs long enough for them both to catch up with each other. They hadn’t spoken much since Tim was taken. Their time was devoted to finding the missing bird, it was nice to just have a little time to just talk about other things. Mundane things, like restaurants they wanted to check out or silly things they read in the paper. Babs had a way of warming Dick’s heart that no other person even came close to. Her wit, her charm, her sarcasm, man, Dick knew he lucked out. He hoped he could provide the same happiness, though something deep inside of him felt like it wasn’t enough. If Babara ever knew he thought that she would tackle him (with love).

Babs was getting close to cracking some of the more encrypted files she was able to rip from the League of Shadows. She was working herself to the bone before, now she was down to marrow. Dick understood, Tim’s change was shocking to see over the cameras no doubt. Babs had also tried to contact Cass, but she was still unreachable. Well before Baby Bird was taken, Cass had informed them she was going deep undercover. Like so deep she wouldn’t be talking to them for a while, she didn’t want them to worry. Of course they all still did, but they had to trust she’d find a way to reach them if something went wrong. Cass was by far the most competent of the Bats and she was probably tied with Tim for elusiveness. They would have to wait for her to contact them first.

Dick was smiling by the end of the call. The love birds exchanged a cheesy amount of “I love yous” and planned to meet up at dinner. Dick missed waking up to see her, they needed to have a date night soon.

Okay, time to check on Baby Bird

It was well known to everyone in the Wayne Manor that Dick Grayson was kinda a mother hen. There were very few things in life that the eldest brother valued over his family, especially his siblings. Even with all that love, Dick had made a lot of mistakes when it came to his brothers.

One of Dick’s biggest regrets was how he handled Damian and Tim’s animosity when Bruce was presumed dead. Damian was struggling to find his way before, losing his father so quickly after meeting him was devastating. Bruce had told the boy he didn’t have to fight for his place in the house, that Bruce would never send Damian back to the League of Shadows. The child was beginning to trust those promises. But then Bruce was gone, “dead”, and Damian lost the only blood he had in the home. The kid went into overdrive trying to prove himself worthy to what was left of his family. It was mostly just a distraction, a way to hide a scared little boy under the face of a warrior. A terrified child who was abused and brainwashed all his life, and who above all was scared of being abandoned. Dick could see becoming Robin was the only way to put those fears to rest. The title would cement his place. Dick never regretted giving Robin to Damian, but he did regret how he went about it. He had broken one brother's heart to nurture another. The man never wanted to choose one over the other, he loved them both so much. But he took Damian’s side again and again, out of fear of losing the boy, losing all the progress he made when Bruce was alive. He let Damian say and do horrible things to Tim with little repercussion, giving forgiveness for wrongs not inflicted to himself. He did give what little energy he had left to breaking up fights before things got too bad (or someone almost died). Tim seemed always so strong and independent, Dick assumed he would understand why Damian acted out. In hindsight it was unfair to the other boy. Tim never should have been made the outlet of his brother’s emotions.

Tim had lost a father too.

Baby Bird should have been shown that he was just as important in the family as anyone else. Above all he should have at least known he was loved. But instead he was told to ignore any slights he received and accept being disregarded.

Dick never wanted to make any of his siblings feel that way, but he did and it was wrong. Wanting and acting were two very different things. Every step of the way, Dick rejected Tim’s theories on Bruce coming back. The newly appointed Batman didn’t want to believe, he was still so wracked with grief. It was easier to put on the cowl and be Batman, than allow his thoughts to drift to Bruce still being alive. Any semblance of stability Tim had after losing Bruce was gone when he found Damian in the Robin suit those few years ago.

It was a disaster.

Dick wanted Tim to become his Nightwing, let the mantles pass to the next generation. Tim never learned any of it, because that night in the cave ended with Tim in tears begging Dick to believe him. It caused the new Batman to hit his breaking point. Words given that night haunted the brother’s relationship these recent years.

When he told his brother to get help, he never wanted him to get it from the monster Ra's al Gul.

With guilt lingering in his heart the man looked toward the exit of his room. Damian stood with his arms crossed in front of the doorway. He had been standing there before Dick had even opened his eyes. Somehow, Baby Bat had gotten dressed and ready the day before Dick had even opened his eyes.The boy refused to let the man leave his own bedroom until he had done things like shower and brush his teeth. Dick found it as adorable as it was annoying.

“Okay I’ve showered, dressed, and brushed my teeth. Let’s go, Baby Bat” Dick huffed.

“Deodorant first Grayson, I can smell your pits from here.”

“I just showered!”

Okay Baby Bat is being Bratty Bat today

Dami simply stared in response. Dick threw up his hands and walked into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He stomped back into the bedroom after grabbing his overpriced deodorant and applied it while staring down his little brother. Said brother simply rolled his eyes and finally walked into the hall.

As the two continued down the hallway, Damian stayed ahead of the other. The teen was setting a slower pace than Dick could handle. The young man was anxious to check on his newly returned brother. He felt like a spring, wound up and ready to burst.

“Why are you being so annoying this morning?” Dick whined. Even with how wide the hallways of Wayne Manor were, Damian was like a mini wall. The acrobat couldn’t find a way to weave around him without getting an elbow to the ribs.

“Because someone has to remind you to take care of yourself, Grayson.”

Sweet but still annoying

“But why are you moving so sloooow” Dick whined again, this time draping himself over Damian. Surprisingly the younger one did not force him off and was tense. Now the little ex assassin tended to be on edge more than your average teen, trauma and being a literal super hero didn’t help, but he was stiff as stone. If Dick didn’t know any better he’d believe he was leaning on a warm (short) statue.

“Because you need to calm down before you crash into The Cave, as Alfred would say, like a bull in a China shop” Dami said strangely. Dick backed off looking at his little brother’s figure, taking note of all the little things he missed before. Damian’s hands were partially clenched, his shoulders sat higher than usual. Baby Bat’s body language and tone was starting to paint a clear picture of anxiety. It warmed Dick’s heart that Dami was perhaps concerned for Tim, but it also hurt to see his brother withdraw into himself. Dick gave Baby Bat a hug from behind.

“It’s gonna be okay Baby Bat” Dick whispered, giving a light kiss to Damian’s crown.

Damian melted into the hold for a few seconds, then threw off Dick’s arms. He let out a little hiss and brushed off his shoulders. Dick just laughed and then the pink cheeked boy turned to him. Usually Dick would sit his brother down and talk out their feelings, but right now the two of them needed to get some stress out. They had spent so much of their time searching for Tim and he was home (and hopefully not a clone).

So the eldest Wayne son decided to have some fun.

And there is nothing more fun than annoying his brothers.

“Do not test me today Grayson! I am not a baby, I am thirteen! I am almost a full grown adult!”

Ah, my heart! They grow up so fast

“Sure you are Dami. Let’s go check on Tim alright?” Dick said ruffling the little “almost adult’s” head. “Oh and you’ll always be a baby to me no matter what you say. Race ya to the medbay!”

Damian scoffed and sputtered out an attempt at a response. Now that Baby Bat was flustered, Dick had his window to pass him. He tickled Damian a bit to get him to move just a few inches, then slid past like a slimy snake. The elder took off being chased by a red faced teen, his laughter echoing through the manor. It had been too long and too quiet around here.

Damian threw a (dull) knife in Dick’s general direction while hissing insults. It bounced off the wooden wall, easily dodged by the acrobat. Even while weapons were flying at him, Dick knew Damian was just playing. Sometimes you have to think outside of the box to cheer up little baby ex-assassins. Dick, of course, made a show of opening the door behind the false clock in Bruce’s office, wagging his finger at his pursuer.

“No throwing weapons in the manor! I’m telling Alfred” Dick mocked, ignoring the angry responses.

Dick skipped every other step as he outran Dami down the stairs.

“Stop running away Grayson!”

“Stop being slow Baby Bat!”

He could see Damian smiling, eyes wide with the thrill of the hunt. It was relieving to see such a gleeful expression, Dick could never get tired of seeing it. Even if it meant having a few weapons launched at him, it was worth it.

Dick, always a show off, tried backflipping over the next projectile thrown at him, but the goof forgot he was wearing socks and slipped. The (this time rubber) dagger didn’t cut him, but it still hurt when it hit his ribs! Dick yelped and Baby Brat made a sound of victory. The little terror jumped on the downed man with an evil smile, they wrestled in front of the medical wing’s door.

“Mercy, mercy” Dick begged with more drama than most of Jason’s books. Damian clicked his tongue and stood up, letting out a little laugh as Dick stuck out his tongue like a dead fish.

Right then a very annoyed looking butler opened the door, and gazed at the two trouble makers. Like deer in headlights, they froze, staring wide eyed at the old man.

“Hey Alfie” Dick winced.

The man simply raised an eyebrow and held a hand out to Damian. The teen handed a few articles of clothing to the man.

What the heck?

“When did you have time to grab that?” Dick asked racking his brain for answers

“It appears you are the one who is too slow today Grayson. Must be losing your touch” Damian responded with a very smug expression. Dick repeated what he said in a rude tone while moving right hand up and down to taunt him.

This little shit

Alfred began to close the door on them as they almost began another play fight. But this time Dick held himself back, he had more important things to focus on now.

“Alfie, can we come in? I wanna see little Timmy.”

“No”

And the door was closed on them. Dick immediately glued his ear to the door, trying to hear anything from the other side. He didn’t dare challenge Alfred, that would be a death sentence. The door creaked a bit though from the force of the hero’s pressure. He couldn’t make out much, Wayne industry doors were made almost soundproof (and made of 100% recycled materials! Bonus!).

He recognized Alfrie’s muffled voice and almost gasped at the tiny voice that babbled after. Dick pressed impossibly closer, really testing the stability of Wayne tech.

“You look ridiculous” Damian sniped leaning against the wall while watching his brother, who in fact did look ridiculous.

“Hush, it’s fine,” Dick whispered.

The rant on the other side of the door lasted less than thirty seconds, before being interrupted by, who Dick assumed, was Bruce. Dick was a bit jealous that his father was permitted in, but he was forced to listen through the door. He wanted, no need, to know Tim’s status. He wanted to comfort him, make Baby Bird know that everything would be okay.

Before Dick could get too restless, Damian poked him hard between his ribs. Dick let out a loud gasp at the betrayal and pulled away from the door.

“You little snot,” Dick groaned and grabbed his vexing brother. The little demon couldn’t escape, as he was wrenched into a headlock. “Got ya!” Dick ran his knuckles over the short black hair, punishing Damian with a good old noogie. This punishment was not well received, just as Baby Bat bit into his brother’s arm.

“Ow! You little!”

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Bruce opened the medbay door and paused. Before him, his youngest and his oldest were wrestling, thankfully with no tears or blood. While he was glad to see them less stressed as last night, he really didn’t need Tim seeing them fighting. Even though Bruce could see it was just play, Tim might see it as actual combat. The door quickly shut behind him, leaving Bruce with the duo. They continued their squabble, ignorant to their father’s disapproving stare. Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Alright time to break this up

“Boys” Bruce said in a deep tone usually saved for when he was under the cowl. Specifically a tone he used when he needed to tell his sidekick off for doing something they knew was wrong.

The boys parted and stood ramrod straight.

Once a Robin, always a Robin.

“B! Is he okay? Does he have his memories?” Dick immediately questioned after disengaging with his brother. Damian simply crossed his arms to look at his father. Bruce could feel both pairs of eyes burrowing into him.

“From our brief conversations, I don’t believe he has all his memories. I need to talk to him more, but my running theory is that he only has his memories up to age nine at the most. Tim has always been a small kid, so it is hard to tell his age from his size right now” Bruce answered calmly. His sons’ expressions darkened at the news.

“Conversations?” Damian asked first, sharp as always.

“Yes, he was half awake earlier, he referred to me as Mr. Wayne, and not as a joke. He called Jason, Robin as well.”

Damian bristled and huffed before speaking. “Robin? The boy thinks Todd is Robin? Father, we must correct this!”

“Damian...” the older man sighed.

“Bruce, you only answered one of my questions. Is he okay? Like, physically and mentally?” Dick interrupted, steering the conversation back to Tim’s condition. Damian surprisingly quieted down, no doubt feeling the aura of protectiveness and concern leaking from the young man next to him.

Bruce explicated the injuries inflicted on their rescued family member. He decided to leave out the fact Tim was also missing an organ that almost all of his family never noticed. Bruce still had mixed feelings of the whole spleen situation, mentioning it now would only cause more turmoil.

Next he relayed the results of the various blood tests. Damian looked skeptical at the conclusion that the white haired boy was Tim, but seemed satisfied that Zantana was looking into things. Dick had a small smile of relief, his eyes though showed that relief was only a grain of sand in his ocean of emotions.

“Mentally ... he is definitely traumatized. He hasn’t told me much about what he was subjected to at the League. He was more scared that Ra knew our identities. He thought we were in danger.”

“Baby Bird...” Dick whispered.

“He mentioned that Ra's tried to force him to reveal Batman, Nightwing, and Robin’s identities. Tim said Ra's punished him, and still the little boy never told. His eyes started glowing as he spoke, but I was able to calm him down” Bruce said solemnly. He could see his eldest hands tighten into fists, shaking with a quiet rage. The younger man’s expression went blank, his eyes faded a bit. Bruce had seen a similar reaction when he told Nightwing that Batman locked up the Joker instead of putting the monster down after Jason’s death.

“Grandfather never took age into his considerations when it came to disobedience” Damian said with a quiet sadness. Dick’s hands jerked open, he quickly wrapped one arm around his younger brother’s shoulders, pulling him to his side. Bruce shut his eyes, trying to not let his anger and sorrow take over. When he opened them his gaze was locked with Dick. Fire flickering within the bright blue eyes.

Dick wanted to kill Ra’s al Ghuul, for Tim and Damian. Bruce could not blame him.

Bruce took Damian’s hand, and ran a thumb over the small scarred knuckles. Everyday he wished he could have saved his son from the cruel clutches of The League of Shadows sooner. He liked to imagine he’d give his blood son a life of love and safety, but Bruce was unsure of himself. He knew he’d at least not force his son to kill. Damian was groomed to be an assassin, to be the next head of The League. His new family only knew a fraction of what he suffered in this process. It was ingrained in the boy at an early age to never show “weakness”, never allow anyone to see what was inside his heart and mind. Bruce had only scratched the surface of deprogramming the child soldier before he “died”. The last few memories he had before disappearing was of him briefly chastising Damian for making an attempt on Tim’s life. When Batman returned from being lost in time he found Damian was the new Robin. His son, who thought there was nothing more to life than power, finally cried in front of him. He had received the first real hug from his youngest moments after stepping foot in Gotham. It was shocking the first few times Batman patrolled with the fourth Robin, suddenly the bird was actually listening to commands and expressed new found eagerness to learn. Dick had made so much progress with Damian, that Bruce felt shamefully jealous. Even now he struggled to comfort his youngest child, unable to find any words to say.

“I’m glad you're here Baby Bat” Dick whispered, squeezing Damian’s shoulder. Bruce pushed down the little sparks of envy in his gut. Dick always seemed to know how to worm through Damian’s barriers that Bruce was too afraid or ignorant to test.

At least , Bruce prayed, at this moment Damian could feel the love from the both of them.

Which seemed to be the case, because the boy blinked out of his sad haze and pushed the two men off with a huff. They all pretended not to see the light blush on the teen’s face. A flock of bats flew over the group, they all looked up at them with fondness.

“So Father, how should we proceed with our guest? Do we tell him our various theories we have on his very existence?” Damian asked.

“I think it’d be best to take this slowly and carefully, we don't want to overwhelm him. I still need to ask him some more questions and answer any he has. We can spin him staying at the manor as being necessary to the case. He seems to be under the impression that his parents are still alive, so I’m planning to tell him that they are out of town. I can tell him they are okay with him staying with us if he asks. ”

“So we are gonna lie to him?” Dick asked, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying Baby Bird figured out our identities at this age already, he will figure out something is wrong. Hell, he is going to notice that me and Jason are suddenly much older.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Grayson, Drake has an annoying habit of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong,” Damian added, copying Dick’s unhappy pose.

“He recognized Jason as Robin, so he may be recognizing us subconsciously. Even if you look different, Nightwing wasn’t in Gotham often when Jason was Robin. He might not question any differences in your appearance.” Bruce continued even as Dick deflated at the last comment. “As for Damian..”

“I will not hide in my own home from Drake” Damian sneered.

“You won’t have too, I will introduce you as my newest son. Boys, look, I’m not saying we need to put on a stage play. But we need to be cautious till we better understand what happened to Tim and what triggers Pit episodes in him. We don’t know how or when it will manifest again. He hasn't shown any aggression since waking up, but he did have a violent reaction to us before. We may need to wait and consult Jason when he returns,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

This is such a mess already

“Wait, where is Jason?” Dick asked, narrowing his eyes at Bruce.

“He needed to check in with Roy, he said he'd come back,” Bruce answered, not looking his first Robin in the eyes. This only caused Dick to squint at him more. Years of being around Batman, gave him plenty of experience detecting when the cape crusader was skipping over important details.

Damian clicked his tongue and said, “of course Todd runs away when he is needed.” Dick ruffled his hair hard, the teen tried to punch him in the ribs in return. Years of annoying young Robins, prepared Nightwing to block the blow.

Bruce’s phone pinged, with a text from Alfred.

A: Master Tim has been fully dressed. He is awaiting your return.

Dick detaching from his brother, peered over the phone. He smiled after reading the text, excitement distracting him from questioning Bruce further. Bruce quickly clicked off the phone, he knew he needed to set some guidelines immediately.

“Before we go in, I need to set some ground rules. First, Tim believes he is a guest at the manor, so he is to be treated that way.”

“He already is,” Damian sniped.

“Damian!” Dick chastised.

“Second, none of those kinds of comments around him. Damian, I know you and Tim don't see eye to eye. But right now, Tim is much younger than you, you will not antagonize him. Treat him like you’d treat any other child his age. He is a civilian.”

Damian let out a little hiss. “I understand father. I have no intention of engaging with Drake when he’s like this” he said, crossing his arms once more. Bruce sensed the teen took offence at the suggestion of him being cruel to the boy in the other room.

“You know Baby Bat, you're not the baby of the family right now,” Dick said, putting a finger to his chin. A sparkle manifested in the young man’s eyes. “You get to be a big brother!”

Bruce questioned his life choices watching his sons lock limbs and begin to tussle again. He loudly cleared his throat after a few seconds, giving them both pause.

“Third, no fighting in front of Tim. I know neither of you will follow this, but please keep it tame. We don’t want to scare him. Lastly, let me answer all the questions. Do not tell him about the present till we are more sure where he is at mentally. Can I trust you to at least try to follow these rules?” Bruce almost begged at the end of speaking. Both boys agreed, no doubt Dick was crossing his fingers behind his back.

Here we go

Bruce took a long, heavy breath and knocked on the door. He waited for Alfred to knock back before resting his hand on the handle.

“Under no circumstances do we tell him about his parents being dead.” Bruce whispered. He wanted to spare his child from that tragedy as long as possible. After both boys nodded he slowly opened the door.

Within the metallic sterile room sat a little wide-eyed boy in a medical bed. Blue pools darted to each of their faces, not in fear but in awe. The child was still mostly propped up by pillows, but he sat noticeably straighter as they approached. The collar of his Batman themed t-shirt hung low due to it being just a bit too big for him. He blinked a few times and crossed his hands over his lap.

“H-hello” Tim said quietly.

“Hey Tim, I’m glad the clothes somewhat fit you. I wanted to introduce you to two of my sons since you’ll be staying with us for a while. I know you’ve met my eldest, Dick before. I’m sure it’s been a while though.” Bruce gestured to the man. Surprisingly Dick gave a quiet controlled smile and a tiny wave. “And this is Damian. He is my youngest son, he hasn’t been to too many events yet though so this might be the first time you’ve seen him.” Okay, that wasn’t a complete lie, Damian has attended the least galas out of all his sons. Cass held the title of least public events attended due to all her traveling. Damian did not wave after his introduction, he remained completely unphased.

A practiced smile appeared on Tim’s face. It was almost unnerving to see such a controlled expression by someone so young. Bruce felt some pain in his chest imagining how the boy was trained to react that way. Tim swallowed before speaking.

“M-my name is Timothy Drake, it is a pleasure to meet both of you. Um, thank you for letting me stay here.” He quickly pulled up his collar. “And um for the clothes.” A light blush formed on his soft cheeks. “Oh! And for rescuing me, sorry!” Tim squeaked.

“Oh my God you are so adorable,” Dick nearly squealed, throwing away any attempt to remain composed.

“Your gratitude is acceptable, Drake,” Damian added curtly.

Bruce winced at both responses.

Tim opened his mouth, little noises that mimicked words of embarrassment escaped. A deep pink blush spread across his little face.

He was, in fact, absolutely adorable.

Chapter Text

Tim’s face was on fire! Well not really, but he was blushing pretty intensely. The first Robin called him “adorable”, Nightwing was fawning over him. Thee Dick Grayson was acknowledging him! How was Tim supposed to react? One half of his brain was reeling, his inner fanboy screaming that he had the chance to finally interact with one of the heroes of his dreams and he didn’t have to feign ignorance of their identities. The other half was pulling at strings in his mind trying to knit together the lessons his parents taught him on proper etiquette. The pain medication was still clouding his mind, he could hear his father telling him to always reply to a compliment with gratuity even if it was a passive aggressive one.

“T-thank you” Tim squeaked out. That seemed like the best response for whatever all this was.

“Why are you repeating yourself? You already expressed gratitude, " Damian said, rolling his eyes. A stab of anxiety pierced Tim’s stomach. He was really messing this all up! This was Bruce’s newest son and Tim's first interaction with him was so embarrassing. Tim worried he gave a bad impression, bringing shame to the Drake name!

Tim could feel his mother’s nails still gripping his shoulders. Her voice whispered to him to shut his mouth or he would regret it.

“Don’t mind him, Damian inherited his grumpiness from Bruce” Dick said, waving the teen off. He flashed his famous Grayson family smile, so wide and full of such genuine care it was nearly blinding.

Bruce and Damian made the same disapproving grunt.

Dick rushed to a seat next to the medical bed. He then leaned closer to the young boy, resting his elbows on the bed and his chin in his palms. Tim gazed at his face, something felt off.

Tim knew this was the hero he had followed for many years, but something was different. With a sudden shock of pain, the figure before him split into two. One was the Dick already in the room and the other was what Dick was supposed to look like. Tim could see all the inconsistencies and furrowed his brow. First, Tim noticed the older Dick in the room (Present Dick) was three inches taller than the other, his hair was also longer by a few centimeters. Second, older Dick’s his face was more mature, he still had the same facial structure, but it was all around a little sharper. Tim could also see the beginnings of worry lines on older Dick’s forehead. Bruce had a few more wrinkles too, but Tim just assumed it was something he simply didn’t notice before. The differences with the two Dick’s appearances were much more dramatic.

Tim’s eyes felt as if they were vibrating, the two figures of Dick Grayson were beginning to overlap in front of him. They kept morphing between each other, blending and twisting in confusing ways. A string of words were repeating in Tim’s head, being engraved on his brain in a sickening green:

This is Dick Grayson. This is Dick Grayson. This is Dick Grayson.

The two images of the man became one, the fusion caused a zap of energy to bounce from Tim’s head to toes. Tim snapped his eyes shut, letting out a small sigh of pain.

What was that?

Why was it familiar?

The more Tim tried to make sense of everything the more his head hurt. His mind was screaming at him to stop thinking, stop asking questions. This was Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the super cool hero Nightwing, and that was good enough for Tim.

Tim blinked excessively, trying to gather himself to return the smile he was given. Dick’s own grin fell a fraction and grabbed Tim’s hand.

“Hey Baby Bird, you okay?” Dick softly spoke, staring directly into Tim’s eyes.

Alfred said something, but Tim’s ears started ringing too loud to understand them. He watched mouths move in the room but couldn’t make out any of the words. Bruce had gotten up from his seat at some point and was across the room fiddling with something. Alfred gestured to Dick to get up from his seat, replacing the younger man’s position.

“Wha?” Tim slurred, things were becoming a little clearer. With each breath the ringing became quieter.

“Master Tim, can you understand me?” Alfred asked, watching Tim’s facial expression intensely.

“Y-yes”

“I thought you checked for a concussion already” Damian hissed out of view.

“We did! He had no signs of concussion, or anything kind of brain trauma” Dick responded, sounding cross.

Concussion? Is he mad at me? What did I do wrong?

“Thank you Master Tim. I need to ask you a few questions, I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities. There are no wrong answers.”

No wrong answers?

Choices in life always had a right and wrong answer for Tim. If he chose or said the wrong thing his parents would harshly correct him. If the answer was right, Tim would usually just be ignored. Being correct was safe and sometimes, very rarely, he would even receive praise for his choice.

“I understand Mr. Pennyworth” Tim answered, his tongue fuzzy in his mouth.

“Alfred please, my boy”

See, that was the wrong answer!

“Sorry M-Alfred”

The old man frowned at him, his brown pinching at Tim’s apology. Tim could feel himself on the edge of a spiral, he felt like he failed again. Thankfully Alfred spoke up before the boy could become too lost in his head;

“Young Master Tim, there is no need for apologies. I know things are hard for you right now, I am not upset with you. I simply ask you to refer to me by my first name to relax the both of us. I know you also prefer Tim over Timothy or Mr. Drake.” It made sense to Tim, he still felt guilty, but the pain in his gut lessened at least. It was one thing calling someone by their first name in his head, but a challenge to say out loud. His mother once shouted at him in the middle of a gala when he dared to call the host by their first name. But right now his parents weren’t there, they wouldn’t be upset with him, so maybe he could try “Alfred” over Mr. Pennyworth. He also wanted to ask about the whole “Master” part but he didn’t want to push his luck right now.

“Okay” Tim whispered

Alfred smiled, a sign that Tim was doing the right thing.

“Now Master Tim, let’s return to my questions. I’m simply asking you for a standard concussion test. First, can you tell me your name?”

Easy

“Timothy Jackson Drake”

Tim’s head became less hazy, a good sign.

“How old are you?”

“Nine”

Dick shot Bruce a look, lifted his hands into the air and gestured at Alfred. Bruce waved him off, before taking some sort of tool from the drawer he was searching.

“Last question Master Tim, do you know where you are?”

Tim looked around the room. He really didn’t know where he was, it was sterile like a doctors office and there was a lot of expensive looking medical equipment. Maybe he was at a hospital? But it didn’t feel like one to Tim.

No wrong answers

“Um, I’m not sure. I think I’m at some sort of clinic or hospital?”

“Your conclusion is understandable, right now you're in the medical bay under Wayne Manor. I doubt you have any memories of getting here. I have one last test for you Master Tim, it will be quick I promise.” Alfred said. Bruce passed him the tool he found, Tim was able to recognize it as a pen light.

“He had some light sensitivity when he first woke up,” Bruce stated, brows pinching as he looked at Tim.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered.

“No, no Baby Bird, you did nothing wrong,” Dick said sitting next to Tim on the bed. He slowly reached an arm around the boy, looking for any signs of discomfort. Tim felt the complete opposite, when Dick pulled him into a side hug he was plenty comfortable. All his pain was worth it for this moment.

“Master Tim,” Alfred said, getting the boy’s attention, “as Master Dick said, you have no reason to apologize. We are simply concerned for your health, specifically I would like to check your pupils for signs of a concussion. Now this next step might cause some discomfort, but it is necessary I promise.”

Tim nodded, his pain was starting to feel more manageable. He’d do anything to remain in this hug, even if it was shameful.

The pen light burned his eyes but Tim kept them open. He was determined to not become more of a hassle by expressing his pain. Alfred let out a little sigh and turned off the light after checking both eyes.

“I believe you are in the clear, but Master Tim. You look like you're still in pain, does your head hurt?” Alfred asked while returning the light to Bruce.

“My head hurts, but I think I just need to drink some coffee. I tend to get headaches when I go too long without caffeine. They wouldn’t let me have any when I was at the League. ”

Alfred sighed while Dick let out a little laugh.

“Caffeine withdrawal can cause headaches, I’m sure your body is used to consuming greatly over the suggested amount for your age. I will allow you to have small portions later, but know your caffeine intake will be monitored and restricted.” Alfred reached for something on the tray next to the bed. “This Master Tim is a medical monitoring bracelet, it will keep track of your vitals and alert us if you need medical attention. Please keep in on for now, for our sake and your’s. I’d also like you to stay near the medical bay for now. Just in case you need more medical attention.” The old butler paused, waiting until Tim gave a nod before continuing. “Thank you Master Tim. Now how about I prepare you something to eat? It’s getting close to supper time, I’m sure you are hungry.”

Tim’s belly let out an audible growl, answering the question without words. Tim thanked the man, who just smiled in return. Alfred stood up and announced he’d be making tomato soup and french baguettes. The other members of the Wayne family seemed very happy at the news. Alfred’s soups must be something special.

As soon as the butler was out of sight, Tim looked up at the hero hugging him. He needed to ask Nightwing something important, so he tried to gather his courage before speaking.

“N-Nightwing?”

Darn it!

He still stammered, which the boy found embarrassing, but he wouldn’t back down. Tim put on his best “serious business” face, it was an expression his parents had him practice hundreds of times in the mirror. His gaze was intense, and was met by his hero raising an eyebrow in response.

“Uh, what’s up Tim? Can I do something for you?” Dick asked with an awkward smile.

It’s now or never!

“Can I have your autograph please?” Tim asked, keeping his face neutral and his voice steady.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick choked back his laugh, disguising it with a cough. Damian scoffed at the austurdy but thankfully Tim was too focused on the older hero to notice. Bruce retrieved a blank sheet of paper and a pen, while Tim went through a long string of sentences explaining how grateful he’d be if Nightwing signed anything for him. It made Dick feel a little bit better after whatever Tim just went through. Dick was energized with excitement when he first entered the room, only for that energy to switch to anxiety when Tim froze. The boy’s pupils trembled as he looked at the young man, Dick feared the boy was having a seizure or something, but then Tim’s gaze suddenly sharpened. Tim blinked a few times, Dick swore he saw a flash of green. Thankfully his eyes were still blue after the last blink, and stayed blue as they spoke to him. Alfred asked standard questions when a concussion is suspected, which Dick was surprised (and a little miffed) that Bruce allowed.

So much for rule number four

Dick could sense everyone was holding their breath while Alfred examined the boy.

It was released when Alfred cleared him.

Now Baby Bird was acting so serious and it was killing his brother. After Dick signed the paper Tim thanked him with wide eyes full of wonder. A memory floated through the man’s mind, sending him back to a night many years ago.

It wasn’t just any night, twas the night of his family's final performance. A much younger Dick had just gotten dressed for the Flying Graysons’ Grand Show, and decided to step out for some fresh air while doing his stretches. The air was cool and crisp, in contrast to the rising temperatures of the tent as guests flowed in. The peace of night time always comforted the boy, he loved the excitement of the circus, but sometimes he just needed to see the stars instead of being one.

Unexpectedly a tiny creature ran straight into his shins interrupting the routine and causing Dick to shout in confusion. The unknown entity's arms wrapped around his legs, and thankfully, Dick was able to keep his balance only flailing a bit in surprise. When he looked down only to see a black mop of hair, he gave it a little tap trying to identify it. Was it an animal or perhaps a soft furred monster? A face turned up to him, blue eyes staring into Dick’s very soul.

The creature was a child, a little boy, who gave a big smile that threatened to consume his entire face.

“Hi! You so cool, I excited to see the show!” the child blurted out, too elated to worry about proper grammar.

“Um hi, thank you?” Dick was still a little shell shocked. He'd met fans before, but none of them were this cuddly. Usually they would just tell him how amazing he was and at most shook his hand, his parents had always made sure that he was given space. But this was a kid, not some weird adult, and Dick hadn’t had a chance to hangout with anyone around his age or younger. His family traveled a lot, but that’s okay, Dick had Zika the Elephant to keep him company.

The tiny boy let out a little giggle and made grabby hands up at Dick. He was way too cute to resist, so the acrobat picked the boy up by his armpits and gave him a hug. The younger child slid his limbs around the older boy in response. It was like holding a big koala, a snuggly friendly big koala.

Did a stork drop him off? Maybe mom was telling the truth.

Earlier, Dick had asked his parents if he could have a little brother. He really wanted one and promised he’d help take care of the kid. Sometimes Dick wanted someone else to talk to who wasn’t an adult or Zika. His dad laughed loudly, while his mother ruffled his hair. She said that maybe he’d have one in the future. She couldn’t tell him how long to wait, but she did tell him where babies came from when he asked. She told him that on calm gentle nights storks flew through the sky delivering babies to lucky families. There was no way to tell when it would happen, which caused Dick to pout. The expression quickly turned to a smile when his mother asked if he wanted to give Zika some peanuts. His desire to know more about acquiring a sibling was lost, until now.

The unnamed kid rubbed his face in the Dick’s chest, letting out a sigh of contentment.

“I always wondered what hugs felt like, I get why people like them,” the younger child said.

“You haven't had a hug before?” Dick asked.

“None that I can remember”

The stork just must've dropped him off

Dick looked down at him again, wondering if he should tell his parents or wait for it to be a surprise. He wondered if the little guy would want to be a trapeze artist and learn all kinds of acrobatics. Dick always wanted to teach someone how to take to the skies like him. His parents always called him Robin for his love of soaring through the air, maybe this child could be another bird!

“I always wished for a little brother, I’m going to call you Baby Bird!” Dick said, rubbing his newly claimed brother’s back.

“Baby Bird? Brother?” Baby Bird said, pulling away to look at Dick’s face.

“Yeah, since I’m the first one you met I get to name you right?” Dick asked.

“Name me? I have a name its T-”

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” screamed a well dressed woman. She looked angry, scary even, and she was stomping towards the pair in way too expensive high heels. “What on earth are you doing!?!”

The woman reached towards Baby Bird, long red claws trying to snatch the little guy out of Dick’s arms. The older “brother” flinched back, he didn’t want her to hurt them and was scared she’d take his little “brother” from him. As he stepped back, he bumped into his parents who had rushed to the scene after hearing the shouting. Before Dick’s parents could ask what was going on, an irritated man stumbled over. Dick could clock that the strangers were together based on how extortionate his suit looked.

“Timothy! Get over here now, you are acting like a child!” the woman ordered again.

He is a child, a little kid at that

Timothy started wiggling, but Dick locked his arms. Just because they said the kid’s name was Timothy, doesn’t mean they were his parents and Dick wasn’t ready to give him up. He had found him first, well probably...

“Sorry for my son’s behavior, you know how boys his age can be,” the rich man said.

“I’m sorry Father” Baby Bird said, still trying to leave Dick’s arms.

Dick released Baby Bird, shocked that the boy already had a family. If these were Timothy’s parents, then the little boy wasn’t his new brother. Dick had thought Tim looked similar enough, with the black hair and blue eyes, to be a Grayson. But the Drake’s shared more facial features with the kid.

When Tim ran over to his mother, Dick let out a sigh of disappointment and looked at the ground. Only to snap his head up when Tim let out a little cry of pain. Mrs. Drake was gripping his hand hard. Her nails dug into his skin, causing the child to wince. Dick and his mother took a step towards Tim's so-called parents. But Father grabbed both their elbows, holding them back.

“Not a problem, the little guy did nothing wrong,” Father said with a smile.

“You are too kind, we should stop bothering you before your show,” Timothy’s father replied.

“But I-” Timothy tried to say something as he pulled a camera out of a case clipped to his pants, but went silent when his father shot a nasty glare his way. The little boy’s mother jerked Timothy close, whispering no doubt something cruel in his ears. The kid’s eyes looked wet as he nodded at whatever his mother said.

The pairs of parents exchanged a few more words, Dick’s could tell his own parents were getting frustrated with the Mr. and Mrs. Drakes. They complained about him misbehaving every other sentence. The little kid only looked sadder and sadder as time went on. His parents gave fake smiles and stiff nods. Dick hated everything about the older Drakes, he couldn’t believe a stork would have given these people a kid. They acted like they didn’t even want Timothy.

The Drakes mentioned needing to find their seats, marking the end of the conversation. Tim gave a small wave, trying to hold back tears and give a wobbly smile. The sight made rocks form in Dick’s guts, waving back seemed like a hollow way to say goodbye. The Drakes turned to leave, Dick decided he needed to speak up. He couldn’t let the kid go crying like that, even if he wasn’t his own little brother.

“Wait!” Dick shouted, surprising the adults around him. “I uh...”

Come on Dick, think! Think!

Oh, I know, the camera!

“I promised him a picture, I have to keep my promise” Dick said looking at his mother, begging with his eyes. She smiled at him, a twinkle in her own.

“Well a promise is a promise” She said posing next to her son. Timothy passed his camera to his disgruntled father and ran over to the Graysons. The tears that threatened to escape were nowhere to be found. After the photo Timothy gave them more than a thousand thank yous. The older Graysons found it adorable and laughed, while Dick whispered that he would show the boy how to do a handstand after the show. Stars filled Timothy's eyes, staying bright even as he was dragged away. This time little Timothy gave a huge wave accompanied by a loving smile that Dick returned.

The Graysons had little time to discuss what occurred before the show. Let it be known, Dick inherited his mother henning tendencies from Mama Grayson. She went on a rant about how the elder Drakes behaved, Dick adding sounds of agreement. Father only shook his head, telling them they needed to focus on the performance.

Dick had planned to ask his parents if the stork could be contacted and rescue Tim from that horrible family.

But he never got the chance.

And for years the memories of his parent’s death overshadowed any happy ones that could have been made that night.

Dick tried to return his mind to the present, closing his eyes to stop any tears from sneaking out. It was still so hard on his soul to think of that night. Bruce had given him another chance to be Robin, to soar through the skies in Gotham instead of the circus. Dick found purpose through his life as a hero, letting each person he saved add a stitch to the gash in his heart where his parents once stayed. While Bruce did provide him with love in his own ways, he was terrible when it came to emotions. Some nights he could comfort his traumatized son, other nights his actions felt hollow. Because the first Robin could see the man never healed from his own parent’s death, Bruce was Batman man for peat sake. Running around in a costume and punching away your feelings just screamed “I am a mentally well adult role model.” So for many years, Dick gave up on fully processing that night, he forced those memories out of his mind to focus on the mission. But he couldn’t keep it up forever, when the pressure of everything came to a head, Dick needed space and trust, something Bruce couldn’t give. So after a long screaming match, Robin was no more.

Nightwing took to the skies and Dick tried to keep up the facade that was his life.

When Jason joined the family, Dick tried to block him out too. It took awhile to realize that blocking everything out was not a way to live. Jason was emotional, angry, and caring. Bruce had tried to teach him the same problematic coping techniques; and it backfired hard. Jason couldn’t hold everything in, refused to, and Dick was proud of him. Dick could never go back to being Robin, but he could help nurture the new boy hero. And little by little Dick started recovering, started allowing himself to feel again. Started removing the stitches that held his heart together to let the wound truly heal.

Unfortunately, things regressed after Jason died. Dick couldn’t handle anything he felt, so he went back to playing pretend. He’d wake up in Bludhaven and mold a fake smile every morning.

Until Tim showed up and changed everything.

Dick would be forever grateful to Tim for saving the photo they took together, and he even gave Dick a copy. It sat framed on Dick’s desk at home. Everytime he looked at it, he tried to smile. The more he did it, the more genuine the expression became.

Dick finally returned to the present, the corner of his mouth turned up as he looked down at the baby bird by his side.

“Where’s Robin by the way?” Tim asked, clutching the autograph paper to his chest. “I thought he’d be here.”

Damian perked up, only to get a look from his father. The fourth Robin let out an irritated huff, but kept his mouth shut.

“Uh Jason had to step out for a bit, he will be back later though” Bruce answered quickly. Tim frowned, pouting a little. While the expression was extremely cute, Dick didn’t want the little guy to be sad. Big brother knew just the thing to distract the little bird.

“Hey Tim, have you ever wanted to see the Batcave?” Dick asked coyly. Baby Bird’s eyes went inhumanly huge, his face beaming with excitement and joy.

“Yes, yes please!” Tim pleaded, practically vibrating on the bed.

“Guess what?” Dick whispered.

“Dick-” Bruce tried to interrupt but there was no stopping what was about to happen.

“What?” Tim asked, sitting up so his ear could be closer to Dick’s mouth.

“You're already in the Batcave” Dick barely whispered, it was loud enough to be heard across the room.

“Really!?!”

Chapter Text

Damian could only sigh at the foolery before him. Grayson was showing off the giant penny in the Batcave, arms waving about with every other word. The tour was a silly affair, but the being they suspected was Drake found everything jaw dropping. He even treated the Bat Trash Can with the same awe as the trophies taken from the various rogues of Gothem. It was just a trash can with paper bat ears taped on it, but Drake still wondered at it.

The ears were not even accurate to bat ears, they were just simple paper triangles!

Father was constantly stepping in to guide the group away from anything that would alert the Drake-look-alike of the time period. It was like an odd game to keep away between Bruce and Dick, Damian could only roll his eyes at the actitics. Worst of all, Drake kept hurting himself when he got too excited. The child had a terrible habit of curling his hands into fist and cheering during Grayson tales, forgetting he had wounds on each of his fingertips. The child would wince or pitifully whine. Each Time the disturbance occurred the men were suddenly at his beck and call. This Drake was fawned over and comforted, reminded with kind words to not agitate his wounds. The Drake Damian knew would have never accepted this infantilization. Drake coveted his independence and was always planning something. The child was so unlike his counterpart, that Damian found himself becoming more and more worried that the real Drake had yet to be found.

Not that he’d admit that out loud.

Still just because he showed no sign of cloning, and had scars that were difficult to see, and they knew the Lazarus Pit could de-age a person...

Okay, Damian could admit to himself that there was a good amount of evidence that this was their Tim Drake. But he refused to let himself relax like the others until Gordon or Zatanna provided them with more information. Even then Ra’s could have faked files to mislead Gordon ,and was Zatanna someone they could trust? She was just some magician that the Justice League trusted to be their magic expert...

Damian sighed, he knew he was in denial. He knew he was letting his emotions leak into his logic, but he couldn’t take there being even a sliver of a possibility Drake was still out there. That he was waiting to be rescued or being tortured by Grandfather. There were nights Damian would close his and try to sleep, only for the image of Tim being taken jerking him awake.

The expression his older brother held, was one hauntingly familiar.

It calle back to when The grandson of the “Head of the Demon” was only six years old.

Mother had spent months teaching him how to properly sever a head with one swing of a katana. At first he used a sword smaller than a standard blade, it was appropriate for his size. Mother had personally seen its creation. That blade was something Damian possessed when he moved to the Manor, kept hidden under his bed. Only ever taken out when Damian found himself longing for his mother.

The lessons started with him learning to cut fruit, then working up to dummies made to mimic human flesh. Once he mastered the technique, his mother brought Damian larger weapons, teaching him how to compensate for the extra weight and length. She would correct his posture with each swing, always quick to remind him how grandfather would not accept any mistakes. She would cuff him on the back of his head if he dared talk back, cry, or make too many errors. At night Mother would hold him, telling her son that the cruelty came from a place of love, and without a hard hand he would not survive.

One day Grandfather summoned him to the main chamber Damian was both excited and terrified, Grandfather had rarely spoken to the boy up till then. Damian wanted to be perfect. When Mother led him to the door, she pulled him close into a hug. It was warm, as always, but it was also tight. Mother took a deep breath before speaking to him.

“You must be strong. Remember my teachings and do not hesitate.”

“Yes mother” Damian whispered, daring to tense his arms behind her back.

“Make me proud”

Her arms quickly pulled away, her residual heat faded quickly. The cold metal door before them slowly opened. Damian could smell blood wafting through, but he kept silent. Ra’s al Ghuul sat tall in his throne, a amused look on his face. Damian was unsure if that was a good omen, he had no idea what to expect from the invitation, only that failure in any form would not be accepted. Each wall of the room had at least six soldiers standing at attention. There were also two servants standing on each side of the throne sitting in a deep bow. Mother quickly left her son’s side, taking her place to stand by the lord. She crossed her arms behind her back, eyeing Damian with a stern look. The assassin in training walked in next, kneeling before the throne and his family. He had practiced his manners for many hours with his teachers, making sure his head was low enough to show submission but high enough to still look up at the ones above him.

“My dearest daughter, how has my grandson’s training fared?” Ra’s asked, not even looking at Talia as he spoke.

“He has reached every milestone expected of him. He has a strong arm and soul, especially for his age.”

“I think I will be the judge of that,” Ra’s said, waving his hand towards another door on the left side of the room. The closet warriors bowed then opened it, at the same time the door behind Damian closed. The boy could feel the air grow tense, he was trapped in whatever test Grandfather had prepared for him.

The scent of blood became stronger.

From the recently opened door, two prison guards dragged out a body. Briefly Damian thought they were already dead, but the bag covering their head moved with tiny painful breaths. The figure was brought to kneel in the middle of the room, Damian could see crimson staining their clothes. Damian showed no reaction, he kept his breath steady as Grandfather rose from his throne. Wordlessly a servant brought the lord a sheathed sword, it was longer than the swords Damian had ever practiced with.

Without even looking Grandfather grab the blade pulling it from its cover. Another servant took the sheath as Grandfather pointed the blade to the bound man.

“This man is a traitor, one you may recognize”

The bag was removed from the defector, revealing a swollen, slashed, face. Damian just barely recognized him past the injuries, it was his mathematics teacher, Mr. Abdallah. A man who showed him kindness and patience, something none of his other teachers dared to do.

Damian had been struggling to understand mathematics for a long time, the formulas looked like some sort of alien symbols. Any weakness, physical or mental, was shameful in the Al Ghuul family. Mr. Abdallah was brought in to tutor the boy. At first the man’s teachings were like every other teacher who gave up on Damian. He started working through problems with the boy, explaining each step. But still Damian couldn’t apply what was shown to other scenarios. The man never responded to the boy's failings with anger, but mild frustration. Mr. Abdallah was quick to tell Damian, the vexation was not with the boy, but with himself. He told the boy that failure resided with a teacher rather than a student when it came to education. Damian still felt guilty that he was the cause of the educator’s turmoil, but oddly he didn’t find himself feeling shame.

Then one night Mr. Abdallah caught his student sketching a bowl under dim candle light. Damian expected to be chastised for pursuing a frivolous pass time, but the teacher responded with fascination. He realized that the boy had an eye for art. He realized through images Damian understood the world and that Damian was intelligent, just not in the way others understood. This was a major breakthrough for the both of them. Mr. Abadallah taught Damian through pictures and diagrams instead of plain numbers. After a few lessons, the numbers stopped looking so foreign. The boy could mentally draw the answers then translate them into writing. His old teacher never looked more proud when Damian was able to complete an entire worksheet without any errors or help.

“Usually he would have been executed with his fellow conspirators, but I believe he could teach you one more lesson before his death.” Ra’s walked past the man and held the blade out to Damian.

“Kill him”

Damian whipped his head up and looked into his Grandfather’s eyes. The old man simply raised an eyebrow.

Get a hold of yourself!

Damian closed his eyes and suppressed any urge to shake as he rose. He was scared, he’d never taken a life. He had never been given a task directly from his grandfather either.

He was afraid.

Shameful

Damian took the blade and spared a glance to his mother. She nodded, her eyes returning with a searing gaze. Ra’s stepped back with a smile, watching his grandson approach the kneeling man. The boy fell into the proper stance, he could do this.

But then Mr. Abdallah looked at Damian. His brown eyes were warm as any other day, a small smile graced his lips. Damian could feel his hands shake, he remembered all the moments they shared. The praise the man gave him after spending hours working through problems with the boy. The warmth his hand gave when resting it on Damian’s shoulder as they read more complicated books. The love the man had for any of his student’s drawings.

The kindness, as rare as a natural diamond, in Damian's life.

His eyes felt wet, he knew he looked pitiful. But he really didn’t want to kill the only man he dared to see as an ally, a friend.

One who never hurt him, one who laughed with him. What could his friend have done to betray them?

“Well Grandson?” Ra’s said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Damian raised the blade, he could feel the difference in weight of the weapon. He made small adjustments to his form, just as mother taught him. He could not ask his grandfather what the man had done, he had to simply obey.

I...I don’t want to do this

The man on his knees still looked at him, not in fear but peace.

Please

He mouthed a few words to Damian, there were teeth missing from his mouth. His gums were bleeding as he silently told Damian, “it’s okay.”

Please

Damian tightened his grip on the blade, he tried to picture his practice dummies. But he couldn’t unsee the man in front of him. This had to happen, he had to kill Mr. Abdallah. It wasn’t something he had a choice in.

Please, someone

“Kill him now!” Ra’s shouted.

But the blade stayed in the air, Damian couldn’t move. He couldn’t kill Mr. Abdallah in cold blood and it enraged his grandfather. He was a failure, a weakling.

“How cruel grandson, you could have given this man a painless death,” Ra’s said, pulling out a dagger.

Before Damian could even think of what the man meant, Ra’s stabbed the blade into Mr. Abdallah's stomach. The Lord cut with surgical permission, allowing the man organs to slide through the wound but not fully sever. The act would not instantly kill the man, no it was much crueler, the victim would die from blood loss. A slow, painful death, and it was all Damian’s fault. Mr. Abdallah let out a scream and looked down at his leaking entrails. He was quickly gagged with a cloth before he could beg for mercy, a soldier yanked his head back to look directly at Damian.

“Well? Will you let him drain or will you act as a man?” Ra’s spat.

Mr. Abdallah's tear stained eyes locked with Damian’s, the boy could tell the man wanted to die. Bleeding out was too cruel of a way to leave this world. Guilt weaved spikes into Damian’s chest, he had to end this. It was no longer murder, it was mercy. Gathering all his strength Damian accepted his task.

The sword was brought down on the man’s neck. His head fell to the ground with a sickly soft thump. The body, like a puppet with cut strings, slumped. Warm blood splattered on the young executioner's face, a little sneaked into the crack in between his lips. The taste of iron was as disgusting as it was horrifying. Grandfather hummed, with what seemed like approval. Damian was too numb to fear it was not. The Lord walked back to his throne, a few drops of blood of the traitor on his sleeves. He sat with a bored expression, while Mother’s face was unreadable.

“Next time Grandson, don’t waste everyone’s time. Especially mine,” Ra’s said, waving his hand to the servants, who then began to clean up the carnage. Mother walked slowly over to Damian, the child looked up at her trying not to cry. Her gaze was cold, it sent a clear message, her son would receive no comfort. Mother grabbed his head and bent his body into a standing bow. Shell shocked Damian did not resist, he was lost in the details of the stone brick ground.

“Apologize” She whispered.

“M-mother?” Damian whispered back.

She dug her nails into his hair, twisting the strands to emphasize her next words.

“Apologize to your grandfather for hesitating. Apologize for wasting his time and most of all being weak.”

“I-I’m sorry grandfather, for wasting your time and hesitating. For being so shameful, for being weak” Damian shuddered.

After a pause, the older man spoke.

“While your behavior was less than satisfactory, you still completed the task. You are forgiven, but Grandson...”

Damian dared to look up at his elder, a smile had found its way on the Lord’s face.

“Knowing my forgiveness only extends as far as my patience.”

“Yes Grandfather”

After being dismissed, Mother led Damian out of the room with an iron grip on the back of his neck. They passed Mr. Abdallah’s head lying with its right ear pressed to the ground. Damian could see the veins and bones cut, clean like the fruit he practiced with, at the base of the neck. Crimson juices leaked across the floor, filling the crack in between the bricks. Damian felt the pressure behind his eyes and bile rise in his throat.

The face still held an expression, one visible even through the wounds and gag. One of relief, but not quite happiness, but soft all the same.

The dead man’s visage told of an embrace of hopelessness and of death.

And it was the same face Drake had when he was taken many years later.

Drake was ready to die for Damian, and it made the younger boy’s bones rattle. When he closed his eyes he could see both Mr. Abdallah and Drake.

Damian could not help but feel responsible for both men’s fate.

So Damian couldn’t let things go, he couldn’t let himself feel relief. Because if Tim was still out there, his younger brother would find him. What made the fourth Robin clench his teeth painfully was how the rest of the family did not share his goal. They rather let themselves play pretend with a child who looked like Drake, they didn’t even consider that he could be an agent of the League.

Grandfather was an expert of mind games and what better way to get to Bruce “I adopt sad kids” Wayne, then a child.

This “child” could merely be a distraction or a spy. The ex-assassin couldn’t understand how other members of his family could be so trusting. They’ve seen clones before, they’ve fought metahuman with unexplainable powers. And now they were giving him a tour, trusting this boy with their greatest secret.

“And this is the BatComputer, probably the most used station in the whole cave!” Grayson said, then proceeded to describe the various functions of the device. He looked up a few villains in its database, occasionally being stopped by Father when he started going too deep into the files. Drake was mostly staring at the screen in awe, until the two adults were looked away, then the face fell into a more calculating look. Specifically a look Damian had seen before when Red Robin noticed clues that the other heroes had missed. This Drake had noticed something, but kept it hidden under a smile when the adults turned back.

What are you planning?

Now Damian felt even more suspicious, he watched Drake's eyes drag over the cave and widened at the sight of something.

“What’s that?” the mostly white haired child asked, pointing to the uniform display case. It was a large glass rectangle that held all of Robin's past suits, older versions of the Batsuit, and Gordon’s old Batwoman costume. It used to act as a memorial to Jason Todd as well, but said vigilante despised its existence so much that he forced Bruce to remove the plaque. Grayson had told Damian about how he was glad the memorial was no more, the case felt less depressing to be around. Now some members of the Wayne family could look at it with nostalgia instead of pain, or that’s at least Grayson believed. Sometimes Damian wondered how much of the Batfamily actually liked seeing their pasts on display. Personally, Damian now saw it as a symbol of the legacy he must continue, and it motivated him to become better than all other Robins before him.

“Oh uh” Dick stumbled.

Batman moved to block Drake’s view.

“Say Alfred is probably close to finishing dinner, let’s pause for now” Father said.

“Yeah, come on Timbo let’s get you some grub, I’m sure the granola bar B gave you earlier hasn’t done much to stave your hunger” Grayson said, turning Tim’s wheelchair to the elevator to the top of the cave. Grayson cut off any questions Drake was about to ask with another story about how Batman had it installed after the first Robin broke both his ankles in a fight with Mr. Freeze.

The group left the cave and soon found themselves in the family dining room. The Wayne Manor had multiple dining areas, mostly huge and extravagant, but the smallest one was used just for the family. It started with a small antique table that just used to serve Father and Grayson, as the family expanded they just kept adding tables. None of them were the same, yet somehow all three lined up perfectly. Damian had no doubt Pennyworth had filed some of the legs to keep things leveled.

On the way from the Cave, Father once again strategically positioned himself to cover any photos of the older Timothy Drake. There were only a couple, but still Father stayed vigilant. It was completely ridiculous, were they going to take all the family portraits down next?

In the dining room, Pennyworth had already removed a chair from the arrangement. Drake had an obvious spot next to Grayson, no doubt strategic, the eldest child would be whining the whole time if he wasn’t able to “help” their young guest. There wasn’t assigned seating per say, but they did have patterns they tended to follow. Father always sat at the head of the table, Damian of course always at his right. The left seat next to Father tended to either have Grayson or Gordon. Todd tended to sit as far away as possible from Bruce, but still stayed adjacent to at least one family member. Drake also avoided sitting next to certain family members, specifically the ones who have tried to kill him before. When Cain was in the country she tended to change spots throughout the night, somehow she always ended the meal next to Drake. Pennyworth would sit on whichever side that would help balance the room. A few extra chairs laid at the far end, for the very rare guests. They were also a reminder that the family could expand, something Damian actively tried to ignore.

Grayson whistled an annoying tune as he wheeled a very stiff Drake to the table. The child seemed quite nervous, occasionally making aborted attempts at fiddling with his fingers. The anxious behavior read more like an act to Damian, Drake was clearly making himself seem more meek and needy. Especially when he tried to pick up his napkin, only to pause and press his palm over it. Grayson asked if he needed assistance, but the boy shook his head and carefully dragged the cloth off the table and to his lap.

He is clearly trying to make a scene

Damian clicked his tongue, he grabbed his own napkin. After folding it in the proper angle he placed it centered over his own legs. No one acknowledged him doing such a mundane action, because that was what it was! A mundane action that Drake’s show made appear like an “impressive” accomplishment.

“Ah, I'm glad to see you all present and in one piece,” Alfred said, carrying out a few baskets of various kinds of bread. Appetizers were a must when it came to the Wayne family, they needed something to nibble on as they waited for other late members. Being a superhero tended to lead to unexpected delays.

Everyone thanked the butler as the baskets were set on the table.

Grayson, of course, snatched the first bun after Pennyworth left the room. Without butter or even cutting the bread, the man shoved the whole thing in his mouth like a savage.

“You are disgusting” Damian sniped, taking a piece of rye with his uninjured hand and carefully spreading a sliver of butter over it. Drake seemed surprised by the first Robins crassness, only to giggle when Grayson shifted the bread between his cheeks like a crazed squirrel. Father just shook his head, remaining silent at the whole affair.

Drake reached towards the basket only to stop just before his bandaged fingers could make contact.

“Sorry, forgot again” the boy mumbled, quickly pulling his hand back. Dick shook his head and tried to speak, but the words were lost to the bread still shifting around in his mouth. Father and Damian found Grayson’s attempt at words repulsive.

“Dick, don’t talk with your mouth full. No one can understand you” Father said. Grayson rolled his eyes in response and swallowed loudly. The noise made Damian’s skin crawl.

“Okay okay, sorry Baby Bird” Dick said pointing back to the food. “Now let’s get you some bread. Do you want butter?” Grayson waved the butter knife around in little circles.
Drake put his hands on his lap and lowered his head a bit.

“Yes, please”

Grayson grabbed a thin slice of wig, no doubt Pennyworth pre-sliced it for their guest. After applying a generous amount of butter, the young man cut the piece in half and stabbed one half with a fork. He pointed the skewered grain towards a confused young boy. There was an uncomfortable pause, it was clear to everyone else at the table that Grayson was attempting to assist the child.

It was not an uncommon practice in the Wayne manor to serve others at the table. Hands were an easy thing to damage in Gotham’s streets. Scaling unstable buildings and grappling constantly lead to strains in the wrist and fingers. There were also a variety of weaponry rogues attacking them that would result in limited motion for the heroes: poison, frost, acid, blades, etc. If they made a list for every danger they faced a week, with twelve point font on eight point five inch wide paper, it would stretch across the entirety of Crime Alley. They had specialized utensils to help with eating while suffering from minor injuries, but major ones required more hands-on assistance. Grayson once told Damian, every Robin had to pass the hurdle which is accepting help at the dinner table. Damian simply laughed it off and ignored Grayson's wisdom. He thought because he was ambidextrous he could easily switch hands if one was injured. But then he broke each finger in one battle, facing Bane. After nearly three days of trying to use his bandage clubs and finally becoming sick of liquid meals, he folded with a deep pink face. He suspected Todd or Drake would make fun of him, but surprisingly they acted with indifference. No one laughed or teased as Pennyworth fed him spaghetti wrapped around a fork. After the meal, the fourth Robin cornered the third, demanding why he didn’t take the easy shot at the other’s pride. Something Damian would have done in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed.

Drake’s answer was simple and quick.

“We’ve all been there”

The four words were pondered by the younger boy that night. Many weeks later his hands had healed and he had the opportunity to act with malice, but he surprisingly didn’t. Grayson had come to dinner with his hands paralyzed with a toxin. Father assisted Grayson with his meal and on instinct the youngest Wayne almost released a snide remark from his lips. But he held it in with his tongue and let the words die, he only opened his mouth to swallow some of Pennyworth’s excellent salad for the rest of the meal.

“Um, what are you doing?” Drake asked to bring Damian's attention back to the present. Grayson twitched and gave an awkward smile. Clearly he had assumed this child would follow expectations established by the other Waynes. But it was this Drake's first time eating with them.

“Oh, uh...I was...Do you want some help?” Dick stumbled.

Another awkward pause held the room.

“I-I know Mr. Penny-Alfred, sorry Alfred, said I’d need help but that seems excessive. Not that I’m doubting his medical knowledge. I just....I don’t want to be a bother.” Drake whispered the last few words, lowering himself in his seat.

Damian ground his teeth when he realized he was allowing himself to sympathize. He would not fall for this performance!

“Tim, your fingers are still seriously injured,” Father chimed in. “We’ve all had to help and be helped by someone when it’s come to simple things.” Father paused when the boy looked unconvinced. “Even Batman needs help sometimes.”

“And Robin!” Dick added cheerfully. “You have no idea how many times Jason’s made me eat all my greens when my hands were out of commission. He was never really stubborn when it came to clearing his plate though.”

And that was enough to convince the child to accept aid. It was odd how easy Drake could be persuaded with just the mention of Robin or Todd.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim could smell the heavenly aroma of the soup before Alfred entered the room. The boy was relieved that he was no longer the center of attention. Being fed by Dick was embarrassing, even if he and Bruce said it was nothing to be ashamed of. It was hard to rely on them so much, but the fear of being rude (and maybe knowing Robin had accepted help) overruled any urge to resist.

Alfred informed them that not only was Jason arriving in a few minutes, but Barbra Gourden would be joining them in ten! Then the butler took a seat next to Damian. Tim had never seen a butler, or wait staff in general, sit with their employers. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Tim was just used to his parents being rude to anyone without seven digits in their bank account.

Dick did hesitate to offer Tim a spoonful of soup, but the boy made everything seem okay with a strained smile.

Speaking of the soup, it was heavenly! The spices were complex but comforting, it was also warm but not hot. All in all it was perfect. The only time he had tomato soup before was from a can that he poured into a bowl and heated in the microwave.

Dinner was pleasant, everything was so nice.

A ring of a doorbell made Tim’s heart race a bit. As Alfred went to fetch Jason, Tim was trying once again to control his excitement. Two more of Tim’s heroes were going to be here, he could get both Robin and Oracle's autographs. This day was amazing-”Who knew getting kidnapped would lead to me meeting so many heroes” Tim accidentally said aloud.

Everyone's eyes snapped to him, Damian’s glare the harshest of all.

“I mean, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get kidnapped or that it was a good thing, I’m just so happy to be here and uh. You know how hard things have been for me over these past few days haha” Tim stumbled over his words. His parents would kill him if they heard how he was talking.

“Actually we don’t Drake, why not enlighten us,” Damian said, narrowing his eyes at Tim. Tim’s shoulder shot up to his ears.

“Damian” Bruce said in a warning tone.

“I-I mean uh um,” Tim was really losing it now.

He couldn’t form the words to describe his captivity, he didn’t even want to think about what had happened. He didn’t want to think of what felt like hours of being locked in a room with no clocks or having adults scream directions at him. The faces of strangers angry when he performed behaviors they disapproved of. The smell of iron when he-

Static ripped through his head, yanking the thought away.

Don’t think about it

“I am just asking him to clarify his statement” Damian huffed, his gaze never leaving the flustered boy. “Is it not true that we are unaware of exactly what he is talking about?”

“I will talk about everything later with Tim,” Bruce said with a stern tone. Now Tim felt glass form in his chest, it scraped his bones and muscles. A rattling kind of anxiety threatened to shatter it and stab his heart. He was causing them to fight, why did he even speak at all?

“Damian, let's just focus on having a nice dinner. Stop pressuring Tim,” Dick said, trying to distract Tim with more soup. Wordlessly the boy sipped the liquid, feeling it flow between his teeth and warm his mouth. It felt almost like-static-

Don’t think about it

“Pressuring? Please he is the one who brought it up” Damian huffed.

“That’s it, you're benched for this week” Bruce stated, his tone indicating there was no changing his mind. Tim felt little bubbles pop under his skin, he was ignoring Dick now. The boy’s gaze we locked on the two others in the room.

“What? Why?” Damian shouted, slamming his hands on the table. Tim flinched and Dick startled, a spoonful of soup splashed onto the table. It wasn’t a lot, but Tim thought it looked like -static-

Don’t think about it

“Now it's two weeks, do you want to make it longer?”

“Shoot, sorry Baby Bird” Dick apologized then wiped the spill with his napkin. The soup was stained the cloth in a pale red. Something was pushing at Tim's eyes, threatening to pop the orbs from his skull. His thoughts drifted to the fluids that all living hearts pump to keep them alive. The static was weaker this time.

Damian started to argue how unfair he found whatever Bruce was talking about, but Dick interrupted.

“Dami stop, this is not how Robin treats victims of kidnapping!”

Robin?

Damian took Dick’s words like an insult, anger redding the young teen’s face.

“How can you all just be okay not knowing what happened? For all we know Grandfather could still have our Timothy in his clutches!” Damian shouted back.

“Boys!” Bruce nearly yelled.

Grandfather?

“Robin? Grandfather?” Tim whispered.

“Shit” Dick whispered. That was the last thing Tim could hear before his hearing was swallowed by the loud beats of his own heart.

The static couldn’t stop his racing thoughts anymore, the world went fuzzy. He wasn’t at Wayne Manor anymore, he was in a dark stone room. The air reeked of iron, green glowed at the edges of his vision. Blood was on his hands, why was blood on his hands?

“Well done detective, I’m impressed someone so small could be so brutal” a man's voice pulled the boy’s attention. “My Grandson could never eliminate so many in such little time. I shall nourish your brutality, you will become so much more than he could ever be.”

Lord Ra’s

“Now let’s begin your next test.”

Someone touched Tim’s shoulder, it teleported his mind back to the Manor. But was he truly at Wayne Manor?

Dick and Bruce looked different, there were more suits in the case than there were heroes, the date on the Batcomputer was years off, Dick said Damian was Robin

Damian is Ra’s al Ghuul’s grandson.

Tim threw himself to the floor, whoever touched him tried to grab hold of him but slipped away. He knew he needed to run, he knew that he wasn’t safe.

He knew everything was wrong.

“Shit Tim” someone swore. There were other voices but they were muffled. Tim scrambled away from the sounds. Green dyed the edges of his vision, creeping its way into the center. The world kept shifting, one moment he was at Wayne’s Manor and the next he was in Ra’s compound. The temperature switched to match each location, making both of them feel so real. Tim tried to stand, but his ankle felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire.

Was the red soup or blood?

“Tim wait, calm down”

“Stop resisting detective”

Green and wet, the world was green and his body was wet.

“This is a trick, this has all been a test” Tim gasped, dragging himself farther from those in the room with him. Whether it was Lord Ra’s or his agents pretending to be his heroes, Tim knew he had to get away. He clawed at the ground feeling agony stab nails in each finger tip, ripping through ropes that bound him. But that didn’t matter, whatever pain he went through would be worth it if he could only get away.

Someone tried to grab him again, a hand far too close to his face. Like a cornered dog he bit it, hard, he could taste their blood in his mouth. He hated how familiar that taste had become. The bite did the trick though, the person screamed and jerked back. When a hand brushed his leg he kicked away with all his strength.

“You can’t make me, I won’t do it! I won’t go back in the water!” Tim screamed, tears and snot smearing across his face. He had to get away, why couldn’t they just let him go? Tim knew he was just a kid, they were going to overpower him. He needed someone to save him, he begged someone to help him. Sickly Green words were whispering past the blood rushing in his ears. Telling him to let go, let it save him. But he didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want to fade away, he didn’t want more blood on his skin. Everything hurt so much, it was hard to tell how far he moved with all his flailing But he could make out the door way, he could see the door was open. He could see black boots on the other side, somehow he knew who was there. New tears of relief leaked from his eyes, he let out a hard breath forcing his body closer to the figure. Then he dared to look up at his rescuer.

It didn’t matter that he looked older or that the man’s eyes were green like most of Tim’s vision. His mind had already confirmed who he was.

His hero, his Robin was here

“J-jason” Tim cried, grabbing the man’s right leg and ignoring all the hurt as he pulled himself closer. “Robin, p-please, you promised.” The boy rubbed his face into the pant leg, wishing everything else away. The fabric was rough and scratchy, but it was real that's all that mattered.
“Please d-don’t let them take me, p-please.”

Strong gloved hands reached under his armpits and lifted the sobbing heap.

Tim knew he was saved.

Robin was here

Chapter Text

Jason was looking forward to dinner, Alfred texted him they’d be having tomato soup. All of Alfred’s cooking was marvelous, but his soups were on another level.

Meeting up with Roy was definitely the right call, his friend had a way of breaking down big problems into bite size pieces. He made Jason sit down and chomp through all the shit he did these past weeks. Reflection was important, it helped Jason feel more in control and helped him separate his own feelings from the whispers of The Pit. It wasn’t like it gave him emotions, no the curse from the resurrection only amplified his emotions.

Roy really chewed him out on not responding for so long, so Jason agreed to check in each night for the next three weeks. It was a way to make up for his silence and also reassure Roy that Jason hadn’t slid back into a slump. After giving Lian a big hug and giving Roy a bone breaking one, Jason took off on his bike.

On his way to the manor he thought of Kori, wishing she was back on earth.

Kori was one of the first folks to reach out to him, after he was back on speaking terms with the Bats. Starfire worked occasionally with Nightwing, no doubt the other hero spilled the beans to her.

She ended up being the first person he dared to reach back to.

Jason let just enough of his mind to drift and relive the memory, but still drive safely on the road. He let himself imagine the texture of the ratty sofa he never bothered to throw away and the smell of his old apartment (it smelled nice, not stinky!).

Jason was on one end of the couch, Kori on the other. Her warm soul and wild orange hair strongly contrasted Jason’s haggard self. Jason had called her in the middle of a bad night. He had let his rage dominate him on patrol and he almost shot a kid during a fight. He didn’t shoot the kid, thank God, but it had been too close. The mess not only made him more angry, but it also scared him. The random street kid looked too much like Tim. It had been four months since the second Robin had nearly beat his replacement to death. Jason hadn’t felt any guilt about what he had done to the third Robin till that moment.

He didn’t have the courage to call Roy. Roy had a kid, he had Lian. Jason wasn’t sure he was safe to be around them. He already hurt a child, he could hurt another. Jason spent hours that night spiraling, imagining horrible things he could do to those he loved.

So he panic called Kori, begging her to help him. Starfire knew emotions, Tamaranean’s powers came from them. She also knew how easy it was to get overwhelmed by them. Jason knew she’d be able to assist him and if not, she could stop him with her super strength. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, just blurted out his address and hung up.

The first thing Kori did when she came to Jason’s apartment was grab its owner's face. Then unleashed a mess of questions.

“How are you alive? Why did your eyes change hue? Humans can’t usually do that right? Your eyes are glowing too, what is going on? Are you secretly part Tamaranean? Jason I swear if you are and you kept it from me I will throw you!”

She never paused for any answers and dragged him to the couch before he could give any. The ball of orange energy zoomed around till she found Jason’s largest hoodie. It was hot pink and had “I AM THE MANAGER” printed in large black letters across the chest. It was a hand me down from Dick, the man had broken into one of Jason’s safe houses and left him some clothes. Jason burned most of them and the note attached to the bundle. He never read it but he assumed it was part of some scheme to guilt trip him into talking to Dick more. The pink hoodie was way too funny and comfy to toss or burn.

Kori always loved stealing everyone’s hoodies, but would always return them when she left.

Jason first started crying with laughter at her antics and then started crying for real. He broke down telling her what had happened. She slowly took him into her arms while he confessed how he almost killed a random kid. How he attacked the third Robin, who was just a young teen. How he slit the boy’s throat and painted a warning on the walls with the blood. How he only just realized how fucked up of a monster he was.

He begged her to help or hurt him, just stop him somehow from hurting anyone else. She pressed her forehead to his and started crying with him. When they both finished shedding tears, she was the first to speak.

“If you wish to control your anger you must first understand your anger. It’s the same with any emotion. I cannot control your anger for you, but I can teach you how to control it yourself.”

“You sound like Yoda” Jason responded with a smile.

“I know not who that is”

After a long talk, she convinced him to call Roy over. When the other man arrived the first thing he did was headbutt Jason for not calling him sooner and telling him he had returned from the dead. Then he hugged Jason and joined the crying party. There were no words that could describe how grateful Jason was for their help. With Roy’s experience from rehab and Kori’s understanding of emotions, they came up with: Operation Mean Green, also known as “Help Jason control the after effects of The Pit and not let him run away.”

Operation Mean Green took almost two months. Roy taught Jason coping skills and how to avoid bad habitats. Kori helped him get in touch with his feelings and how to avoid spiraling. The two heroes decided Jason couldn’t be left alone. Every four days they’d switch babysitting him, sometimes sleeping at Jason’s apartment or taking him to a nearby safe house.

They weren’t therapists, Jason wasn’t fixed.

But his friends were there for him and that made things so much better. Jason knew Operation Mean Green was a success when he was able to trust himself to walk alone at night. His friends were able to return to their homes, their own routines, but made him promise to keep in touch. The first few months after Operation Mean Green, Roy acted as his “sponsor”, instead of doing weekly check ins about addiction they talked about his anger. Every two weeks Jason and Kori went to various places to blow off some steam or just talk.

It had been five years since the inception of Operation Mean Green, Jason had made a lot of progress and his friends knew it. Now he usually went out with Kori once a month and checked in with Roy biweekly. Things were less intense and they were able to return to just casual friendships. Sometimes they’d just hang out or do missions together.

Jason knew he could call either of them if he relapsed, but he didn’t this time. Kori was going to be all over him when she got back.

As Jason pulled up to the manor, he found himself actually looking forward to sitting down with his family.

He was anxious of course. He hadn’t interacted with a completely conscious Timbo yet and had no idea what had happened while he was gone. He calmed his thoughts as he knocked on the door and was greeted by everyone’s favorite butler/grandpa. Alfred’s smile always had a way of making everything seem okay. After letting him in, the old butler informed the vigilante about how Tim was awake and seemed coherent. Then went into details about Tim’s mental and psychical status. Jason wasn’t sure about how to feel about this Timmy not having any memories past age nine.

How had he recognized Jason durning the rescue?

The man was debating in his head whether it was a blessing or a curse that the boy didn’t remember Red Hood’s attack on Titan’s Tower. If Tim had his memories, Jason wasn’t sure his little brother would have trusted him. The rescue could have gone a lot worse if the kid was afraid. Jason had to stop his train of thought, he was getting too upset about hypotheticals. The kid was at home and safe, that’s all that mattered.

Then Jason heard a scream.

Jason dashed past Alfred, he knew it was Tim. He hated that he could instantly recognize it, because it sounded just like Robin from five years ago.

He hated that he caused that scream before.

Tim might be younger than thirteen now, but the kid’s voice didn’t start dropping till his late teens. The third Robin was always a late bloomer, to an unhealthy degree.

Goddammit Bruce

When he reached the dining room, he was glad the door was already open. Because if it was closed, he would have ripped it from its hinges.

So what was he met with?

Tim, on the ground, bleeding and crying.

He looked more scared than most Fear Gas victims, every fiber of his being was either tense or shaking. He had blood leaking from his lips and bandage fingertips. The crimson had leaked down the little bird's chin, smearing a line across his neck.

He looked like he did the day Jason attacked him.

The day he mauled his brother while spuing vile insults with every other blow.

The day that ended with Red Hood running a blade across the third Robin’s throat.

Jason’s body was still, metal chains weaving between his muscles locking them in place.

“You can’t make me, I won’t do it! I won’t go back in the water!” Tim screamed. The outburst caused Jason to blink slowly. Each time his eyes closed he was able to pull himself further away from a full blown dissociative episode. He couldn’t lose himself now, he needed to save Tim. He needed to be his protector.

But Tim was so small, so fragile, Jason was afraid he’d break him just by touching him.

Wait

Water

Jason's vision tunneled onto the sobbing boy crawling his way, no one else mattered right now. He wouldn’t let them take his brother, he’d never let them hurt him again.

Right now, there were only two teams in the world.

Us vs. Them

Us was Jason and Tim, them was everyone else.

He could tell when Tim recognized him. There was a spark of hope that pierced through the weeping, and it flamed the protectiveness burning inside his older brother. As the metal holding Jason melted, his little brother scrambled towards him with a burst of energy.

“J-jason” Tim sobbed, his tiny arms wrapping around Jason’s leg. “Robin, p-please, you promised.” The boy hid his face in the fabric of his older brother’s jeans. Jason could feel the tears dampening the spot. “Please d-don’t let them take me, p-please.”

Never

He slowly reached down and gently picked up his Baby Bird. He could feel every shiver, every shake as he pressed the tiny body to his chest. Instantly Tim wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck and his legs around his waist. Jason adapted his hold to have one arm supporting the boy’s thighs and used his unoccupied hand to cup the back of Tim’s head. Large fingers weaved into the tiny boy’s pale locks.

Once his precious little brother was secured, Jason scanned the room. The other’s in the room didn’t dare approach the pair, Jason’s gaze was like Medusa’s. They all stood still as stone.

Good

Without a word Jason left, he had nothing to say to any of them.

Alfred had caught up to Jason by then, the butler was only spared a glance.

“Oh dear,” Alfred said with wide eyes.

Even in his fierce protectiveness, Jason could recognize Alfred was an exception. If it was anyone else in the hallway Jason would have growled at them to get away. Instead of trying to stop the pair, The older man gave them a wide berth. He didn’t question why Jason was taking Tim away, he understood that the boy was safest in Jason’s arms.

It was now us vs. them (minus Alfred).

“There is a medical kit in the restroom of each guest room. Please clean Master Tim wounds once he has calmed down,” Alfred said, following them at a distance. “I will send additional medications for the young master later, please make sure he takes them.”

Jason paused, then nodded. Alfred left them, probably returning to the dining room. Tim, still lost in his own trauma and fear, started hyperventilating in response to Jason stopping. The boy let out little gasps of pain, no doubt caused by his bruised ribs.

Jason shushed him gently and continued to walk them to the stairs. He was careful with each step he took, trying not to jostle his brother at all. When they reached the guest bedroom that felt the most safe to Jason, he pulled his hand away from Tim’s head. The child let out a whine in between his gasps for breath. Jason gave him a small pet before reaching for the door knob. As soon as the door opened, Tim went still.

Jason felt a spike of anxiety, he was worried Tim had passed out. But when he pulled the child back to get a good look at him, Tim threw his head away and vomited. It wasn’t much, clearly the boy hadn’t eaten much of dinner. His little body lurched hard, followed by a series of painful coughs. Bile and stomach acid dripped from his lips as he cried in misery. Jason stumbled but somehow kept the boy from falling to the ground.

“Oh Baby Bird...” Jason whispered, taking them to the guest bathroom. He made sure to close the guest room’s door as they entered with his foot.

Jason sat with the boy as empty what little was left in him into the toilet. Tim was moaning and gagging, it was horrible to listen to. Each sound a knife in Jason’s heart. It only lasted a few more minutes, but it felt like hours. Tim slumped to the floor as Jason flushed. The child was too tired to even shake, he simply lay still and continued to cry silently as Jason wetted a wash cloth.

The older brother propped up the younger and tried to clean his face. Only for the younger to grab his wrist with inhuman strength as soon as the cloth made contact. Small half opened glowing green eyes stared into the older matching pair. Both of them were feeling the effects of The Pit. While Tim was being swept around in the waves, Jason was only up to his ankles.

“Safe, you are safe” Jason whispered. Tim tightened his grip, Jason suppressed a wince. He’d probably wake up with a bruise tomorrow, but he didn’t care right now.

“R-robi-in?” Tim questioned in a shaky voice. Slowly Jason leaned forward, keeping eye contact as he pressed his forehead to Tim’s.

“Yes, Robin is here. You are safe. I will protect you.”

“No w-water?”

“No water, just a wet cloth. Just cleaning your face.”

Tim closed his eyes, relaxing his grip but kept his hand still wrapped around Jason's wrist. It was fine, Jason suspected the hold was helping ground the child. Keeping him tethered to something sturdy in the storm within his mind.

Jason had to move slowly as he dragged the cloth across Tim's face, he would pause when the child’s hold tensed. After a few seconds it would go slack and Jason would continue his work. They were going at Tim’s pace. The respect and patience Jason gave was responded with trust. Tim closed his eyes, letting Jason take care of him. Jason suppressed a shiver as he thought about the responsibility he had been given.

Once all the sick and blood was off the kid’s face, Jason hesitated to move on to the neck. He could really only peek at it, fearing if he looked too hard Tim’s head would sever from it. He hadn’t realized he was panting till tiny bandages fingers touched his right cheek.

“Robin?” Tim whispered, using what little energy he had left to cup Jason’s cheek. “Robin, what’s wrong?”

Jason tried to blurt out a response, but the words were stuck in his throat. He choked as tears slid down his cheeks. He could see through his blurry vision that Tim’s brows pinched.

“Don’t cry Robin, we’ll be okay,” the boy’s eye lids sunk lower and lower with each word.

And then Baby Bird fell asleep, trusting his hero with everything.

I don’t deserve his trust

I hurt him

Jason pressed his forehead against the other’s again. He felt the tiny warm breaths, calm inhales and exhales. He tried to follow them through his tears, watching his brother's rib cage rise and fall.

He gathered himself, he could not let his regret keep him from helping his brother. It took a bit for him to work up the courage to touch Tim’s neck. With each centimeter he powered through his fear and guilt to wipe away the blood.

Thank God

Tim didn’t have any neck injuries, there wasn’t a weeping gash, only a scar. A horrible scar, a permanent reminder of Red Hood’s actions and Jason’s brutality. Seeing it on someone so small made Jason want to cry all over again. Once again he gathered himself, fought his guilt, and went back to helping his Baby Bird.

Though the blood was gone from Tim’s face and neck, he was still bleeding red from his fingers. Jason laid Timmy on the ground, making sure he was in the recovery position. Then stood and opened the mirror cabinet. He grabbed a thick medic kit.

Alfie really makes sure these things are stocked.

When he kneeled back to the ground, he adjusted the sleeping boy to sit in his lap. He leaned the tiny back to his chest, making sure Tim’s weight wouldn’t be on his injured ribs. Jason was actually a little grateful Tim had passed out. He wouldn’t be able to meticulously clean and re-bandage the fingers if the boy was awake. The clawing his brother did earlier hadn’t done too much damage, but his fingers were already fucked to begin with. He really needed to not use them for a while, it would only make healing take more time.

Jason felt more at peace once the wounds were dealt with. He contemplated checking the boy’s ribs, but the kid was breathing steady, so he decided he’d check them in the morning. He also spent some time pondering if he should change the boy’s clothes or give him a bath. But Tim’s didn’t seem too hot on water right now and waking up in different clothes might cause another panic attack. Jason knew he hated when people changed him when he was unconscious, it made him feel violated.

After checking that the boot was still properly supporting Tim’s ankle, Jason moved them to the bed. He laid down with Baby Bird resting on his right side. The kids head on his chest and shoulder under his armpit. It would help keep the kid on his side, in case he threw up again. No one was drowning on Jason’s watch. The man also used his own body as a wall , blocking anything that could come through the door.

Jason doubted he’d sleep much tonight, he needed to stay awake to protect Timbo. He used one hand to hold Tim to his side and the other was kept on a loaded gun.

No one was going to hurt his little brother.

——————————————————————

Dick stared at his bleeding hand. Tim had bitten him hard when he was freaking out (understandably).

Not only had Dick called Damian Robin, but his argument with the teen led to the reveal of the other half of Damian’s blood family. Tim was terrified at the news (also understandable) and threw himself to the ground in panic. The child crawled and clawed across the floor, screaming very concerning things. When Dick tried to intervene, his little panicked brother bit him. This time Dick didn’t have the Nightwing suit to protect him.

It hurt a lot, but seeing Tim suffering and knowing he was the cause, hurt so much more. So Dick pushed through the pain and tried to stop Tim’s flailing. But Tim kicked him away this time, it was clear the boy wanted to get away from them all.

“You can’t make me, I won’t do it! I won’t go back in the water!” Tim shrieked.

After hearing that Dick turned to Bruce, he was about to beg the man to help, but stopped when he saw the man’s expression. Bruce looked guilty and was staring at something too tall to be Tim. Dick followed his father’s gaze. In the doorway stood the second Robin, Jason Todd, green eyes and all. He looked pissed and a little worried too, but mostly very very angry.

“J-jason” Tim cried.

Tim had somehow made it to the man and was gripping Jason’s leg.

“Robin, p-please, you promised.” The boy pushed his face into the cloth. Like a little kid, closing their eyes to make the monster go away. “Please d-don’t let them take me, p-please.”

Baby Bird…

Dick wanted to say something, but he doubted Jason or Tim would even listen to him.

This looks bad

It was bad! Why didn’t he or Bruce separate Tim from Damian? Why did they argue in front of a little kid who knew nothing of their family’s dynamic?

Dick could feel his blood flowing down his hand and dripping onto the floor. He didn’t know what to do, he was just standing there letting everything happen.

Just making things worse

Jason slowly picked up Tim, each movement was careful and gentle. It would have been heartwarming to watch if Dick’s heart wasn’t wracked with regret. When Baby Bird was secure in Jason’s arms, the man scanned the room. His gaze never focused on anyone but sent a clear message.

He was Tim’s shield right now, but he could also be a weapon. He would hurt any of them if they did anything to Baby Bird.

Jason left without a word, as soon as his form was no longer visible Damian bolt in the opposite direction.

“Damian, wait!” Dick tried to call. He took an aborted step in the boy’s direction, but then jerked towards where Jason went.

Who was he supposed to go to?

Dick was in a familiar hell, once again fate was asking him: Which brother do you choose?

Dick kept looking back and forth between the two directions his kin went. Tim had Jason, but no doubt also had aggravated his injuries. Jason was probably struggling with Pit related feelings as well. Dick interfering could make things worse or could prevent things from getting worse.

Then there’s Damian.

Dick was not mad at Damian, frustrated yes, but not mad. If anything Dick was more worried than frustrated. Dick knew he was right to criticize Damian’s behavior, but should have picked his words better. Tacking on the boy’s hero persona was playing with fire. Dick knew Damian was insecure about being good enough for the position. The ex assassin had taken lives before and his blood family ran an evil empire cult thing. His history made others see him as a threat. Even though Damian had been a child during all of it, no way of knowing better. Not many folks knew Damian still held guilt from his past. The fact that the boy’s background was such a soft spot, ment that seeing Tim’s fear hit extra hard.

Tim was scared of Damian because Damian is Ra’s Al Ghuul grandson.

It’s a stab to the heart to think about. Dick really wanted to hug all his little brothers.

So who does he choose?

“I’ll talk to Damian,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

“But,” Dick choked.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. I can’t talk to Jason right now. We had a deal that if Tim was crying when he got back, he could kick my ass” Bruce said with a smile. Dick didn’t know how to react, but when his dad hugged him, he hugged back. Bruce left without another word, Dick prayed he’d handle his brother with care.

He would be forever thankful that Bruce didn’t make him choose.

“Hey everyone, sorry I’m la - Oh shit!” Barbra exclaimed, rolling into the dinning room. “What the fuck happened?”

I completely forgot she was coming

“Language Mistress Barbra” Alfred chimed in, looking exhausted when he saw the state of the room.

“Sorry Alf, but seriously what the hel-heck happened?” Babs rolled over to her boyfriend. “Dick you're bleeding.”

“Yeah”

“That looks kinda bad”

“Yeah”

Dick suddenly had no energy, no thoughts, it was all too much right now. Barbra gave him a long look, then took his uninjured hand.

“You okay Show Star? Don't you dare say “yeah” again.”

Dick didn’t respond but he did squeeze her hand a bit. She gave him an even more concerned look in response.

“Mistress Barbra, could you please do me a favor and bring Master Dick to the medical station in the cave. I believe he may need stitches for the wound,” Alfred said.

“Yeah, I got him Alfred.”

“Why do you get to say “yeah,” but I don’t?” Dick mused, feeling a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Barbra gave him a little shove.

“I'll join you in a few minutes. I need to clean this all up. Take some bread with you. I believe family dinner is not happening tonight,"Alfred said, collecting the scattered dishes in the room.

Chapter Text

Barbra was relieved she only had to give Dick two stitches. Judging by the size of the bite wound, it was clear it came from a smaller person. She had a suspicion it was Tim, Damian wasn’t a big fan of chomping into flesh of any kind.

Dick had been silent the whole trip to the medbay, only holding her hand and matching her pace. It was unnerving to see the first Robin so quiet. Especially when he was silent during the stitching process. Dick loved to fake sounds of pain to tease his girlfriend, whenever she treated his injuries. She’d usually give him a smack on the leg in response. Unless of course he had a leg injury, then she’d flick his nose.

After putting away the medical supplies, Babara decided it was time to unfurl her emotionally numb lover. She rolled over to where he was sitting on a medical cot. She then sat up in her chair and wrapped her hands around the back of Dick’s neck. She slowly but purposefully pulled him down till his head was on her shoulder. Dick didn’t fight her, this was part of their little ritual to ground each other. An action without any words that said “I’m here.” Dick turned his face to her ear, his lips nearly touching her skin.

“I almost had to choose again,” Dick whispered.

“What happened babe?”

“Me and Damian…messed up, bad. I said Damian was Robin and Damian mentioned Ra’s Al Ghul was his grandfather…Tim didn’t react well to either revelations”

Barbra let out a sigh. The two knuckle heads really messed up big time. Bruce had texted Barba earlier in the day about not mentioning anything involving recent years at dinner. He also asked her not to ask about the boy's captivity or press him for information. Barbra had sent him a thumbs up emoji in response.

So the heroine pressed her boyfriend for details instead. Going through what happened at dinner helped both of them. Barbra was caught up to speed and Dick was a little more grounded. It was like debriefing, but with a little more care, love, and sass.

“I’m glad Bruce is handling Damian,” Barbra said, pulling away to snack on some bread.

“I am too, I don’t know who I’d go after if he didn’t step up,” Dick said, pressing a kiss to the side of the woman’s head. He grabbed another roll and jammed the whole thing into his mouth.

“Hey! No more thinking about choices for you, mister. It’s done now, okay? And Bruce taking care of your siblings is his job. Sure you were a part of what went down over dinner, but B shares a lot, if not more responsibility. You're not their dad, you're their brother.” She said, giving him a peck back, then pulling on the man’s ear.

“Thanks Babs, I’d be lost without you”

“You're damn right!”

“Mistress Barbra, you were the last person I would expect to need two reprimands in one night. Especially for language,” Alfred chided, walking into the medbay.

Ugh unlucky

“Sorry Alfred” She said, swatting Dick away when he tried to take a nibble of her food.

After Alfred checked in with the pair, he pulled out a metal tray and headed towards the medicine shelfs. Barbra watched the old man gather various bottles full of pills, she could tell Dick was watching closely too. The butler was acting odd. His movements were slightly slower than usual and he almost knocked something while counting pills. She glanced at Dick when Alfred paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. The butler’s hands had a slight shake to them.

“Need some help there Alf?” Dick asked, his voice back to its playful nature.

“No thank you Master Dick, I am simply preparing Master Tim’s medication.”

The pair waited in silence for a bit, unsure what to do with themselves. Alfred was leaning some of his weight on the counter top as he worked, not bothering to maintain his usual perfect posture. Once he was satisfied with his mistrations he pulled back and started swaying a bit.

The two other adults dashed to the old man. Barbra stopped the tray from falling while Dick held Alfred steady.

“Woah, woah A! You okay?” Dick asked, deeply concerned. As Dick guided the other man to a cott, Barbra followed, acting as a spotter.

“Oh my,” Alfred sighed.

Once he was settled Barbra wheeled over to the fridge to get a chilled water bottle. After she handed it to him, Alfred took some big sips under Dick’s watchful eye.

“What’s going on Al?” Barbra inquired, resting a hand on Alfred's knee. The old man sighed deeply, his body deflated on the bed. He closed his eyes and took a moment before speaking.

“I’m afraid I am guilty of not taking care of myself as one should.”

“You need a break Alfred,” Dick insisted, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Alfred nodded and opened his eyes.

“You are correct, but I must make sure Master Tim receives his medication. It is crucial that he stays on schedule with them.”

Alfred tried to stand again, but both Dick and Barbra gently pushed him back down. The couple shared a look, they could tell they were on the same page.

“I can take the meds to Tim,” Dick declared, walking away from the others and to the tray. “Is this everything?”

“Yes, but-“

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit Al,” Babara interrupted. Alfred gave her a tired glare, but she gave him one back. “Dick can handle this, you on the other hand need some rest.”

Alfred sighed again, whipping a hand over his face.

“It would be hypocritical of me to fight you both on this. Master Bruce would never let it down. Master Dick there are saltine crackers in the third cupboard, and emergency electrolyte water in the fourth. Please deliver them to Master Tim when you bring him the medicine. All the crying probably dehydrated the boy and I fear he didn’t eat enough to stomach the pain reducers.”

Barbara could see Dick hesitate when looking over the medication, he saw something but chose to keep it to himself. Before Dick left Barba pulled him aside just past the doorway. Alfred didn’t try to follow, hopefully that was a sign that he finally accepted that he was not allowed to be on his feet right now.

“What’s up with the meds? I know that face you made when you saw them, what’s wrong?” Barbra questioned leaning forward to look the multicolored pills over.

“He just... I don’t want to question Alfred’s judgement, but the dosage he prepared seems a little extreme. Like this is a lot for an adult let alone a kid, some of this stuff you only use if someone is close to sepsis or has a compromised immune system,” Dick answered, lacking his usual confidence. The man lowered the tray a bit.

Barbra glanced over the medication, Dick was right, it seemed a little extreme. There was standard pain medication, portioned to match Tim’s size. But the antibiotics were way more than Tim’s described injuries required.

“I agree, do you think Alfred forgot to tell you all of Tim’s injuries? He seemed pretty tired.”

“Jason and I did an examination on the plane, I feel like we’d notice any major wounds. Unless it's internal…but Alfred would keep me in the loop on that.”

“I mean, do you think he messed up the dosage? Like out of habit, he prepared the amount to match a much older Tim?”

It’s a lot of pills

“Ugh I hate to say it but yes. If I ask him about it now he might try to weasel out of resting.”

“Why not ask Doctor Thompkins?”

“I’ll call her, but I don’t know how much she can help since magic is involved.”

“Dick she works in Gotham, I’m sure she has seen all kinds of oddities.”

“You're right, thanks babe” Dick said, sharing a small kiss with his “babe”.

After a brief discussion, they decided to part ways for now. Barbra would remain in The Cave to keep an eye on Alfred and run her newest computer program on her laptop. She knew she was close to a breakthrough. Oracle might not be able to help her birds directly right now, but she could crack open the League’s files and figure out what happened to Red Robin.

——————-

Dick wrinkled his nose at the smell in the hallway. Right away he knew it was vomit and that probably came from Timmy. It was heartbreaking to know the boy had gotten so stressed he threw up. Dick felt a hole form in his gut, deeping with each approaching step. When he came upon the puddle of sick, his organs had all been carved out of him. At first he gasped at the color, it was pretty red which usually indicates blood. But then he remembered what they had for dinner and sighed.

It’s just the soup not blood

Dick felt a little relieved, but still pretty upset that Tim suffered so much tonight. Dick didn’t need to be a detective to deduce that the puke was in front of the room his brothers were resting in. He tried a few times to knock but always stopped before touching the wood, letting instead his arm not holding the tray to flop uselessly at his side. He knew he was stalling, he had to work up the courage to face his brothers

Especially after hurting Tim.

Ugh just do it idiot!

Dick gave a light knock, barely tapping his knuckles to the wood. He knew Jason would hear it if he wasn’t asleep.

*click*

That was definitely Jason flipping the safety off

Dick prayed there were only rubber bullets in the gun. Even if there were, he won't rush in. Jason would go berserk and the gunfire could scare or hurt Tim

At least he’s awake.

“Hhhhey Jay, it’s just your older brother Dick. I need to check on you and Tim, can I come in?”

Dick winced at his words. He tried to sound “normal” but it was hard to keep the tiredness and anxiety out of his tone. After a moment of silence he tried again.

“Come on Little Wing, I need to give Tim some medicine and make sure he’s okay.”

This time he could hear a little tiny bit of movement and a gentle hush. But without a verbal response or atleast the click of the safety back on, Dick knew he couldn’t go in.

Time to pull out the big guns

“Jason, if you don’t put that safety back on I will get Alfred. You should know Alfie is very tired and just laid down to rest,” Dick threatened.

Dick wasn’t planning on ever following through with his threat, but Jason didn’t need to know that.

*click*

Dick silently fist pumped the air in victory. Then he prepared his best calm and collected smile before opening the door.

“Also you can’t shoot me, it’ll scare Tim” Dick added quickly just in case.

Have you ever seen a mama cat protect her kittens? Like when she stays laying on the ground because her kittens are nursing? She first pulls her kittens close, then reaches out with a pawn and flashes her deadly claws? Basically telling you “don’t get any closer or I’ll scratch your eyes out”?

Well Jason was acting like a mama cat (minus the nursing part), except the kitten was Tim and the nails were a gun.

Jason’s glowing green eyes burned into his older brother. He was definitely still pissed, and very defensive of Tim. Dick would have to keep his movements slow and predictable, least be vaporized. Tim was still asleep, thankfully, Dick could barely see him past the wall of muscle that was Jason Todd. A single little pale arm was spread across Jason's stomach, resting peacefully still. Jason had sat up just barely enough to point a gun at the door and not dislodge the pale limb.

Dick held his smile as he closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off Jason. Once the door shut, Jason lowered the gun and set in on the bedside table. Dick felt a little spark of hope that his brother trusted him, well enough to put aside the weapon at least. Sure he used some guilt tripping to get into the space, but hey, Dick took the wins when he could.

“Hey Little Wing,” Dick grinned.

Jason let out a quiet growl, refusing to respond with any words. Keeping a snail’s pace, Dick approached, holding the tray steady in his hands.

“How is Baby Bird doing?”

Jason let out a huff and looked down at the sleeping boy. He ran one of his hands up the arm on his stomach. Starting at Tim’s finger tips, up to his shoulder, and ending at the boy’s cheek. Then Jason, then slipped his hand to cup the back of Tim’s head, letting his own lids fall just a bit with a soft look.

Despite Dick’s attempts at keeping his composure he did let out a little coo. Jason glared at him, looking more embarrassed than angry. Dick sat on the edge of the bed, making sure he wasn’t touching either of his brothers but was still close. He laid the tray off the side and pulled his knees to his chest..

“I’m sorry” Dick whispered, watching Tim’s body shift with each breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep him safe while you were gone. Thank you for calming him down, for taking care of him.” Dick could feel tears gathering in the side of his eyes. He felt so guilty it made him want to throw up. Jason huffed and looked towards the tray.

“What did Alfred prescribe to him?” Jason asked softly. He didn’t sound mad per say, but he was definitely still frustrated and disappointed in his older brother. Dick rubbed his eyes, then shook off the self loathing. He needed to make Tim the top priority.

He showed Jason each pill, making sure the man knew the name and dosage. Jason examined them with fierce scrutiny, even giving some a sniff every so often. When Dick was sure Jason was done, he showed the unopened package of crackers and bottle of electrolyte water. It was important that the food and drink were still sealed, Jason could trust it then.

At the first family dinner Dick ever had with Jason, Dick witnessed Alfred pour everyone water from a decanter except for the new Robin. Dick was confused when Alfred left with the decanter and came back with a plastic bottle of water. He showed Jason the seal, before handing it to the boy. Jason examined it closely, especially the seal. He blushed a bit when he caught Dick starring. The boy handed it back to his elder with a nod and Alfred filled Jason’s cup without batting an eye. Dick didn’t say anything during the meal, but gave his father a mean side eye when Jason wasn’t looking. Once his little brother left to sleep, he cornered Bruce and asked him what was going on. Dick expected he’d have to fight Bruce for any explanation, him and Bruce were still on shaky terms back then. But after a brief moment of hesitation, Bruce decided to answer.

“He grew up homeless, you can imagine some of the cruelty that boy faced. He learned that food and drink, especially from adults, could be tampered with. He is still scared that someone will drug him, hurt him. So to put his mind at ease we only give him sealed beverages and let him watch Alfred prepare meals. Honestly, him accepting food that didn’t come directly from an unopened package has only been a recent development,” Bruce explained in a calm tone.

Dick felt the color drain from his body and pool on the floor. His mind supplied horrible images of what the boy faced. Regret pressed his shoulders down as he thought of how dismissive he was to Jason when they first met. The kid deserved a place to feel safe and loved.

“Did he…Do you know if someone ever-“ Dick tried to ask, each word acid on his tongue.

“Dick, don’t ask me that. Jason decides who hears his story, not me. Please don’t question him on this, he is still just a child, an abused and scared child,” Bruce interrupted, starring Dick in directly in the eyes. Watching to see if his eldest son would dare try to argue.

Dick, at first, felt offended that Bruce of all people would assume Dick would bludgeon Jason with questions about his past. That he’d crack the kid open and rip out painful answers for his own curiosity.

But then he paused, because he was self aware enough to know he wanted to do just that. He wanted to know everything that hurt the boy before coming to the Manor. Dick could have tried to justify his questions by saying he just wanted to learn the boy's triggers or help him. But there was a selfish reason deep inside him, he wanted to know how Jason survived. He subconsciously was looking at an abused kid as a mystery to solve.

Dick decided at that moment to act as a brother, not a detective. To respect Jason’s quirks and slowly build trust with his first little brother.

All these later, the choice still paid off for Dick. The green in Jason’s eyes bled away as he checked the seals on the food and drink. He loosened his hold on Tim and looked to Dick.

“Why so much?” Jason asked quietly, gesturing to the pills.

“I had the same question. Alfred had just agreed to lie down, so called Dr. Thompkins instead. She told me everything was correct, that the medicine had been properly adjusted for Tim’s difference in age. She really pressed me to make sure Tim took all of it,” Dick said with a small smile.

“I mean, the pain meds seem reasonable, but the antibiotics are excessive,” Jason pondered. After a moment of silence, he concluded, “somethings up.”

“I tried to ask her for more details but I was pretty stone walled. I’m scared to find out what they aren't telling us,” Dick responded. The men stared solemnly as Tim began to rouse from sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason watched as his little brother’s glowing eyes snapped open. Tim’s tiny body jerked hard with the sudden return to consciousness. Jason tensed the muscles in his arm around the boy, but didn’t hold him down. He just made the hold more firm, trying to provide comfort and security. Jason frowned as Tim tried to grip the fabric of the man’s shirt. The grasping caused another jerk to run through Tim’s body accompanied by a tiny whine.

“Gentle, gentle” Jason whispered, pulling Tim’s hand away from the fabric. He kept his thumb on the middle phalanxes of Tim’s fingers, preventing them from bending forward. He couldn’t quite reach Tim’s thumb, but at least most of his digits were being protected. Dick tried to speak but was quickly silenced by a glare from the other man. Jason knew Tim was still gathering his bearings and could easily be overwhelmed. “Your fingers are still healing Baby Bird, gentle.”

Thankfully Tim didn’t resist the hold, he turned his face up to who was holding him. The little features showed confusion and fear.

“J...Jason...Robin...dream? Real?” the child breathed. The words quiet like the whistle of wind through leaves.

“Yes, I’m real. You're safe, we rescued you. You're in Gotham not the League,” Jason answered. When he felt Tim’s hand relax a bit, he gently guided the limb to his chest. He let the palm of Tim’s hand rest right over his heart, so the little bird could feel the calming rhythm. The glow in Tim’s eyes started to dull. After a few moments, Tim tried to say something but choked on air and let out a painful dry cough. Jason glanced at Dick, then signaled to the water bottle with his eyes. The man reached for the electrolyte boosted liquid and passed it off to Jason. After some adjusting Jason was able to open the bottle within Tim’s line of sight. Making sure he could see the seal break.

“Here, drink this, it will help you feel better,” Jason offered. He carefully brought the rim to the little bird’s lips. When he saw Tim open his mouth just a crack, he slowly tilted the bottle upward just enough to guide a steady trickle of water into Tim’s mouth. The first few swallows were small and hesitant. But then Tim’s eyes became a little clearer and started sucking in as much as he could. Unfortunately the relief of hydration caused the fourth Robin to forget he needed to breathe. So when the bird started coughing around the bottle. Jason quickly took it away.

“Woah slow down Tim,” Dick urged, his hands hovering close to the pair.

Jason quickly sat Tim up straighter and rubbed his back. Tim hacked painfully as he cleared his lungs.

Please don’t throw up again.

After a dozen coughs Tim took in a large breath and leaned his head on Jason’s shoulder.

“Ow” He murmured.

“Yeah, that didn’t feel too good huh?” Dick commented with a smile. Jason wasn’t sure if the man knew how patronizing he sounded. Tim had a grumpy little frown as he borrowed his face into Jason’s shoulder. He was no doubt trying to hide his blush, but his ears gave it away.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked after waiting a few minutes. Tim let out a little unhappy groan, and pulled away a bit. His deep blue eyes were a welcome sight to the other occupants of the room.

“Hurts,” Tim moaned.

“Well thankfully I’ve got some medicine to help with that,” Dick exclaimed. Jason rolled his eyes at how excited his older brother sounded to help the younger. After looking Dick up and down, Tim glanced at Jason again for confirmation that he was safe. Jason gave him a nod and that seemed like enough for Tim to stop seeing Dick as a threat. Dick offered a small portion of Tim’s medication, just some stuff he could take without any food in his stomach. With each pill Tim would check in again with Jason, the man would continue to nod back in response. Tim took more sips of water in between each dose, helping the pills wash down his dry throat and slowly rehydrate the rest of his body.

Dick offered Jason the package of crackers, which were once again opened in Tim’s line of sight. Jason snapped each cracker in half before offering it to Tim. It was probably overkill, but Jason didn’t want to risk the kid choking. The little guy seemed embarrassed to be hand fed, but he did accept the food. Thankfully color was starting to return to Tim's face. Once he had eaten enough to satisfy his older brothers, Tim found the energy to sit mostly on his own. Well he was still leaning on Jason, but Jason didn’t have to hold him upright.

“Now how do you feel?” Jason asked, looking for any signs of discomfort. The boy pursed his lips, and looked deep in thought.

“Fine”

Liar

Jason knew Tim liked to hide his discomfort from the other bats, but it felt especially upsetting that he did it as a kid. Kids should complain, they should be taken care of.

Jason had to take care of himself on the streets, but Tim had a home. He had affluent parents, who had the resources to take care of their blood. Tim had this air of confidence when he was older, one Jason attributed to being a spoiled rich kid. But in these recent years, Jason could tell it came instead from being forced to self sustain.

Rich kid, poor kid, an abused kid was an abused kid.

Jason hated himself for forgetting that.

“Alright kid, let’s finish up this medicine, okay?” Jason said, grabbing the last cup of pills.

“More, I need to take more?” Tim quietly whined. “I’m fine now. You should save it for someone who needs it.”

Jason wanted to agree that the kid probably didn’t need any more medication. But having both Alfred and Doc Thompkins say he needs them overrides the desire. The two elders were with holding something about Tim’s health, something that required the boy to receive intense care.

“Sorry Baby Bird, but you need to take them. Alfred said so and he always knows best,” Dick responded.

The child looked solemnly at the cup but ended up accepting the order. Tim made a face a few times while taking them, no doubt disliking the bitter taste. Dick was holding back coos, while Jason held back his laughter. Sleep grumpy Tim was cute and comical. After taking all his medicine, Tim let out a little huff.

“Better now, little guy?” Jason asked, cuddling Tim close. He could tell Dick was jealous he was missing out on snugglefest two of his little brothers were having, but this was his punishment for making Tim cry. Well Jason didn’t know if it was Dick directly, but he sure didn’t seem to have helped prevent it. Jason’s glare communicated that the other adult still had to keep his distance.

“Yeah, tired,” Tim murmured. He glanced at Dick then, shot Jason a pleading look. “Can we go back to sleep?”

“Wait a sec Baby Bird, I need to talk to you about Da-” Dick was cut off from whatever he was going to say, by an empty plastic bottle smacking against his forehead. ”Hey!”

“Out, Tim needs sleep,” Jason ordered. He laid back, pulling Tim gently with him. The kid let out a way too cute squeak. “I need sleep.”

“Jason I know things looked bad when you came home, but at least give me a chance to explain,” Dick said, rubbing his forehead where the bottle hit him. “I need to clear stuff up with the both of you.”

“Tomorrow” Jason hummed, letting his eyes fall closed. Well they weren’t really closed, Jason left a crack to still watch Dick, but it sent the message.

“Can you promise me you and Tim will still be here in the morning? Give us all a chance to figure this all out?”

Jason peaked at Tim from the corner of his eye, who could tell Jason was looking at him. It was gonna be the kid’s call. If he wanted to leave, they’d leave. Jason had a few safe houses nearby, that he was pretty sure Batman didn’t know about. They’d stay away as long as the kid needed, till he felt ready to face them.

“I ain’t promising you nothing, get out Dickwing. It’s beddy bye time,” Jason said with a big fake yawn.

“Jason, please” Dick begged.

Jason bristled, nothing pissed him off more than someone pushing his boundaries. Usually Dick was good at giving him space when he asked. Maybe it’s because Dick’s tired, maybe it was because Tim was with him, whatever the reason Jason was getting pissed. He let the green bleed just a bit into his vision and gave Dick a burn glare.

“Jason...” Dick hesitated.

Jason started to sit up, he’d force Dick to leave if he had too.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, okay? I’ll stay, but Jason should be able to leave if he wants to,” Tim proclaimed. “I’ll stay... Just let him go.”

Woah woah woah

Okay kid definitely miss read that side eye

“I’m not tryin to leave Baby Bird, not without you,” Jason quickly corrected. The confused look Tim gave in response made Jason queasy. “I’m not trapped here, and neither are you. If you want to stay and give these dickheads an opportunity to explain, we’ll stay. If you want to leave, take a break from their idiocy, and come back. I’ll make it happen. If you never wanna see them again, that works too.”

“Oh” Tim said, completely taken by surprise. It hurt to see the war of emotions wash over his young face. The kid needed a break from all this chaos. He needed some rest, some real sleep, the kind of unconsciousness not induced by extreme stress.

“We can decide in the morning Timbit, doesn’t have to be right now,” Jason offered.

“Jason…” Dick huffed.

“Dick, I’m giving you one last chance to walk out of this room before I make you” Jason hissed. Dick looked both defiant and heartbroken, Jason could tell he was calculating if he could defy the other man.

“W-wait, please don’t fight! I’ll stay, I’ll stay!” Tim cried, his voice shrill. Both men looked at the child in shock and guilt. Tim was shaking, his breath had become strained. Dick tried to reach out, but the kid flinched away, tiny eyes snapping in response. Jason smacked the hand away and pulled his frightened little brother close.

“Get the fuck out Dick,” Jason snarled, almost animalistic. He didn’t need The Pit to make him radiate murderous intent. His older brother’s presence was terrifying the younger and that was more than enough to make him see green. If Dick stuck around it would be out of his own selfishness, not care, and Jason would make him pay.

Dick to his credit did stand up, he offered a quiet apology and left. The man was probably going to find a hole to crawl into and cry till he drowned in his own tears. Jason didn’t care in the slightest, he had a hurt kid to comfort.

Chapter Text

Bruce opened the door to Damian’s room and was immediately being greeted by the family dogs, Ace and Titus. He had, moments before, knocked and received a quiet “come in” from Damian. The hounds gave Bruce a few curious sniffs and playful tail wags. Bruce gave them both a gentle pet, they were loyal Bathounds always ready to guard Robins. Bruce asked Damian to keep them in his room for a bit. The dogs loved everyone in the family and would never attack a civilian, but it seemed best to wait till Tim had settled in to reintroduce them. With a silent gesture Bruce directed Ace and Titus out of the room. With another silent command he told them to sit right outside the door, he wasn’t sure how talking Damian would go. While well trained enough to be trusted not to wander off, the dogs tended to become distressed when others fought around them. After giving them a quiet “good boys”, Bruce closed the door to the hallway.

Bruce then focused on his son sitting at an open window, facing the outside world. The third Robin had his arms crossed and resting on the window sill. Bruce thought Damian looked so young at that moment, sometimes it was easy for him to forget he was just thirteen.

Bruce walked into the room and sat on Damian's bed. Specifically on the corner closest to his son. Damian kept his back to his father, staring out into a cloudy night sky. Surprisingly Bruce didn’t feel awkward, he actually felt confident in starting the conversation with the little bat.

“Damian, while I’m not happy with you and Dick’s behavior at dinner. I’m here to listen, I want to understand what’s bothering you son,” Bruce said. He leaned back on his palms and studied the ceiling, giving the little bat time to respond.

“Drake looked like Mr. Abdallah,” Damian commented.

“Who is Mr. Abdallah?” Bruce asked.

“My math tutor when I was a child,” Damian answered, still not turning around. The eldest Wayne ran dozens of interpretations in his mind of what his son was trying to tell him.

Did they have the same physical features?

Maybe he’s drawing the comparisons because he found both of them frustrating?

Because both were older than him?

Perhaps he looks up to both of them?

Bruce reeled in his detective instincts, he knew assuming was a dangerous game when it came to his children.

“Tim, looks like your math tutor?” Bruce summarized, hoping Damian would clarify.

His son let out an irritated huff and scrubbed his eyes with his not bandaged arm.

“Mr. Abdallah was…Mr. Abdallah was patient with me, kind to me. He was the first person I dared to think of as a friend,” Damian’s voice wobbled a bit, he had to take a break to breathe. Bruce wanted to comfort the teen in some way, but he needed to let the boy finish. “He was also the first person I ever…killed. Grandfather ordered me to execute him after discovering he was a traitor.”

Oh Damian

“Before I killed him, he seemed at peace. His face was calm, he accepted he was going to die by my hand. Drake had the same expression when he was taken.” Damian continued, no doubt forcing his voice to remain leveled. Bruce couldn’t resist moving closer, his discipline did force his body to move slow. Once the man was sitting next to Damian, the teen continued to speak. “Drake himself gave up, surrendered. The fool was okay facing death or worse-,” Damian started shaking, the words he said next sounded painful to utter “-for me.”

Bruce gently ran his knuckles on Damian's closet arm, trying to comfort but not overwhelm the boy. Damian leaned sideways into his father’s chest, in response the bat adjusted his position in one fluid movement to hug the boy. The room was deathly quiet, only the barely audible whispers of the wind outside swept through the space. The silence was haunting, but was short lived.

“Why? Why would he do that? He threatened to s-slit his own throat if Ra didn’t stop h-hurting me,” Damian cried. Bruce shivered at the words, he’d see the footage from both Robin’s masks that night. He had numbed himself to what happened to focus on rescuing Tim. The way Damian has just sobbed with such pain broke through Bruce’s emotional barrier. Tim was ready to die for Damian, and Ra seemed ready to hurt, possibly kill, Damian to capture Tim.

I could have lost both of them

Bruce tightened his hold a little bit, his boys were so precious to him. He barely survived losing Jason, he’d be destroyed if he lost any of them again. Being Batman, allowing Robins to soar, put the ones he loved in danger. Regretting the cowl was not a new feeling for the hero, neither was the guilt that came with allowing his children to follow him. All of the Robins claimed that the title saved them in some way, but it also endangered them so much more. Like all distracting emotions, Bruce sealed away that guilt to focus on progression.

“I hated him, he hated me. Why would he do that to save me?” Damian sobbed.

“Because you’re brothers, you're family. We all want to protect each other. It shatters my heart that Tim gave himself up, that he threatened to ki-hurt himself, but I know he did it because he loved you. I don't think Tim hates you, and I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t hate him.”

Damian stayed silent, but Bruce could feel him still crying into his shirt.

“Damian,” Bruce cleared his throat before continuing, “I’m sorry.”

Be more specific Bruce, c’mon

But Bruce didn’t know what to apologize for, he knew he did something wrong, but what specifically?

“I’m sorry I-

Suddenly Damian shoved away from Bruce, his tear stained face morphed into anger.

“You, all of you, gave up on searching for him when we found that welp. All of you, ignore the sliver of doubt that he was our Drake. All of you are willing to risk our Drake being left behind. How can you claim that we are family, that we care for each other, when Tim might be being harmed at this very moment!” Damian exploded. He beat his hands against Bruce’s chest, not hard, but enough to show his rage, his agony. Bruce let him wail with both his hands and his cries for a few moments. Let his son release some of his painful pent up emotions. He, like the rest of the members of the manor, was extremely sleep deprived and stressed. Everyone had their breaking point.

Bruce then knew what he needed to apologize for.

“Damian” Bruce tried to interrupt but the boy kept sobbing and hitting. “Damian, please.”

But the boy wasn’t listening, Bruce knew it was time to stop this. He grabbed Damian’s cast first, holding it firmly but not putting too much pressure on the healing limb. Damian kept smacking with his free hand, still lost in his complete meltdown. It wasn’t till Bruce stopped his other fist that the teen finally closed his mouth and opened his eyes.

“You’re right, Damian, I am so sorry I ignored your concern. I’m sorry, I stopped searching for your brother without being a hundred percent sure our Tim had actually been saved. I promise you, I will keep looking, keep investigating, until there is no doubt. Till our Tim is home and safe,” Bruce assured, releasing Damian's arms. The man's hands moved to hold the boy’s cheek, cradling the beloved face of his son. “Tim is part of our family, my son and your brother. And family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

Damian’s face had softened while listening to his father speak, until the last sentence. Then the teenaged boy looked crossed.

“Did you just try to comfort me with a line from that animated film Richard tried to force me to watch? The one with the blue alien?”

Bruce looked dumb found before letting out a gentle laugh.

“Not intentionally, but I sure did,” he grinned. Damian scoot away from his father. Bruce knew it wasn’t because of any negative feelings, Damian just liked to have some personal space after emotional breakdowns. Damian clicked his tongue and rubbed his cast.

“I was going to accept your apology father. But after that, what would Todd say….cheesy line, I’m not so sure I should,” Damian smirked. Bruce rolled his eyes but held his own smile.

He’s really starting his “sarcastic teenager” phase

Bruce’s smile fell, he still had more he needed to discuss with Damian.

“Damian, I need something from you. I can’t dedicate myself to find out the truth about our Tim, if I have to monitor your interactions with our guest. He still could be our Tim, and even if he is not, he’s family now,” Bruce said with a serious look.

“Of course you’ve already decided to adopt another stray,” Damian huffed and crossed his arms.

“I’m pretty sure Alfred adopted him first this time. But I’m serious, you can’t try to antagonize him. You don’t have to pretend that he is your older brother, but please son, give him a chance as a person. I expect you to at least start treating him as a civilian. Specifically one who is a victim, who is scared and needs patience,” Bruce commanded, placing a hand on Damian's shoulder. “Can you treat that child with the bare minimum respect he deserves? Please, Chum, I need you to agree.”

Damian nodded, and Bruce prayed he was being serious.

“Am I still benched?”

“Yes, still a week for now. It can be shortened or extended based on your choices.”

Damian let out a little hiss, but accepted his punishment.

—————

Jason woke up before Tim. The presence of the child kept Jason’s mind clearer than usual. He scanned his surroundings, searching for any dangers he missed the night before. Once he knew there were no ninjas in the shadows, he decided to get up. Vigilante made sure his movements were slow so as not to wake Baby Bird, using his Robin training to slide smoothly away. As soon as Jason parted from his brother he covered the smaller form in a large blanket. Hoping the cloth would compensate for the lack of body heat. Jason then did the usual, brushed his teeth, washed his face, etc. He didn’t want to stray too far from Tim, only closing the bathroom door to use the toilet. He let his mind wander to the night before during his routine.

After Dick left with his tail between his legs, Jason reeaaalllyyy wanted to sleep. He had gotten some before, but man was he drained by the events prior. He was sure everyone needed some shut eye, especially the little tater tote laying next to him. The kid should have shut his eyes, and let slumber take over.

But Tim hadn’t relaxed, Jason could practically hear him thinking. The man was unsurprised when he heard a tiny voice ask him a question.

“Did I time travel?”

Ugggh

“I don’t got an answer for ya Timbo, let’s just sleep,” Jason mumbled in response.

“Okay…am I a clone?” Tim whispered, clearly not going to sleep.

“No Tim you're not a clone, now go to bed.”

“Sorry”

The boy waited a solid minute before asking another question.

“Is this an alternate dimension?”

“Not that I’m aware of Timbit. One thing I know for sure is that I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re both tired. We can figure out everything else tomorrow,” Jason groaned, purposefully lowering his volume with each word.

“Okay”

A few minutes passed, and Jason didn’t feel the kid next to him slacken at all. Sure Tim was not asking anymore questions, but he was still very much awake. Something still needed to be addressed.

“What’s wrong? Does something hurt?” Jason asked, giving the kid a little squeeze.

“No,” Tim answered too quickly.

“What’s keeping you up Baby Bird? Other than time travel, alternate dimensions, and cloning?”

“Um, well, B-Bruce said Damian was his son...but then at dinner Damian suggested L-lord Ra’s was his grandfather. So uh, is Damian your brother? Does the League work with Batman? I know you rescued me from them, but.... I’m so confused” the boy whispered, his body shivering a bit.

Ah, that’ll do it.

No wonder Timmers was terrified. Those fucking idiots, I leave the kid with them for one day and they scare the shit outta him. Of course it falls to me to clear things up.

Jason ran a hand over his face, sighing as he thought of how to word his response.

“I’m sorry” Tim whimpered, pressing closer to Jason.

“You’re fine kid, makes sense you’d be scared after hearing all that. Damian is Ra’s grandson, but he is also Bruce’s son and my bratty brother. He was raised by the League, but doesn’t work for them. Matter of fact, none of us are working for those assholes,” Jason said, petting the boy’s head. “I’ll make sure they all explain themselves tomorrow if you decide we should stick around. Remember what I told you earlier?”

“That I’m not in an alternate timeline?”

“No earlier”

“I’m not a clone”

“Earlier than that Tim.”

“Um ... that I probably didn’t time travel?”

“No you goof, that I’d protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m in your corner no matter what kid.”

“Oh” Tim muttered. The repetitive strokes of Jason’s hand and the reassurance slowly lulled Tim into slumber. Jason joined him soon after.

A knock at the door brought Jason back to the present. His first thought was to grab his gun, when you're a crime lord with a lot of enemies it tends to be your first thought. But Jason did not follow his first instincts, because he had a pretty good idea who was on the other side. After checking Tim was still asleep, Jason went to greet the knocker.

“Good morning Master Jason,” Alfred said, balancing a tray perfectly in his hands. The contents of said tray was almost identical to the one Dick brought before, this one had one additional cup of hot coffee. Jason prayed it was decaf or watered down, the kid would definitely fiend for it.

“Morin’ Alf”

“How is Master Tim?”

“Still sleepin’ like a log.”

“I see, I took the liberty of cleaning the vomit outside the door. Master Dick believes Master Tim was the source, do you concur?”

Jason recounted what had occurred the previous night after they’d left the dining room. Alfred was very still as he heard but how stressed Tim had been from the ordeal. Jason made sure to let the butler know Tim took all his medication, which seemed to loosen the older man up a bit.

Anger rekindled in his soul when he mentioned Dick begging them to stay. The younger man made it clear that no one would force Tim to stay if he didn’t want to.

Internally Jason prayed Alfred would not try to stop them.

After Jason finished his tale, Alfred let out a long breath. His deflation brought out the tired old wrinkles in his face. The older man was surprisingly understanding and accepting of Tim being so frightened of the family. He was supportive of Tim having the final say in where he would be staying. He did request that if they left, that they take enough medication to last a few months for Tim and that Jason would keep Alfred updated on Tim’s health.

After their brief but important discussion, Jason stepped back letting the butler in. Alfred set the tray on the bed and looked at the sleeping child with a tender gaze.

“I can sense you have questions for me Master Jason,” Alfred said in a hushed tone. Alfred had the best batsense in the family, it made Jason almost smile in response.

“The antibiotics, why such a large dose?”

He turned his eyes to Jason, his wary eyelids at half mast. The older man took a moment before speaking.

“Perhaps this conversation should continue a little away from Master Tim. I’d … like to allow him a few more moments of rest,” Alfred responded. He then gestured to the restroom. “We will leave the door open so we can both continue monitoring the lad.”

Okay now Jason was a little freaked out. What the hell was Alfred about to tell him? Whatever it was, it was bad, like superglue mixed with burn cream bad (don’t ask). Silently the pair moved to the other room. They stood with an awkward amount of space between them.

“Master Jason, what I am about to tell you is something I’d like you not to share with anyone else. Everyone is still recovering and adapting to Master Tim’s strange state. I plan to eventually inform the other members. I am telling you because I can no longer keep this secret and assure Master Tim receives adequate care. Will you agree to withhold this from the others, unless absolutely necessary?” Alfred asked.

“Jesus Alfred, what are you about to tell me?”

Alfred took a moment to look deep into Jason’s eyes. After confirming something in the gaze, he told the younger man what had happened to Tim Drake.

He told him Tim had been seriously injured during the year Bruce was believed to be dead. Ra's Al Ghuul had saved his life after endangering it. The surgery the lord ordered had been botched, leaving a large scar on the teen. But that wasn’t the only consequence, Tim now no longer had a spleen and was immunocompromised.

A lot of things clicked in Jason's head, scattered moments of memories snapping together like puzzle pieces. It made sense why Tim was such a neat freak when it came to blood and illness, even though his own room was a scattered hell of garbage. It made sense that Alfred would always give Tim extra reminders to take his medication on time. It made sense the teen never showered in the cave or allowed any bat or bird to help him out of his suit, even when injured.

And honestly, it made sense that Tim didn’t share any of it with Jason.

Didn’t make it sting any less to hear. Sting was an understatement, Jason wanted to rip his face off and scream into the sky. Yeah, that felt more accurate to the feeling.

Alfred’s voice slowly muffled as Jason glanced to check on Tim. He expected to see his little brother still shrunken and sleeping, but instead he saw teenage Tim. He was spread on the bed bleeding from his throat and gut. Wounds oozing crimson sluggishly, a young face laying wide eyed and staring directly at Red Hood. Eyes dead but still held so much fear. Jason couldn’t look away, he watched till his eyes grew dry. He could hear words echoing in his head.

“I don’t want to die, please Jason, please stop”

When he finally blinked, he was no longer looking at Tim, he was looking at the ground. At the bathroom tiles, an ivory white, without a single speck of dirt between them. His lips felt numb from lack of breath. A gentle tap against his cheek was the only other sensation his body could feel. The tapping followed a steady pattern and was slowly bringing Jason back to himself. When he looked up at the source of the touch he could see it was Alfred. With a deep inhale he Jason realigned himself, he realized at some point he had fallen to his knees and was leaning against Alfred’s leg.

“What?” Jason gasped, suddenly realizing he’s crying.

“I believe you had a panic attack Master Jason, which may have resulted in you fainting briefly,” Alfred stated. The butler helped the other man to his feet, holding him steady as he wobbled a bit. Jason tried not to lean too hard on Alfred when he was pulled into the butler’s careful embrace. The older man said some soothing words and guided Jason through grounding techniques till he could stand on his own.

Jason dared to look at Tim, praying what he saw before was just his own mind torturing him.

Tim was still shrunken and asleep, the relief almost made Jason start crying all over again.

“Are you alright Master Jason?”

Jason was very much not alright, but he was stable enough, so he nodded.

“What the fuck, who-who else knows?”

“Doctor Thompson and Master Bruce, though the latter was just informed last night,” Alfred answered, whipping away Jason’s tears.

Still kicking Bruce’s ass later

“S-so, he was-is he…what the fuck,” Jason sighed whipping his eyes. “This is all so fucked up A. I’m sorry I’m swearn’ so much but ... fuck.”

Holy shit, I am so gonna unpack all this later. Thank whatever is up there that I have Roy (and Kori when she gets back).

Fuck

Alfred smiled at the apology.

“Your language, while not my favorite choice of words, is understandable. I think there are a few extenuating circumstances at the moment. Thank you, Master Jason for everything you’ve done and will do for Master Tim,” Alfed said, patting Jason on the shoulder. “You are a kind and loving soul.”

Jason may have been blushing at the last sentence.

“Let me wake him up, he’ll feel safest with me,” Jason mumbled.

After receiving a nod from Alfred, Jason rested a hand on Tim's shoulder.

It was time to wake Baby Bird up.

Chapter Text

Tim felt a hand on his shoulder. He chose to ignore it, because he was still on the cusp of waking up. His consciousness was still in that pleasant warm fuzz that came with a good night sleep. He assumed it was Mrs. Mac, the Drake family’s part time maid. She was one of the few people Tim spent time with regularly, actually she might have been the only one. Stalking Robin and Batman probably didn’t count as “spending time with someone”. She was an old plump woman with a heart of gold and a talent for housework. Drake Manor was so big and filled with so many relics, you could pass it off as a museum. The artifacts were great at collecting dust and could easily be damaged by the passage of time. Mrs. Mac was like a Goddess when it came to cleaning, the Drake’s collection would be eaten by moths or simply rotted away without her. The maid was also tasked to take care of the one life that haunted the halls of history, Tim. She would cook him meals and put him to bed whenever she could. The Drakes made it clear she was only welcomed in the manor three days a week. But even with limited time she could usually balance her care of the Drake's heir and home, each shift.

But sometimes, care for the boy and the treasures would conflict. The family manor had to be kept cold to preserve some of the more delicate pieces. Tim would have to wear thicker clothing indoors to avoid the chill. But sometimes that wasn’t even enough, sometimes Tim would get sick and the cold would only make things worse. Multiple times the maid begged Tim’s parents to allow her to come more frequently or atleast raise the temperature when little Timmy was sick.

She was only ever met with denial and threats.

That’s okay though! Ms. Mac would just give Tim more layers or cook him warmer meals. She didn’t need to check on him everyday. It was fine, really, Tim was a big boy and he could take care of himself!

“Tim, Timmers wake up kid” a masculine voice whispered. It didn’t sound like Mrs. Mac, Tim wondered if she had a cold. Tim turned away from the nudge.

Nooooooo

“Five more minutes Ms. Mac,” Tim mumbled. Just the act of speaking brought Tim closer to full consciousness. He started feeling the aches and pains, his slumber had suppressed. He just wanted to go back to sleep, being awake was a pain (in more ways than one). He covered his head with his arm and turned into the pillow. The voice was muffled and Tim contemplated fake snoring. When someone tried to touch him again, he whined sharply, halting the foreign contact.

“Stop it, please” Tim begged. Tim felt the hand flinch away in response, the boy smiled to himself. There was some more mumbled chatter, Tim let himself sink back into the bed.

“Baby Bird it’s just me, Jason. You know R-Robin,” the voice assured. The speaker stumbled over the mention of Tim’s favorite hero.

Maybe I should wake up

Tim dragged his consciousness out of the cloud, but couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. He felt groggy and sore, he instantly regretted choosing to wake up.

Then he smelled it.

A scent he was all too familiar with, a rich almost nutty aroma.

Tim jerked into a sitting position, his eyes shooting open with a smile.

“Coffee!” Tim yipped. His joy was short lived though, his body responded with angry agony shooting through his body. Tim cursed himself and let out a painful whine. He was ashamed that he hurt himself again while waking up. Why hadn’t he learned from the first time?

“Christ kid!” Jason cursed, nearly spilling the coffee cup all over the bed. His reflexes were fast enough to stabilize the cup and put it aside.

Alfred quickly moved to Tim’s flank. He first adjusted the pillows behind the boy, then slowly guided him to lie back. Tim uttered a few apologies, which were quickly shushed by the butler.

“Perhaps using coffee was a mistake,” Alfred sighed. He gave Tim a gentle pat on the head. “I underestimated your excitement towards the possibility of caffeine.”

“You are such a coffee gremlin,” Jason snickered while giving the boy a wary glance. Tim blushed deeply at the teasing, thankfully it seemed like neither men were upset with him.

Tim still wanted to apologize more, but he held his tongue. The adults gave the boy some time to stabilize and have a few sips of water.

”How are you fairing this morning, Master Tim?” Alfred asked.

Gross, Tim felt gross. His mouth was dry, a bitter taste resting on his tongue. He could feel some plaque that had built up in his teeth from lack of brushing. Speaking of not brushing his hair felt wet with grease. His face felt pretty greasy too. The spot where bandages met flesh where scratchy, the rest of his skin had a grimy slimy feeling. Eye crust made him want to rub his eyes and his boot felt scratchy.

“I’m-“ Tim started.

Tim was planning to say “I’m fine,” but then he remembered what Bruce told him in the medical bay. He didn’t want to go against Batman’s wisdom any more, but he also didn’t want to be a bother either. The initial pain was subsiding, sure his previous injuries still pulsated with a vengeance and his entire body had a dull ache, but it was bearable…mostly. Tim realized he was taking too long to fully answer. His mind whipped back and forth, trying to find a way to be honest and unburdening.

Should I say I'm okay? No, that's just as bad as saying I’m fine.

Maybe I could say sore? No, that might make them worry!

Ahhh!

What do I tell them?

What should I tell them!?!

Tim's mind was spiraling out of his body, he had to say something. The longer he waited the more troublesome his silence became.

“- alive!” Tim blurted out, louder than what was appropriate indoors. His parents would skin him he they heard him respond to a question like that. Jason chuckled and Alfred sighed in response. Tim wished he was still asleep, because the waking world was quickly becoming a nightmare. Not a scary one, more like an embarrassing one, like dreaming you went to school without any pants.

“While I’m elated you are indeed alive, Master Tim, I must inquire further. Is anything causing discomfort?” Alfred asked.

Tim knew he couldn’t weasel out of telling them about his suffering now. So he vaguely described his condition only for Jason to probe him for specifics. Tim couldn’t deny Robin, so he continued to answer honestly. By the time both men were satisfied with the boy’s answers, Tim's face had grown a soft shade of pink.

The color only darkened as he, once again, had to be hand fed crackers and medication. Jason made comments about feeding him like a Baby Bird, which in turn made Tim squirm. The hero even broke the crackers half before letting Tim have them.

Just because they called him a baby didn’t mean he was! But Tim couldn’t deny it was nice to have them care for him.

After medication, light food, and water, Tim felt so much better. Still gross and sore, but he had a little more energy.

Know what would give him more energy?

Coffee!

Tim glanced at the cup of liquid brown gold resting on the side table. His mouth watered just thinking about drinking it. It had been way too long since he ingested some.

“Can I have some of your coffee Jason? Please?” Tim begged, giving his best puppy dog eyes. Jason rolled his own eyes and avoided catching Tim’s pleading stare.

“It’s not even mine,” Jason grumbled.

Even better!

“Oh! Okay can I have some still? Please?”

“Master Tim, you may have a sip after you brush your teeth,” Alfred said, picking up the drink.

Easy

“Yes! Sure thing! Thank you Alfred” Tim grinned. That seemed easy enough to him, hopefully he can have a full cup later. Alfred pulled out a Robin themed toothbrush and Superman themed toothpaste. Tim was surprised Bruce let the butler have anything Superman themed in his house. After cleaning his teeth (with Alfred assistance)Tim was given a small sip. He would have gulped it all down in one go, but the butler only tipped the cup enough for him to barely slurp.

Tim savored that sip, its warmth spreading across his tongue, a familiar yet comforting bitterness. He could tell right away it was a dark roast, the taste was strong and potent. He had to swallow it eventually and was sad to have it leave his mouth.

“French Roast,” Tim said out loud.

“Why yes Master Tim,” Alfred responded. He sounded both impressed and exhausted.

“Jesus kid,” Jason huffed, hiding a smile.

Tim puckered his mouth, there was something wrong with the after taste.

“Decaf?” Tim questioned, knowing the answer already.

Decaf does still have some caffeine, but not as much as Tim liked. Half the reason he liked the brew was that wonderful chemical. It filled his body with a pleasant buzz of energy.

“Yes Master Tim, I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Someone so young should not be drinking this at all. But decaf is my peace treaty for this disagreement between us,” Alfred sighed.

“Thank you Alfred,” Tim quickly added, trying not to sound ungrateful.

Wonder what I have to do to earn the full cup?

“You are welcome, Master Tim. The rest of the cup you can earn by washing up and getting dressed.”

Part of Tim wanted to ponder if Alfred could read minds. Part of him debated if he should say something weird in his head to test. But that section of his mind was overwhelmed with horror.

Wash?

Washing usually meant water. Water meant -static-

Once again Tim's mind was halted. He felt the unique bubbling feeling in one’s sinuses, caused by water entering one’s nose. It burned as he exhaled through his nostril, trying to push the water that somehow found itself within. But there was no water, only air escaped him.

“I-I’m actually not that dirty. I think I can just take a bath t-tomorrow,” he assured, trying to sound relaxed. When Alfred responded with a raised eyebrow, Tim sniffed his own pits to make a point. “I don’t even smell that bad.”

“I see, Master Tim. I am sorry but your hygiene is a serious matter. If you are not kept somewhat clean, you risk infection or further aggravating your wounds. Even if you don’t feel…dirty, we need to take precautions.”

“Can’t I just wipe down with baby wipes or a wet washcloth? Please?” The last word Tim uttered was almost a sob. He couldn’t keep up the facade.

“Tim?” Jason asked, drawing the boy’s attention. Tim didn’t realize the edges of his vision were turning green. The young man gently took Tim’s hands and used his thumbs to rub smooth circles on to the inside of the child’s wrists. It was a strange feeling, not a bad one, kinda tingly? It was such an odd sensation that it helped Tim focus on what was real.

“You're okay Baby Bird,” Jason assured, pulling away when Tim seemed a little more settled. “What’s going through your head kid?”

“I-I ... the water, I don’t. I can’t go back, and please don’t make me,” Tim cried, wiping away his tears with the back of his hands. He wasn’t at the League of Shadows anymore, he knew that. He was in Batman’s home and Robin would protect him. But the thought of a bath, immersing himself in water, sent him back to his imprisonment. “I know it’s stupid to be scared of a bath, but it feels ... scary. I think, no, I know Lord Ra’s did something to me, to make me afraid.”

Jason gave him a thoughtful look before making a response.

“I used to be scared of water too,” Jason whispered.

“Really?” Tim whispered back. “But I saw you jump into Gotham Bay to save drowning civilians, remember when Killer Croc sank that fancy cruise ship? Or what about when you saved the CEO of Batburger? Back when Joker chained him to the bottom of the pool.”

“It was after all that, Tim” Jason took in a huge breath before continuing. “I was…I was taken by the League too.”

“No,” Tim gasped.

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them they glowed a familiar green. Tim remembered seeing them glow before, but it was like his mind told him not to pay attention to it. To not even think about it

Don’t think about it

No

No, I need to!

In that moment, the wall of static lowered in his mind. Not enough for Tim to climb over, but enough for the boy to reach over and snag a missing piece of his thought process. It wasn’t without consequence, the wall had barbed wire over the top, Tim could feel each scrape inside his skull. But he endured the pain, the fear. He needed to be able to think about it!

“They put you into the water too?” Tim asked, his eyes beginning to match Jason’s hue. He couldn’t recall what the water was called or what it did, only that it was dangerous magic. Dangerous magic that makes your eyes glow sick green and change your body.

His heart shattered when Jason nodded in response. His Robin suffered the same pain he did.

“I was scared just like you, I understand you,” Jason told him. He then took Tim’s hands once again to draw circles on the boy’s wrists. “I have an idea we can try, will you give it a chance if I promise to be with you?”

“What is it?” Tim asked.

“How about a shower?” Jason answered with a smile.

———————

Jason meant what he said, he understood Tim’s fear.

After the water of the Lazarus Pit filled his lungs, forcing him to breath, he started choking. Faceless servants from the League pulled him out before he died all over again. Jason saw entering water like entering hell after that. In his half crazed haze he refused to bathe or allow anyone to clean him. Even when Jason was conscious enough to recognize the uncomfortableness that came with living in one’s own grime, the only water he’d accept was in small cups to drink. One day Jason woke up to warm water surrounding him, and a few servants were trying to force him to bathe. The lucky ones had their necks snapped, the unlucky ones ended up as smears on the walls.

Talia al Ghul was both impressed and displeased with him. She told him if he wanted revenge he needed to take care of himself. The bloody filthy beast could only go so far. So Jason forced himself to slowly wash away the red stains of death off himself under a gentle stream of water.

Back then Jason forced himself to shower out of spite for the third Robin. Now he was helping the little bird into one out of love.

Funny how life worked like that

Jason found himself standing in the Batcave communal shower, waiting for Tim. With bribery of coffee and leaning into Tim’s hero obsession, Alfred and Jason were able to convince the child to try showering in the cave. Jason also reminded the child they could leave after he was clean.

The room was large to say the least, five faucets on each side with extendable curtains for those who wanted privacy. Off White tiles, impossibly polished to perfection, lined the floors and walls.

Jason felt awkward waiting in the room alone, wearing nothing but a black pair of swim trunks. Usually he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about showering nude with anyone in the family. Neither did most of the family as well. Dick never really cared about communal washing, he had been raised in a freakin circus. The troupe had lived in close quarters with one another. Damian was raised by a murderous ninja cult. He’d seen bodies ripped open in various states of undress and was mostly desensitized to the human body as a whole. He was a little shy at first but later found the use of curtains impractical. While Cass had a similar upbringing, she acted more like Dick.

Younger Jason was hesitant at first, when he started out as Robin he always used the curtains, it helped him feel more safe. It was only after his death that he felt comfortable to go without the cloth.

Even though the curtains were rarely used, they remained in the decontamination area. Everyone had bad nights, Everyone had trauma, sometimes you don’t want to be perceived by anyone. It was an unspoken rule not to ask why someone decided to pull out the curtain or try to enter their space when it was up.

The only members who didn’t communally shower were Bruce and Alfred, both preferring to clean up after the youngsters were done.

Oh, and well Tim.

Tim hadn’t showered in the cave for years.

Because he doesn’t trust you

Jason shrugged at his thoughts. Yeah, Tim had every right to avoid being vulnerable around Red Hood.

So back to the swimsuit thing, Tiny Tim didn’t have the memories of them all being family. So being naked was a no go. Alfred suggested they both wear trunks during the cleaning.

Jason perked up when he saw Alfred wheel Tim through the doorway. The sight of the child caused two possible reactions to clash in Jason’s head. They wrestled like two burly men trying to win the world championship title. In one corner, the urge to smile and laugh. Tim looked silly, he had big plastic mittens over his hands to protect his rebandaged fingers and a deep red blush. He looked like a disgruntled baker planning to go for a swim. Seeing Alfred give him Superman themed trunks was icing on the cake. In the other corner, the urge to stare in horror and burn the world in retribution. Tim had a lot of scars, they all did. Scars from bullets, blades, glass, rusty nails, you name it! But Tim, right now, had so many and he was so young. Seeing the bruises on Tim’s ribs and ankle definitely didn't help.

Usually the scar on the boy’s neck was the one Jason gaze was drawn too, but the scar Alfred warned him about, was something else. Jason knew he couldn’t stare, couldn’t ask, so he allowed the urge to smile to win the fight.

“How's it going Baby Bird? Or should I say Baby Lobster,” Jason laughed.

“I am not a lobster!” Tim shrieked.

“I don’t know, you almost as red as one”

“If I’m a lobster you’re a skunk!”

Heard that one before

“You know what, you are not a lobster, that’s too big. Honestly you’re more like a crawfish or shrimp.”

They went back and forth until Alfred reminded them that there was a task at hand. Tim’s expression went from playful to stiff.

“Let’s take things slow,” Jason said, turning on a shower head on the other side of the room. Tim jumped and the rim of his eyes began to turn green. “You don’t have to go in right now, I just want you to get used to the sound.”

They stood there a bit, letting the sound of the spray settle into the background. When the green was no longer visible in Tim’s eyes, they moved on to the next step. Jason reached a hand underwater, watching Tim's nervous reaction. But the younger one didn't say anything so Jason continued.

“The nice thing about showers instead of baths is that you can walk out whenever you want.”

Jason stepped into the spray, showing that the liquid didn’t melt him like the Wicked Witch of the West.
“You’re not trapped. The water doesn’t surround you, it just runs off you.”

Jason exited the stream. He then approached and kneeled in front of his younger brother.

“Want to try?”

Tim gave Jason a wary glance then bit his lip. He agreed just to dip his toes in to start. Alfred brought a plastic folding chair and positioned it just out of the water’s range. After the child was transferred from the wheelchair, he hesitantly let the tip of his big toe touch the water. When it first made contact, Tim jerked back hard and almost fell out of the chair. Thankfully Alfred caught and steadied him. After a few breaths, Tim tried again. Jason hated how distressed the boy looked but knew Tim had to get past this. Progress was made thankfully. Tim didn’t flinch away, he let his entire foot enter the stream.

“Good job, Master Tim,” Alfred praised.

“Yeah, good job Baby Bird,” Jason joined.

Tim gave a wobbly smile, then stretched a little more of himself forward. It warmed Jason’s heart to see Tim’s confidence build. While the boy’s posture loosened, his face looked determined.

“Would you help me stand up, please?” Tim asked Jason.

There's that Robin bravery.

After a brief discussion, it was decided Jason would help Tim stand on his uninjured foot and Alfred would give him a quick scrub down. As soon as Tim's head was under the shower, he let out a little whine. Jason paused, worried that things were becoming too much for the boy. He tried to return Tim to the chair.

“Don’t put me down! I have to do this,” Tim cried.

Once Tim was completely under the stream, Alfred began to scrub him down. Tim leaned heavily on Jason, crying fat tears with his eyes shut.

“You’re doing so well,” Jason cooed while holding his brother in a half hug.

“Yes, yes Master Tim we are almost done,” Alfred assured.

After washing out Tim’s hair, they shut the water off and sat Tim down on the chair. Alfred threw a large towel over the boy’s shoulders. Tim rolled up in it like a sad little burrito. His eyes red from crying, he pouted as Alfred patted him dry.

“Coffee?” He whined.

“After you are dressed Master Tim. Master Jason, why don’t you get dressed as well.”

“Thanks Alfie, good job bud,” Jason praised, rubbing Tim’s head through a towel. The little sad blanket creature huffed as Jason left to change.

“A full cup?” Tim whispered.

“Yes, Master Tim.”

“Not decaf?”

“No, Master Tim.”

“What about half caf?”

“Perhaps, Master Tim.”

Jason couldn’t help but smile.

———————————————

Damian had been first to the breakfast table, followed by a mopey Grayson. His eldest brother mumbled an apology for pushing Damian’s buttons the previous night, then shuffled to his seat. Grayson huffed dramatically and flopped into his chair. He then pressed his forehead to the table in front of him. Damian told the pathetic man he was forgiven, then returned the apology for being unnecessarily combative. Grayson responded with a thumbs up, but didn’t raise his head.

Before he could ask why the man was so despaired. Father entered the room, he stared awkwardly at his deflated first Robin. When he gestured towards Grayson, looking to Damian for answers. Damian only responded with a shrug. Father sat down stiffly, calculating how to best approach his eldest child. Damian could only roll his eyes, even though his father was able to approach him last night, it seemed Batman still suffered from emotional constipation.

Dick turned his head towards Father and mumbled a greeting before turning his face back into the table.

“Good morning, uh rough night?” the older man asked.

“Jason’s mad at me, I messed up and Tim got caught in the middle. I bet the two of them have already left,” Grayson grumbled into the wood.

“Actually Alfred is with them right now. He messaged me they are done showering in the cave and will be joining us shortly.”

Showering in The Cave? How odd, there are plenty of showers in the manor.

Grayson shot up, looking equal parts surprised and relieved.

“Oh thank fuck” the younger man whispered. He ran his hands over his face, and sat back in his chair. Damian clicked his tongue before speaking.

“Pennyworth would scold you for such vulgar language so early in the day. Now that we know the status of those three, where is Gordon?”

“She’s in some corner of the cave, she threw a shoe at me when I tried to make her take a break,” Grayson whined, slumping over again. “Everyone hates me.”

“Such dramatics” Pennyworth chimed in, entering the room. Behind him, Todd was pushing a nervous Drake in a wheelchair. Everyone at the table's attention was drawn to the white haired boy, who in response wiggled under their gaze. His hair was noticeably wet and he was holding a mostly empty coffee cup to his chest.

Now why on earth would Pennyworth give a child caffeine?

Todd barely glanced at Damian before glaring daggers into Grayson, then swords into Father.

Little Drake scanned the room, biting his lip before pulling on Todd’s sleeve. Todd’s eyes were so much softer when they met Drake’s. The boy cupped his mouth and Todd leaned down to hear his whispers. Todd furrowed his brow in response to the child’s words. After confirming something between each other, Todd wheeled Drake over to Damian. He removed the chair next to the young bat. Damian was puzzled by the action till Drake was wheeled to sit directly right of Damian.

Damian clicked his tongue and Todd glared at him, a warning so firm it almost made Damian shiver.

“Um,” the nervous welp started, “Damian…”

Civil, you just have to be civil.

The teen gave a hum in response.

“I ... um, wanted to apologize for last night.”

Grayson tried to say something, but Todd, using his years of stealth training, reached across the table and covered Grayson’s mouth. The man put a finger to his lips, all while the unaware Drake spoke to Damian.

“I’m sorry I was so disrespectful and fearful of you. I want to judge you by your character, not your origins. Wait, sorry, judge sounds mean, I um...”

The flustered child moved his hands while speaking, then pushed his palms into his own eyes. Damian was almost concerned at the amount of pressure the child was applying to his face. Almost…

With a lurch forward, Drake was suddenly staring face to face with Damian. There were only inches between them, the younger boy’s eyes determined. Damian pulled back a bit, surprised and uncomfortable by the closeness.

“Let’s start over, please?” Drake pleaded.

Did you know scientists estimate there are eighty six billion neurons (brain cells) in the human brain?

You’d think with all those cells, Damian’s brain could construct an answer. But it didn’t, no it seemed the only signal his brain would send was to drop his jaw a few centimeters in shock.

Todd and Grayson (through Todd’s hand), snickered at the display. Damian clicked his tongue shooting them both a harsh glare. Drake backed away the look of determination fading into shyness. He let his eyes fall away from Damian, a small frown appearing on his face. Damian conceded internally that Drake's reactions to the sudden reveal of Damian's bloodline was understandable, especially since his grandfather was the one to imprison the boy. Damian definitely did not feel guilty, no not at all. He decided he’d just pity Drake with his forgiveness.

“I accept your apology, I hold no ill will towards you” Damian stated.

Bruce nudged Damian’s shin. He glanced at his father and sighed, he had to be civil.

“And I apologize to you, Drake, for upsetting you” Damian mumbled. Drake's expression ignited into happiness, his smile a flame that warmed something inside Damian. The younger child quickly accepted his apology. The teen hoped that would be enough to satisfy the adults around him.

Then Grayson kicked Damian’s leg. The fourth Robin snapped his head to the first, aggravated by the assault. Grayson smiled back innocently, Todd had long since removed his hand from the fool's face. Damian wished Todd’s hand would have melded over the grin permanently, then both men would be less annoying.

They’d be too busy stumbling over themselves to pester the rest of us.

“And we can...”start over” as you suggested,” Damian conceded.

“Thank you! Thank you! Okay, I’m Timothy Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tim beamed. The child was more genuine with this introduction. The rehearsed and professional facade was nowhere to be found. Once again, Damian was caught off guard. The teen blushed a bit and turned away from the blinding inferno Drake’s smile had become.

“Damian, j-just call me Damian,” the fourth Robin stammered.

“Guess the brat does have a heart,” Todd snickered.

“Ahh Dami, you're so sweet!” Grayson praised.

“Silence! Both of you, I will have your tongu-” Damian voice suddenly dropped to a lower tone. He froze in horror.

The room went silent for a few minutes, then, of course, Grayson had to be the first to speak.

“Oh Baby Bat, was that your first voice crack?”

As the room exploded with laughs and chaos, everyone’s phones pinged with a message from Oracle.

O: CAVE NOW

O: DO NOT BRING TIM

Chapter Text

Bruce thought he was the first one to check his phone, but the way Alfred gave him a knowing look, proved his guess wrong. After years of living together, the family could tell each other so much through nonverbal cues. Right now Alfred was almost completely still, except for his right pointer finger crossing his middle. It meant the butler was okay with staying behind, but wanted Bruce to send him updates on what he found.

Bruce sighed as he watched Damian and Dick wrestle over the table. The second attempt at a family sit down meal was up in flames. At least Tim didn’t seem distressed, in fact he was laughing along with Jason. It seemed the two were making bets on who would give up first. As much as Bruce loved watching his boy's relationships bloom, answering Oracle's message was top priority.

Bruce knocked his knuckles five times on the table and coughed. It was one of many signals he had taught all his Robins over the years. This one meant, “make an excuse to leave, regroup at cave.” He added a low grunt at the end to tell them “act natural, civilians are watching.” To the untrained eye, it would have seemed his sons were ignoring their father’s message. But they had heard it loud and clear, and through their own micro movements were arguing who would stay back with Tim. A raise of an eye brow and a wiggle of nose later, it seemed some consensus was made.

Good, someone needs to stay with Tim.

Bruce had a few theories on why Oracle explicitly told them not to bring Tim, but he trusted her judgement.

“I have lost my appetite with all this foolishness. My apologies to Drake for my brother’s foolishness. Perhaps later we can share a meal, hopefully by lunch these children will remember they are men,” Damian huffed while walking out of the room.

“Dami, wait come back! Puberty is a completely normal experience, I’m sorry I laughed at you! Gotta go Tim, we can check in later,” Dick shouted running after Damian. Tim looked dumbstruck at the excluding escaping figures. Bruce decided to take the opportunity to follow.

“Sorry chum, I’ve gotta break them up. Rain check, okay?”

“I understand” Tim responded, he was hiding his disappointment too well for someone his age. It made Bruce hesitant.

Jason came to the rescue, messing with Tim’s hair and drawing the boy’s attention away.

“Eh, we don't need 'em, Timbo. Let's have breakfast. Alfred makes killer pancakes. Those bozos are lame anyway,” Jason teased. Tim seemed to respond positively, so Bruce left after his sons.

The trio broke into a run as soon as they were out of earshot of the dining room. Wordlessly Dick passed Damian, beating the duo to the office. When the pair arrived, they paused, sharing a glance before entering the cave.

Dick was crouched in front of Barbra, she was leaning on his shoulder. Her face was hidden and she was exchanging whispers with Dick. They were together in front of the Bat Computer, the screen illuminating their embrace. Bruce made eye contact with the oldest Robin, he looked concerned but not panicked, so the older man decided Barbra was unharmed. Well, at least physically, she was crying judging by the micro shakes she made.

Damian paid them no mind as he raced to see what was on the computer. His brow furrowed, his eyes darted across the screen. Bruce joined him, staring at a list of folders stretching down the display.

“These are all about Drake?” Damian shuddered. Barbra’s voice hitched and she ripped her gaze to the teen.

“No, get Damian out of here now!” Barbra roared, shoving Dick away. “He can’t see this! Fuck, I used the wrong emergency channel! Dick get him out now!”

Without a second thought Dick scooped up his younger brother and darted to the cave’s entrance.

“Let me down! Let me down this instant Grayson! I need to know!” Damian screamed, struggling to escape Dick’s hold. The older man overpowered him, flipping the child over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Within seconds they were out of the cave.

The combination of the disaster in front of him and Oracle being so disturbed she mistaken what channel she was using, fed the dread in Bruce’s gut. He focused on the display, reading the names on the folders which were typed in ironically green text.

Three were labeled Treatments, Interviews, and Results, clearly describing some sort of experiment. There were also more vague but expected ones like General and Excerpts. But then there were some disturbing ones. Reading each one sent a chill down Bruce’s spine; Incidents, Exploitable, Sensitive, and Triggers.

Worst of all there were two folders, labeled something so terrifying that Bruce had to look away. He had no doubt these were why Barbra ordered Damian to leave.

Suicide Attempt 1

Suicide Attempt 2

“Suicide?” Bruce blurted, he couldn’t hear himself over the ringing in his ears.

Bruce’s brain refused to acknowledge what the word meant at first. It wasn’t possible, sure every one of his Robins, his children struggled with their mental health, but doing that. That was something Bruce never wanted to consider anyone in his family doing. In Gotham they encountered many individuals attempting or at least considering killing themselves. Sometimes it was civilians, sometimes it was criminals, either way the heroes did whatever they could to make them reconsider. Most of the time they successfully talked down those who wanted to take their own lives. Batman had made sure each of his Robins had the talking points to why taking one's life was a mistake memorized. They had run drills and medical training on what to do if the victims tried to go through with the act.

Even when they failed to stop someone hurting themselves, he hoped his sidekicks had seen that the choice to give up only made things worse. That it left no space for growth and healing, it just ended. Then those who were connected to the victim, were scarred for life. Left asking what they could have done and blaming themselves for something they could not control.

Even if things were hopeless, death was not the answer.

He explicitly told them that if they were taken or tortured, the answer was to give away any secret necessary to survive. Most of all, Batman promised he would come for them. That if there was no way out, no way to escape, the most important thing to do was to survive. Survive, because Batman would never give up on you and was coming to save you.

But words and promises are cheap, Batman was too late to save his second Robin. Bruce was too late to find Jason. And now, he may have been too late to save Tim.

What did they do to him?

What did they do to my son?

What did that monster do to make my boy want to die?

“Goddammit Bruce, we can’t both break down right now!” Barbra ordered, jerking Bruce’s collar down. She had rolled over to the man when he was lost in his thoughts. “We need to keep it together.”

“It says suic-“ Bruce started, only to be interrupted by Oracle.

“It says attempt, so not successful. Whatever happened he didn’t succeed in killing himself. It didn't kill him.”

She was right, thank god, she was right. Bruce’s higher brain took over, his detective skills flared to life. He put his emotions, no matter how painful, aside.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, placing a hand on Barbra’s shoulder. “I'm sorry I lost myself a second there. Have you looked at any of these yet?”

Barbra sighed and leaned back.

“I watched the … attempts, I needed to know he didn’t actually die. He lived but” Barbra trailed off.

“They’re bad” Bruce followed.

“No shit they are bad, fucking hell Bruce. But he lived, that's all I can hang onto right now.”

Bruce pondered what to say or do next. It felt like years before he made a decision, when in reality it was less than a minute.

“You’ve worked so hard since Tim was taken. I can never express how grateful I am that you are a part of this family and have protected all of us for so many years.”

Silent tears went down the woman’s face, her eye bags puffy with stress. Bruce couldn’t help but try to calculate how long it had been since she had last slept. Let’s just say it was too long.

“You’ve done your job. You cracked the lock on this bank of information, now it’s time for me to sort through the rest of it. Please Barbra, rest for a bit. Go find Dick and be there for each other."

The woman had resistance burning in glare, but all Bruce did was wait till the muscles in her face relaxed with exhaustion. She had done enough, it was Bruce’s turn to bear the burden.

“Okay, keep me updated,” she mumbled and wheeled away. Bruce nodded and watched her leave. Once he was sure he was the last person in the cave he gave a command.

“Computer, lock down cave.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian was fighting for his life! Well not truly, he was more fighting for freedom from Grayson’s grasp. Damian wanted to see those files, he didn’t get much of a look before Gordon ordered him out. All he saw was a folder labeled Treatments and another labeled Interviews. He vaguely saw one that might have been labeled Triggers but his vision was twisted by Grayson rudely snatching him.

Grayson had the absurd ability to keep anyone from escaping his limbs. As Nightwing it manifested in being excellent at pinning, as Grayson it manifested in “octopus hugs.”

Damian wiggled, squirmed, and punched with his unburdened hand, but nothing seemed to work. It was like the man had grown extra arms. By the time Damian was starting to feel tired he was deposited in a chair in the library. Right away Damian tried to get away but then Grayson stared at him dead in the eyes.

At that moment Damian was Robin and Grayson was Batman again. The eyes of his mentor telling him to stay put and under no circumstances try to leave. Effectively the man had pinned Damian down with his eyes instead of his arms. There was no escape so Damian looked away first.

Grayson left without a word and Damian curled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. It was all so frustrating to the teen.

Why couldn’t he see those files? What could be so terrible that he had to leave?

Was it because they were about Drake, what The League did to him?

Do they not trust me?

The thought made Damian want to cry but he had enough discipline to keep the tears at bay. The teen had tried so hard to be better, to undo years of condition he received from The League. It was difficult rewriting your mind to ignore lessons taught through pain, beliefs ingrained through suffering. Damian was trying to rebuild himself, but his past haunted every step. Father and Grayson told him he was doing better, but better was never enough it seemed. The world felt cold in that library, the teens mind buzzed with insecurity.

Then Pennyworth entered the library with a tray of food. The old man placed it on a nearby table, before approaching the teen. He knelt and rested a hand on Damian's shoulder.

“Master Damian, would it be best if I stay with you? Or would you like some alone time?” The butler offered gently. Damian looked up trying to keep his expression neutral. But the older saw through the younger’s mask, and gave a gentle squeeze. They stayed like that for a while, silent in each other’s presence. It helped Damian feel a little more relaxed and he uncurled into a proper sitting position. Pennyworth’s love and loyalty was something few received, only saved for family. In this moment he was telling Damian, without words, that he was family and that he belonged here.

And maybe, Damian believed him, just a little.

“How about I start some tea?” Alfred suggested with a small warm smile.

“That would be … acceptable” Damian responded.

“Right away sir”

The butler got up to leave, only pausing when he heard the fourth Robin speak up.

“Pennyworth?”

“Yes Master Damian?”

Damian's cheeks felt warm.

“Thank you”

——

Jason didn’t know how he ended up being a babysitter, but now he was stuck with two little shrimps.

After a pleasant breakfast and Tim demanding Jason autograph his napkin, after signing, Jason suggested they head to the library. He was hoping to quietly pass time there, till whatever down stairs was settled. While he was itching to hear what Oracle had found and how it related to Tim, he knew reading an old fashion book would keep him sated. The classics always had a way of making him forget the world. The library was to be the only place that never kicked him out for loitering, when he lived on the streets. Not much to do outside of work and foraging when you're a homeless kid. Also it was harder for someone to attack or kidnap you in a public place. Even after he moved to the manor he still found comfort among the shelves of books. Whenever he settled into a safe house he could use regularly, he carved out little reading nooks for himself.

So when Jason wheeled Tim to Wayne Manor’s library, he was not expecting to see a distraught Baby Bat sitting in one of its many plush chairs, snacking on some fruit and crackers with a frustrated face. He felt torn between checking on the little demon or leaving right away to find somewhere else to hang out. Jason found it … difficult when it came to comforting the teen. Jason didn’t really spend a ton of time with Damian one on one, but he was still his brother. He still tried to support the kid whenever he had an art show or gave him shit for silly things, like any good older brother would. On the rare occasions where Damian would come to him for advice on something, Jason treated him with kindness as much as he could. They both spent time in the clutches of The League of Shadows, they shared understanding of each other through similar trauma.

When Damian was upset it was usually better to direct him towards Dick or Bruce, since they were closer with him. The kid was hard to read and disliked being coddled. Sometimes he’d accept a side hug from Jason, other times he’d give Jason a jab for getting too close.

The kid was prickly, but Jason loved him all the same.

“You okay Baby Bat?” Jason asked.

Damian shoved his face into his knees and gave an ambiguous grunt. Jason, once again, pondered what to do, only to be distracted by Tim pulling on his sleeve. The kid gestured him down and whispered that Damian shouldn’t be left alone. Tim could tell the teen wasn’t feeling well.

“I don’t know about that kid, he seems like-“

Damian clicked his tongue, cutting Jason off.

“I can hear you whispering about me, it’s quite rude” Damian huffed, glaring specifically at Jason.

“Sorry, um I just wondering if it would be okay if we came in,” Tim asked sheepishly.

“It’s not like I own the Manor, not yet at least. Why would you need my permission?”

“Yeah, but … I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Bold of you to think you could,”

“Cool it, he is just trying to be nice,” Jason interrupted.

Damian clicked his tongue and looked ready to spit venom at the man. Only for Tim to intervene, this time.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Tim said, grabbing Jason’s arm. “We can go somewhere else. I-I mean, I could just leave. I know you wanted to spend some time in the library.”

“It’s not - I’m not - uggh” Damian struggled. “I don’t want you to leave, just … stop assuming your mere presence is an issue. I am not upset with you Drake.”

“Soooo we can come in?” Tim asked, looking hopeful.

“Do as you wish, you being here has little effect on me,” Damian responded.

“Good enough for me, come on Tim, let's find something to read,” Jason said, wheeling them to a shelf. He was sick of the chit chat, it was book time.

Though he was a little proud of Damian for two things; one he did not tell Tim to leave, and two calling Tim out on his negative self-talk. Jesus, Jason wished he could revive Tim’s parents and put them in the ground again. Little Timmers had horrible self esteem. He was nine for fuck’s sake and he thought he caused all the world’s problems.

Did older Tim feel like this too?

They all fell into a lull. Damian was reading a book on birds, while munching on enough snacks to count as breakfast. Jason was reading The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, out loud to Tim. He figured it was an age appropriate story. The kid thoroughly enjoyed it, mostly sitting quiet with a smile and occasionally making comments. Timbo leaned heavily on Jason, clearly showing signs of being touched starved.

It was nice, cozy even.

But life is full of interruptions, like Barbra and Dick entering the library. Dick looked frazzled. As soon as he was able to make eye contact with Jason, the younger man berated him with silent questions. Dick sighed and made a subtle hand gesture, basically saying “I don’t know, Batman is handling it.” The message was frustrating but fair. Barbra looked exhausted to say the least. Her hair was a little damp from either a shower or a bath. Something it looked like she needed based on her eye bags and overall lack of energy. Jason was glad she had at least taken somewhat of a break.

“Hey Tim, good to see ya! Ya know I never apologized for my actions last night. So let me do that now, sorry for scaring you and pressing you to stay,” Dick apologized. While Tim's first response was to say Dick did not need to apologize for anything, a good nudge from Jason made him shyly accept it. Dick and Tim then shared a hug.

“Thanks bud. I also wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend Barbra Gordon,” Dick grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder. Barbra put on a gentle smile when Tim looked at her, Jason could see tears in the corners of her eyes being suppressed.

“N-nice to meet you Miss Gordon,” Tim blurted out. He was shy as always.

“Barbra is fine, I would rather not be called Miss anything.”

She wheeled closer to the boy, only to stop midway with a deep concerned expression taking over her features.

“Tim?” She gasped.

Jason snapped his head to the boy. Tim was frozen in place except for his eyes. His lids were twitching between being closed and half way open. His pupils seemed to oscillate slightly.

“Is he having a seizure?” Damian asked, sounding a little afraid.

“I’m getting Alfred” Dick announced, bolting out of the room.

Jason thought to move the boy to the ground. If he was having a seizure they would need to get him into the recovery position fast. Then they’d need something soft under his head, to protect the little dome.

“Tim? Tim? You okay?” Barbra asked, taking his hands.

The boy jerked, letting out a little breath.

“Oracle?” He wheezed. He blinked a few times, his eyes flashing green then seemingly returning to normal. He shook his head and smiled.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you. I promise I haven’t told anyone your identity.”

Tim let out a little gasp, making everyone else jump.

“Can I get your autograph? I never thought I’d get a chance to talk to you. This is amazing! Is your base in Gotham’s clock tower? Oops, wait, sorry, you probably didn’t want me to say that outloud.”

Tim babbled on excitedly asking questions about how Oracle operates and recounting various theories he had on old cases. The child was so excited he never paused for an answer or noticed the stunned expression of those around him.

“He’s in here A,” Dick chimed in. The two sped walked into the room and Barbra scooted to the side of the couch. She kept holding on to one of Tim's hands. Alfred wasted no time and started inspecting the boy. Tim’s elation shifted to confusion as Alfred asked him standard cognition questions. Tim seemed aware of his surroundings, but had no recollection of his “episode.” Dick mentioned something like this happened before when the man was introduced in the medical bay.

He did faint after seeing me during the rescue.

I just thought he was tired but it could have been something more.

“Perhaps it’s caused by Master Tim’s mind adjusting to change. But for all we know magic could be causing it,” Alfred theorized.

While Timbo seemed more distressed about causing a scene, the rest of the group were deeply troubled by the incident. They agreed silently with pointed looks to keep an eye on the boy and report to each other if it happens again.

“Sure bud, I can sign something for you,” Barbra agreed.

Alfred approached with a booklet, a piece of paper,and pen, he handed them all to Babs.

“I’ve taken the liberty to compile the signature you’ve collected so far in this book Master Tim,” Alfred stated. With stars in his eyes, Tim unleashed a spew of thank yous. The kid was stupidly cute, thanking Oracle for signing as well. He then shoved the napkin Jason signed earlier into the book.

“You want to write my name again on something better than a napkin?” Jason offered.

“Would you? I could never get enough autographs from Robin!” Tim cheered.

Damian clicked his tongue but remained silent. Jason was starting to get real tired of Tim calling him Robin. The man was sure him and Damian were taking psychic damage every time the kid said it. Jason as much as he wanted to tell Tim, that Robin cape no longer rested on his shoulders, he also didn’t want to bum the squirt out. He also didn’t want Tim to feel less safe around the Ex-Robin.

Ughhh, maybe I should make Dickwing do it. He’s better at being sensitive with things … usually…

“Y-yeah, sure kid, how about I just write my civilian name again,” Jason responded.

“Oh make sense! You can never be too careful when it comes to your identity.”

While the rest of the day was peaceful by Bat standards (still banter and petty fights), there was a lingering tension caused by Bruce’s isolation. Babs told Jason that she had retrieved files on Tim, but kept the details extremely vague. When Alfred announced that Batman would not lift the lock-down till tomorrow and that they may start lunch without him, a new sense of foreboding energy filled the air. The only one unaffected it seemed was Tim and for that Jason was grateful. The kid was busy being starstruck by his heroes. Dick was a natural show off, doing unnecessary flips and feats that never got old to the tiny tot. Barbra did some logic puzzles with him, praising a bashful boy when he found solutions. Damian lurked around in the background, later joining Jason and Tim for a movie before dinner.

Even the dinner was uneventful. Shepherd’s pie warmed their stomachs and wrapped up the day nicely. Before parting for the night Babs informed the group that Cass finally responded and was planning to come home soon. Tim seemed excited to meet a new person, especially one who was a hero he never heard of.

As Jason settled into bed with Tim, he tried to let himself relax. He tried to ignore the anxiety building in the back of his mind.

The calm before the storm

Chapter Text

Bruce’s hand hovered over the play button. He decided he needed to address the suicide attempts first. He wouldn’t be able to focus without knowing what happened, what Tim...attempted. He had skimmed the notes in Suicide Attempt 1. He knew what he’d see, but also knew he needed to watch it to put his soul at rest. With a few breaths he clicked it.

The video showed his son, Tim being led into an aircraft by four League of Shadow’s members and their leader. He had been stripped of his suit, only wearing a thin white shirt he usually wore under his costume and a pair of boxers with all the Batfamily logos on it. Bruce couldn’t help but pause the video, just taking a moment to look at his son. He hadn’t seen Tim at his proper age for awhile, he missed him. Tears peaked in the corners of Bruce’s eyes, but they were quickly suppressed. He continued the video as Batman, not a weeping father.

Tim's wrists were bound in front with thick metal wires.

First mistake, never tie a Robin's hands in front.

The cabin of the plane was expensive to say the least. Batman was able to tell it was an upscaled carrier, made to mimic the inside of a private plane. While Tim and Ra’s al Ghuul were seated in plush white seats, the soldiers went to the walls. They stood in attention, dark masks hiding any sense of emotion or individuality. Between the third Robin and the lord stood a small table. Two servants entered, one carrying a pot of tea and the other a singular cup. The room was silent other than ambient plane sounds as the cup was poured. Once the drink was served they both bowed and backed away, joining the warriors against the wall. Ra’s slurped slowly, watching Tim’s face the whole time. When Tim gave him no reaction, the man only smiled back.

Ra’s went on a speech about how he had finally bested his “favorite detective” and looked forward to their partnership. Batman clenched fists tightened with every dig and underhanded compliment spewed by the older man. The hero hated the way Ra’s looked at Tim, the way he dragged his eyes over every feature of the younger man.

Tim was refusing to give what Ra’s wanted, a reaction. If anything, the young hero looked bored. This filled Batman with pride and Ra’s with anger. After a few minutes, the older man stood up and slowly walked towards Tim, his smug grin nowhere to be found. He sank his fingers into Tim’s black locks and pulled the bound man’s head back. Batman’s knuckles were white, his fist almost becoming painful. Tim didn’t even look at him, staring out into space, even as Ra’s started leaning in.

“You dare defy me? So soon after pledging your loyalty to me, ” Ra’s growled. He was almost nose to nose with Red Robin, the hero simply closed his eyes. “Perhaps I should remind you what's at sta-“

Tim spat something at Ra’s face. When the projectile made contact it burst into dense smoke. Batman immediately recognized it was a smoke bomb. Red Robin had mentioned that he was working on one that could be used at close range and easily set off. He sketched a small thin glass ball with a smaller ball in the center surrounded by coolant. Within the smaller ball the oxidizer and fuel were separated by a thin wall. In theory, the glass would break easily on contact with any surface. This break would allow the chemicals to mix and release a burst of smoke. Batman had assumed the idea had been scrapped, but it seems his third Robin had succeeded in constructing the tool.

The surprise of getting a face full of smoke made the lord rear back and released Tim’s hair. Gas quickly filled the room, Batman could barely make out Red Robin kneeing Ra’s in the groin. The soldiers rushed into the cloud, while the servants pulled their lord away. One covered Ra’s face with a cloth and ordered the other to fetch a gas mask for him. They probably thought the vapor was poisonous.

The soldiers let out grunt and shouts, no doubt caused by Red Robin using the smoke to his advantage. Even with his hands bound, he was a powerful fighter. He was taught by Lady Shiva after all. When the servant opened a door towards the front of the plane, a leg shot out the haze, kicking them in the stomach. Red Robin slipped past them and slammed the door behind him.

“Get off me - you fool! He’s going for - the cockpit, stop him!” Ra’s al Ghuul ordered coughing between his words. He shoved the servant trying to cover him to the ground, as the other members rushed the door. They pounded and pulled but it remained sealed. Somehow the young hero had locked it. Ra’s cursed up a storm and ordered his underlings open the doors to the back of the plane to dissipate the smoke. After they opened it, a few soldiers went off to look for something to help disperse the gas, the lord then ordered the others to execute the servants in his rage. Unseen in the smoke, servants began beginning and pleading for their lives. When white gas faded, their corpses were revealed, their throats slit. Unsurprisingly the soldiers had no hesitation when it came to killing their allies.

For a few minutes the League of Shadows members scrabbled to try to get the still sealed door open. Ra’s was growing redder with each failed attempt. Even after trying to override the system, nothing could be done.

The plane suddenly lurched and a familiar voice crackled through the intercom.

“Sorry for the turbulence folks, first time flier here,” Tim snarked.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile and feel a little burst of pride seeing his son outsmart the leader of one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the world. He didn’t let himself get too excited, the file was still labeled suicide attempt after all.

“Detective, you are making a grave mistake. Your betrayal will cost you dearly. I will consider giving you mercy only if you surrender now,” Ra’s growled.

“Wow, you really drive a hard bargain. I’m for sure going to give myself up now,” Tim snarked back. The plane shook again, Batman wished there was footage of the cock pit. He wanted to know what Red Robin was doing, but like Ra’s, he could only listen.

“Now sit tight old man, we are taking a detour.”

“Detective, you may think you have the upper hand. We both know wherever you take me, won’t stop me from ordering your family's death. This is a fool's errand.”

“Oh you’re so right, that's why I’m not imprisoning you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m killing you and everyone on this plane. I’m going to find a nice deep part of the ocean to crash in, far enough from the coast that no one will ever find us. If the impact somehow doesn’t kill you, drowning sure will,” Tim announced.

Batman was shocked Red Robin would talk about killing so many people so casually. So cold, it made him want to shiver. But what really froze the bat to the core was realizing Tim was counting himself in the killing.

“Killing? Doesn’t murder stand against everything Batman taught you,” Ra’s laughed.

“Keyword Batman, I’m not Batman,” Tim responded, sounding almost bored.

“That you are, but he would never forgive you for taking a life, let alone so many.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what he’d feel. He still ignored those queasy feelings he had whenever he thought about how Damian and Jason committed multiple murders in the past. He had a sneaking suspicion Red Hood was still killing occasionally, but rarely went out of his way to check.

“I don’t need his forgiveness if I’m dead. He can hate me all he wants, I’m doing what has to be done to protect my family.”

Bruce wanted to stop, he wanted to pause and leave. He wanted to storm up the stairs, find Tim, and take him into his arms. He wanted to never let go, wanted to tell his son over and over that his father could never hate him. That there was nothing in this world that would make him stop loving his son. That nothing would be worth his death. But he was more compelled to finish the video.

“Sentimental are we? Are you not worried your death will break him, just like Jason Todd? We both know he can’t handle losing another son,” Ra’s challenged.

There was a pause, a long painful one. Batman was worried the footage froze until the plane shook and the room started shifting. The plane was starting to go down.

“He’ll get over it,” Tim attested.

No

I would never get over it

“He doesn’t need me, he will have everyone else,” he continued.

“No Tim, no son,” Bruce cried. He couldn’t be Batman, he couldn’t be anything other than a horrified failure of a father.

“Surely you know how much he needs you detective, at the very least to keep his little operation a float,” Ra’s contested.

“I’ve left systems in place to keep Wayne Industries functional in my absence, all my cases and notes will transfer to the Batcave within days. You don’t get it Ra’s, there is nothing you can say will change my mind.”

Bruce hated that it was the truth. He didn’t have to attend his company once after Tim was taken. He was able to ignore his responsibilities, because Tim had taken care of things like always.

“You’ve been preparing to die for a while haven’t you, Timothy Drake,” Ra’s grinned like the monster he was.

Silence was the only answer and the only thing in Bruce’s brain.

“While some may see your plan as pathetic, I must admire your dedication, especially to those who care so little for you. I wonder though, if the fact Talia is aboard this aircraft would make you reconsider,” Ra’s continued. The tone of his voice was arrogant. He knew he now had the upper hand.

“You’re bluffing,” Tim faltered.

“Are you willing to take that chance, take my grandson’s mother away from him?”

“Talia doesn’t deserve to be his mother,” the younger man snared.

“Some would say the same about dearest Janet Drake, and yet her death almost destroyed you. I wonder if it will break Damian?” The lord pondered in an insultingly playful tone.

“You are bluffing, show me she is on this aircraft now.”

Ra’s al Ghuul waved his hands and left the room. He returned with a lovely dark haired woman that Bruce still sometimes dreamed of. Talia al Ghuul walked both confidently and stiff, her expression unchanged by the chaos around her. Batman could tell by her posture that she was somewhat unaware of what was happening, but her loyalty cemented she would never ask for an explanation. Ra’s order her to spin slowly in the center of the room like a show pony, no doubt to prove she was authentic. Ra’s waved her away and she left without any hesitation.

“Well?”

The plane leveled out.

The last thing Batman would see was Ra’s al Ghul smirking before footage ended.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim knew he was dreaming. He could always tell it was a dream when his parents would greet him with smiles instead of annoyance. The boy tended to have semi lucid dreams. He never really could control them overall, only recognize them and control his own behavior. Even though it was all fake, Tim let himself enjoy the moment. Sometimes it was nice to play pretend. Father was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. From what Tim could see of it, there were no actual words, only swiggles.

“Look here Janet, says Joker is still out there. How has Batman not caught him yet?” Jack Drake asked, setting down the paper. Tim heard a faint scratching sound coming from it. The wiggly lines suddenly form “JOKER STILL AT LARGE” in bold black letters.

Weird

“Some suspect he left the country, Batman only works in Gotham,” Janet Drake responded. “Timothy, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please mother,” Tim chirped.

Breakfast seemed normal, no, if it was normal breakfast Tim would be alone. The scene was more what Tim expected other families' breakfasts would go. Like the one he had with Jason last morning, except this time with his parents. Idol chatter, warm food, smiles, all things books and comics told Timmy how meals should be.

The scratching continued to irritate Tim’s ears, but when he glanced back at the paper it was gone.

“Oh dear, I think I left the TV on. Could you turn it off for me son?” Jack asked.

Tim nodded and left to the living room. Each step the horrible noise became louder, the scratchy sound blended into familiar static. The hallways felt longer than normal. The light bled away into darkness, by the time he reached the living room it was almost pitch black. He had to feel around for the door frame before he could enter. Peaking in, he could see a glowing TV just passed the couch. The screen flashed black and white pixels in a scattered mess, usually indicating poor connection or damage. The device seemed normal enough, but for some reason, it terrified the boy. He slowly crept forward, feeling like he was about to walk into a bear’s den and be ripped apart by its owner. He reached out to turn it off, his fingers barely touched the power button before the static blared so much louder, spooking him.

Then the screen changed, it showed a faceless woman dressed in a purple classy dress. Tim recognized her vaguely from a news channel.

“Our top story tonight! Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s newest adopted son, Jason Todd, declared missing,” the newscaster announced. “His last known location w-“

The screen flickered with static, then a different image lit up the screen. This time it was a man in a suit, sitting at a table with other faceless folks.

“Junior caped crusader of Gotham dead? Last night Joker declared during a bank robbery, he killed the beloved young hero Robin! More after this commercial br-“

“No, that can’t be," Tim whispered. He pressed the power button, but it wouldn’t turn off. He tried pressing hard and holding it but was still unsuccessful. “Turn off, come on, turn off!”

The TV changed again, the static between transitions was louder.

“I think Joker may have really killed Robin. I mean Batman almost killed the freak, he’s never gone that far before. If I was the guy I don’t think-“

Tim ran to the back of the device, he didn’t want to hear anymore. He pulled the cord connecting the TV to the outlet. It wouldn’t budge, so he planted his feet and used his entire weight to rip the cord from the socket. The black cord snapped out, the force of the boy’s pull sent it flying back into his hand. It hurt, but Tim didn’t care, he just wanted to stop hearing the lies.

“Joker survives, but what of Robin?”

Even without power the clips continued to play. Tim covered his ears and screamed. He begged for them to stop talking. But even with his ears covered he could hear the static and the channel change. He curled up wanting to wake up and make this hell go away.

“Jason Todd declared dead”

-static-

“Batman’s Brutality is a problem”

-static-

“Is Bruce Wayne covering something up?”

-static-

“Robin hasn’t been seen in months”

-static-

“Three criminals left in a coma after a suspected encounter with Bat-“

-static-

“Is Bruce Wayne becoming a recluse?”

-static-

“Someone has to do something”

The last one’s voice sounded familiar, through his tears the boy looked up only to see his own face on the screen. It stared at him with determined eyes. A crack ran through the screen.

“I have to do something,” they both said.

The TV shattered, shards flew towards Tim’s face. But they never reached him, because the boy woke up.

———————————————

Jason never liked waking up to screaming, whether it was coming from him or someone else, it was never a good sign. But he did and it was coming from Tim. His little brother was shrieking next to him in bed, eyes glowing and hands grasping at Jason’s shirt.

“Woah, woah hey,” Jason placated. Tim shoved his face into his older brother’s chest. He held Tim close and tight, his heart shaking in tatem with his little brother’s entire body.

Probably a nightmare

“Jason, Jason tell me none of it was real. Tell me, please, I can’t” Tim begged.

“It was a dream, buddy. A nightmare even, but you're okay,” Jason affirmed. But Tim only shook his head. Jason took long drawn out breaths, trying to surround the boy with a gentle pattern. He hoped Tim would try to follow his breathing.

“Please don’t go, please if you go you’ll die. He will kill you,” Tim sobbed, muffled in Jason’s shirt. The man stiffened, confused and concerned. He needed to know what Tim was talking about if he was going to help the little guy.

“What are you talking about Baby Bird?” Jason asked, pulling Tim a little from his chest.

“If you go to Ethiopia, Joker will kill you, he is tricking you. It’s all a trap!”

What?

Jason froze, he stared down at the panicking boy. He felt his hairs stand on end, spots on his body start pulsating.

How does he know about that?

“Please Jason, please don’t go. Joker is planning to kill Robin, he is planning to kill you!”

Bile rose in Jason's throat, the acid burning his tongue. He could feel the cold floor of the warehouse on his back. The air was suddenly stagnant and smelling of rust. He shook his head, trying to break the illusion.

Tim kept talking about that horrible night in detail. The boy was saying the names that haunted Jason, Robin and Joker, and it was pulling down all of the man’s defenses. He swore could hear it, he could hear laughing again.

“Robin?” Tim weeped.

Fuck this

He barely got his arms securely around Tim when he bolted. This was bad, really bad. Jason could feel himself struggling to remember he was in the manor.. He couldn’t focus on his coping techniques because Tim’s begging sounded too much like a young Jason begging for Bruce.

“Save your breath little birdie. I wanna hear you sing!”

Shut up!

Jason let his body lead him as his mind became a watery hell. He was trying to keep himself from drowning in the green. If he stopped swimming, Tim might drown with him.

“Jason, what? Where are we going? We need to find Batman! He will protect us, he has to,” Tim shrill babbling was really not helping. Jason could barely avoid stumbling as he took a sharp turn.

“No one’s coming”

Fuck you

He found the door he needed and pounded so hard on it he could hear the wood crack. Tim was wiggling in his hold, but the grip remained solid as iron. When the door opened revealing a groggy Dick Grayson, Jason almost felt relieved.

“What the fuck Little Wing? You better not have broken my door” Dick grumbled, rubbing his eyes. The older man's eyes widened at the sight of his crying little brothers. “What’s going on? Is Tim okay? Are you hurt?”

“What hurts more?”

Shut up!

“Dick please you have to stop him, he can’t leave!” Tim screeched.

“Forehand?”

Stop

Jason pried Tim off him and held the boy out to his older brother.

“Take him,” Jason commanded.

“Or backhand?”

Stop it please

“Jason wait a sec” Dick hesitated. Tim was trying to
pull himself back into Jason’s chest. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, his eyes were glowing brighter than any time before.

“Jason no, if you leave he will kill you! Please don’t go” Tim begged. He sounded so very afraid. Jason needed to get away from the boy, he needed to get away from everyone, or he would hurt someone.

“Take the fucking kid!” Jason snarled.

“This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me”

Jason practically threw Tim into Dick’s arms. It must have hurt because the child let out a painful yelp. Jason wanted to apologize but he didn’t trust his words. The tornado of his memories and rage was ripping him apart inside. The green of the Lazarus Pit, amplified it into a typhoon of fury. If he opened his mouth, it would release the storm upon those he wanted to protect.

“No! No Robin you promised! You promised you’d stay with me! You promised you’d take me with you!” Tim shrieked. Dick had his arm wrapped around the little waist, keeping the flailing boy from escaping. “Don’t go! Dick stop him, please, if he goes to Ethiopia he will die!”

Horror manifested on Dick’s face, it quickly morphed into understanding and certainty.

“Jason go, I’ve got him” Dick said stiffly.

“No Dick, no no no. If he goes he will die, we have to save him,” Tim screamed. He fought, begging and crying like a toddler having a tantrum. It hurt to see, but it hurt Jason more to listen.

So he ran.

———---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce’s eyes burned from staring at the monitor too long. He hadn’t opened another folder after the first. Watching the incident on the plane stunned him for a while. Once he was reconnected to his body, he had forced himself to read the notes about the video.

The words were impersonal to say the least. His son was dehumanized in the text, referring to him as a subject. They treated him like a rat running a maze.

It was disgusting to see the theories made on what emotional weaknesses they could use to control him. Multiple times it noted "refer to trigger section” and “possible exploit.”

There were also some notes about there being a huge oversight in the security department of the League. It seemed Red Robin had recorded all their passcodes when he worked with them before and had learned a pattern they followed. This explained why Tim was able to lock them out of the plane door. The security division had been oblivious to these patterns, it probably cost someone’s head but proper changes were made to correct the vulnerability.

Batman was impressed Red Robin was able to manipulate the criminal organization on so many levels. The younger man’s skills were not something he discussed much with his allies. Always keeping them at a distance while working in the shadows to support them. Batman couldn’t help but think of how dangerous it would be if Red Robin’s loyalty was steered away from justice and redirected towards The League of Shadows. It was a familiar concern, the hero felt it before when the third Robin wanted revenge on Captain Boomerang. It came with guilt but Bruce couldn’t help himself, he knew he over thought things. He had a list of how to take down all the heroes in the Justice League for God sakes.

Bruce leaned forward, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and steady his mind. Tim was and is dangerous, but he also is his son. Bruce would never want to harm his children, and yet he had done it time and time again.

We are all dangerous

It was true, anyone of Gotham’s heroes could shake up the world. But they kept each other in check, supported each other in their darkest nights. Batman should know this most of all, he’d become a monster without his family. He had come so close to losing himself, only Tim was able to drag him back.

Bruce focused back on the computer, he still had so many folders to dig through. He opened the “Sucicide Attempt 2” folder and prepared himself the best he could. The video in this one was much shorter and so were the notes on it.

The video started with Tim in a brown stone cell. The boy looked mostly the same from the last video, except for a stunning white streak running through a black short hair. He was dressed in bland day wear, a tan shirt and long dark brown pants. He was chained this time. Cuffs on his wrist and ankles link to one large loop on the floor. It allowed for some movement around the room but not much. Tim was lying on his side, nothing but a thin white sheet separating him from the floor. His expression was numb and zoned out, perhaps he was drugged.

Bruce couldn’t help but think Tim looked like Jason, the solid streak of white that followed those cursed by the Pit. The Tim they had now had so much more white in his hair and Batman had some theories why. He suspected Ra’s placed Tim in the Pit multiple times or had Tim in the waters for an extended period of time. They were horrifying thoughts, Bruce wasn’t sure which option was worse.

When the door slowly opened, Tim didn’t do more than blink. A man in a white lab coat entered, followed by two guards. The man sat in a folding chair that was carried in by one of the guards. He pulled out a small recording device and a clip board.

“Hello, how are we feeling today?” The (presumed) doctor asked.

Tim closed his eyes and slowly sat up. When he opened his eyes they glared up at the other man. The doctor, unperturbed by the look, continued.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, please answer them to the best of your ability. First off, what is your name?”

Tim opened his mouth and let out a harsh cough. He covered his mouth with one hand and pointed to his throat with the other. He then mimed drinking from an invisible cup.

“I see, you need some water?”

Tim nodded.

“I’ll have someone fetch some for you. But I expect you to respond to me after. Do not insult my kindness.”

Within minutes a League servant entered with what looked like a clay cup of water. Tim snatched it as soon as he could and took a few sips. When he paused to breathe the servant tried to take the cup back, but Tim blocked them and held the cup to his chest. The servant looked awkwardly between the guards and the doctor. The doctor waved them off with an eye roll and they quickly departed.

“Now shall we continue?” The doctor asked.

“Why am I here?” Tim said.

“I will be the one asking the questions here. Let’s start over, please state your name.”

“You already know it.”

“Humor me”

“Tim Drake”

The doctor wrote something down. Bruce raised an eyebrow, only for Tim to do the same.

“What is my name?” The doctor asked.

“Is this some kind of game? Fuck this, Ra’s I know you are listening you bastard!” Tim shouted. Green lined his irises.

“You will be speaking to me, not Ra’s al Ghuul. I assume that you do not recall my name,” the doctor noted. “It’s Dr. Vasilyev by the way. Okay next, do you remember how you got here?”

“Ra’s! Ra’s you bastard! I’m not giving you an heir! I thought I made it fucking clear last time,” Tim continued to yell. The younger man must have noticed the green bleeding deeper into his eyes, because what he said next quivered with fear. “Y-you put me in The Pit?”

I’m so sorry son

The doctor sighed and put down his clip board.

“The subject is not cooperative and too aggressive, suggesting more treatments before we proceed,” Dr. Vasilyev stated. He stood to leave as Tim mouthed the word “treatments”. The third Robin started shaking, fear and rage clear in his expression.

Before the doctor could speak again there was a sudden shatter that echoed through the room. Tim smashed the cup against the wall. While some shards flew across the room, Tim held on to the largest piece. It cut into his hands, sending rivets of blood down his arms.

“See you in hell,” Tim growled before beginning to drag the shard across his neck. Bruce felt like he was watching in slow motion. It didn’t matter if this was in the past, seeing his son try to kill himself was a horrific torture. His pale skin opened, crimson leaked down, right under the scar from the first time his neck was slit.

Tim had only made it halfway across before being stopped. The guards dashed forward, stealing the shard from his hand and pinning him to the wall. Tim’s blood spattered on their uniforms. Dr. Vasilyev quickly pressed his hand over the wound, trying to slow the flow. He began barking orders as more league members poured in.

And with that, the footage ended.

Chapter Text

Dick held a scrambling Tim as Jason ran away. He prayed his brother would go to Roy and not take his emotions out on Gotham’s streets. But he couldn’t let himself worry too much about the other man’s choices, because right now, he needed to calm down his other little brother.

“Dick, why? Why would you let him leave? He’s going to die, don’t you care about him? He is your brother!” Tim screamed.

Oof that hits hard

Dick winced at the emotional blow, followed by some physical blows when Tim started frantically punching Dick’s arm. The boy didn’t have enough force to break the hold, but Dick found they sure did smart.

With each strike, Dick reminded himself that Tim was just confused and that Jason was still alive. He couldn’t let himself take anything the boy said personally or let guilt cloud his mind. The older brother started dragging the younger deeper into the room, past a near comatose Barbra, and to a nice chair he had in the corner. Babs was dead asleep, very little could wake the drooling woman at this point.

“He’s your brother! Please, please save him” Tim sobbed.

I wish I did, Tim

I wish I saved you sooner too

Dick sat down and held the child to himself. He could feel the gasps and sobs shaking the little body against his chest. He kept his arms hooked under Tim’s armpits and folded over the boy's stomach. Pushing back his own tears, Dick pressed his lips to the back of Tim’s head with a kiss. The older brother noticed the younger felt oddly warm under his lips. He let the thought slip away as he tried to forge something to say to Tim.

“Tim it’s okay, Jason is okay I promise” Dick tried to reassure. But the little boy just shook his head.

“You don’t know that! You don’t understand! Let me go!”

“Tim, please listen to me!”

All of sudden, Tim stopped fighting.

“Just let me go, please,” Tim said, noticeably softer.

His limbs loosened against Dick’s hold. Dick felt immense relief, and took a second to breathe. The boy in his arms was sweating. Dick suspected Tim wore himself out, but Dick didn’t dare chance letting go.

“It's okay, Baby Bird. I know things are confusing right now, but please let me explain. What you're talking about happened a long time ago. We’ve already put the Joker back in Arkham and Jason is alive. I know it doesn’t make sense but…” Dick paused. He was trying to judge Tim’s reaction. But the child was silent and unchanging.

Dick found it eerie how still Tim was.

“Tim?”

The boy was unresponsive, Dick noticed his head was tilted downward.

“H-hey Tim, you okay?”

Dick gave him a little shake, but the kid moved more like a ragdoll than a person.

Did he pass out?

“Hey buddy, you with me,” Dick fretted. He leaned in to check on his little brother.

The man felt agony shoot up from his right index finger, it had been pulled way too far backwards suddenly. Before he could even shout, Tim’s head snapped back and slammed into Dick’s face. He heard the crack of his nose before he felt the pain take over.

“Fuck!” Dick shouted.

He felt blood rain down from his nose, as a reflex his hands flew to his face to cover it. A harsh sting ran up the bridge of his nose and spread across his entire skull. He let out a cough, the taste of iron blanket the roof of his mouth.

Tim shot off his lap and onto the ground. He then limped across the room within seconds.

Dick jumped from his chair, trying to stand only to have a rush of vertigo. He stumbled to the ground, catching himself on his hands just in time to not crash his bleeding face into the carpet. Unfortunately, a few drops still dripped onto the fabric, staining the cloth. Dick sent a mental apology to Alfred, before raising his head.

Tim had made his way to the farthest corner of the room, which luckily, was on the opposite side of the room from the doorway. His small form was pressed into the narrow space, his stance was defensive.

“Really not cool, Baby Bird,” Dick grumbled. He wobbled to his knees, leaning on the bed that held his sleeping lover. The man shook his head, trying to clear the spots in his vision. That ended up being a mistake since it sent dull waves suffering across his brain. “Why did you do that?”

Dick leveled his gaze at his attacker. Tim wasn’t crying anymore, his face held no emotion. His eyes were glowing a much more menacing green. Dick noticed Tim’s pupils had constricted and were a little hazy.

Pit episode

Dick’s frustration was smothered with concern and guilt. The stress of Jason, the boy’s idol, facing death had triggered the curse of the Pit to take over. It was unclear how lucid Baby Bird was, his mind having sunk deep into the water’s depths.

Tim's eyes were darting around the room, first locking on to the door, then window. Dick could see he was debating which to go for to escape. The man really didn’t want Tim to pick the window. Not only could the drop injure the boy, but he’d be unprotected outside the manor. If Tim ran, who knows who would find him first. Dick decided he needed to block off the window as an option. The little bird flying around inside the manor would be better than having him soar outside.

Slowly without taking his eyes off his brother, he walked closer to the window. As he passed a side table he picked up Barbra’s phone. He knew he couldn’t wake her up with words or shakes, the poor woman was out like a rock. But there was one thing that could always rouse Babs, her phone. Barbra Gordon’s night life tended to lead to her over sleeping and she hated it. Specifically she hated being late to work or events, so she trained her body to awaken at the ringing of bells she set her alarm to. Dick typed her pass code without having to look down, they both had their civilian phones set to their anniversary date (yes they were sappy like that). Dick did however have to look away to find the alarm app. Once Dick’s eyes flicked to the device, Tim took the opportunity to make a break for the door.

“Shit!” Dick cursed, tossing the phone on the bed. As the familiar clanging burst from the phone, Tim was well out of the room.

“Dick? What?” Babs grumbled.

“Pit Tim, call Alfred, gotta go!” Dick shouted, leaving his wary girlfriend to pursue his feral brother.

Dick’s steps were shaky as he sprinted after the boy. His vision had mostly cleared, though the world was still a little wobbly. Tim was surprisingly fast, even though he was hobbling along with an injured foot. Dick prayed the fracture in Tim’s ankle wouldn’t worsen from this ordeal.

“Tim! Tim stop!” Dick yelled.

Surprisingly the boy did.

“Tim?”

“Grayson? Drake? What on earth are you doing?” Damian grumbled. He was rubbing his eyes and was dressed in a Nightwing themed nightshirt. On any other day Dick would have commented on how adorable Baby Bat looked, but right now he was more afraid for both his younger brother’s safety.

“Damian, go back to your room,” Dick ordered.

“Drake?” Damian mumbled, blinking enough sleep out of his eyes to fully see his brothers.

“Tim is having a Pit episode, walk back slowly into your room Dami.”

Dick noted Tim didn’t respond to his name, he was busy watching Damian carefully. He transferred his weight foot to foot, like he was gauging how to get past the other boy. Damian kept his eyes on Tim as he gave a silent signal to Ace and Titus to sit and stay in his room. He reached back and closed the door after.

“Grayson, tell me you have a sedative,” Damian groaned, refusing to listen to his older brother's orders.

“Not at the moment, I told Babs to call Alfred. I’m hoping I-we can keep him in the manor till Alfred comes to help,” Dick said. The man knew Damian was as stubborn as their father, it wasn’t worth arguing.

“You are injured? Grayson, this is ridiculous. Please tell me, I’m not working with a concussed fool to wrangle my Pit mad bro-guest.”

“I’m not concussed, just shakened.”

“That is something a concussed person would say.”

Tim, no longer distracted by their bickering, made a move to pass Damian. The fourth Robin tried to trip the boy as he passed, but Tim jumped over his foot and rolled into a crouch.

“Damian!”

“I know Grayson!”

Tim tried to take off into a run, but was again limited by his injuries. He stumbled back to the ground when his ankle failed to support weight. Damian quickly caught up to him, blocking a precise kick Tim sent while rolling onto his back. Tim then bent his knees and curled them to his chest. Dick eyes widened realizing what the younger fighter was about to do.

“Damian back up!” He shouted. The quick reflexes from years of training with the bats and the league, paid off as Damian stepped back. He just barely dodged Tim performing a Kip up and righting himself. He didn’t avoid, however, Tim bending his knees as he landed and using the force of his body to spring up with a nasty uppercut to the teen’s face. Dick heard Damian's teeth click together and winced in sympathy. Dami went down with Tim on top of him.

Dick took the chance to intervene, hooking his arms under Tim’s pits and pulling the feral child away from the teen. Tim immediately tried to head butt the man again, but this time his older brother was prepared. He pressed his hands to the back of Tim’s head, putting him into a careful Full Nelson hold. He made sure not to strain Tim’s head, neck, and ribs while he tried to keep him still. The child began to kick backwards, trying to hit his captor’s groin.

“Damian legs!” Dick commanded.

Dick backed into a wall and slid down to sit on the ground. He never released his grip as he lowered the boy as well. Once on the ground, Damian straddled Tim’s legs and sat on his knees. Tim was now completely immobile.

“Well Grayson? We have him, what do we do now?”

“Wait for Alfred,” Dick smiled.

Dami sighed leaning a bit forward with the breath. Tim snapped trying to bite the teen’s nose. Damian clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

“Careful, those chompers can do some real damage,” Dick laughed.

————————

Damian felt disturbed by the way Drake fought. His technique and strength were impressive, even when not taking his age into consideration. The boy fought both like a warrior and a rabid dog. The juxtaposition of his honed reflexes with his desperate and dishonorable attacks (like biting), made Damian wonder if Drake had access to his combat memories from his training with Lady Shiva.

If he even has those memories to access. For all we know he could have been trained by the League.

Even when pinned Drake tried to pull himself from their hold. The child’s face never changed, a blank expression consistent through the whole ordeal. He never spoke, in fact, he made no noise at all. The child was like a zombie, well a zombie that paused occasionally to catch his breath.

Grayson had tried to murmur gentle affirmations of safety to the boy. But as the minutes passed and the boy gave no indication he was listening, it began to sound like Grayson was trying to reassure himself more than the child.

By the time Pennyworth arrived, Grayson’s hands were shaking from the strain of holding Drake’s upper half. Holding the young boy still enough for the sedative to be injected safely was a whole other battle. Damian could see the muscles strain in Pennyworth’s hands through his glove. With their combined efforts, they were just barely able to restrain Drake enough so the needle didn’t break in his skin. It took a few minutes for the pulls and pushes to stop. The boy fell limp with his eyelids following after. Nobody released the tiny body for a beat, waiting to see if Drake was truly incapacitated.

“Master Damian, would you help Master Dick with his stitches? I fear the wound on his hand has reopened. I shall tend to Master Tim,” Pennyworth said. He lifted Drake out of Grayson’s arms and walked into the nearest guest bedroom. “Please tell me if Master Dick’s nose or finger are broken, and if he has a concussion.”

“I don’t think anything’s broken and I don't have a concussion,” Grayson mumbled.

“I’ll be the judge of that, come Grayson,” Damian ordered. Damian stood up and offered his hand to the bleeding man on the floor. Grayson gave him mushy soft eyes, which were pathetic, but better than having the fool blubbering all over the place. Once on his feet the man leaned a bit of weight on Damian, who kept his comments to himself.

Damian led his elder brother to the guest room’s bathroom. As they passed Pennyworth, he handed Damian everything the teen would need to tend to Grayson. Grayson paused by Drake’s side, a painful emotion rested in the man’s eyes. Damian couldn’t help but stare as well, the little Drake face was a mess. Tears and snot were smeared on his red cheeks. His face was so emotionless during his episode, but now in sleep he had a deep frown. A cold spike nicked Damian’s heart at the sight.

After dragging Grayson to the restroom, he demanded the man sit down and began his inspection. Damian kept the door open only for Grayson’s sake. The teen definitely wasn’t feeling concerned for the white haired boy in the other room. He was also in no way worried the child would disappear or injure themselves again if not watched.

The rest of the inspection went by quickly. Grayson's nose was not broken, only bruised. His finger was over extended, but not of major concern. Lastly, he had only popped one stitch, which was an easy fix.

Damian, himself felt a bruise forming on the underside of his chin, but was relatively unharmed. Damian was relieved he did not sustain anymore injuries to his arm, Pennyworth was planning to remove the cast tomorrow.

A sleepy Gordon entered the room. She was still in her nightwear and was clearly planning to go back to sleep. When Pennyworth greeted her she only hummed in response. Then she pointed to Drake.

“Sedated?” She asked.

“Yes, Mistress Barbra,” Alfred answered. He had just finished changing Drake’s bandages, Damian noticed the butler kept a hand on Drake’s forehead.

The woman then pointed to Grayson.

“Concussion?” She once again asked.

“We are not sure yet,” Alfred responded.

“Why does everyone think I have a concussion!” Grayson whined.

Gordon waved and wheeled away, probably heading back to bed. After Grayson was cleared of a concussion Pennyworth decided it was time to question him.

“Master Dick, do you know what triggered all this? I assume it has something to do with Master Jason’s absences,” Pennyworth said. Damian watched as the older man dug through his medical bag, looking determined.

Grayson let out a loud sigh and sat on the bed, near Drake’s head.

“Jason came to my door with Tim. Both of them were freaking out, their eyes were glowing brighter than neon signs. Jay wanted me to take Tim. The kid really didn’t want him to leave him, to leave the manor at all. I was confused at first, Jay’s been happily glued to the little guy. But then Tim started screaming about stopping Jason from going to Ethiopia...” Grayson shoved his face into his hands.

Damian's eyes widened, he suspected Pennyworth’s did the same. Todd went to Ethiopia when he was still Robin. Damian had read how Jason’s blood mother, Sheila Haywood, had suddenly reappeared in the boy’s life. She manipulated the second Robin to follow her to Ethiopia, only to abandon her son again. This time she wasn’t leaving him on the streets, no she left her only son in the hands of a mad man.

Damian was told from a very small age, he’d be discarded if he ever failed his family. He originally believed Todd had been weak and was abandoned by his family for such.

But then Mother secretly stole the fallen failure Robin’s corpse. She planned to use Todd to kill the newest Robin. Younger Damian was confused to say the least. Why would she use Todd if he was weak? Todd was placed in the Pit, given a second chance, it didn’t make sense. Then Damian saw Todd fight, saw the blood thirsty demon that lurked under the other Robin’s skin.

The glowing green murderous eyes had shamefully given him nightmares for years.

When they released Todd to kill his replacement, he had almost succeeded after one attempt. But instead of delivering the final blow, he decided it was better to leave the third Robin alive. To use his blood and broken body to send a message.

Damian’s mother decided to change tactics. She, like Todd’s blood mother, abandoned the revived man. She told her son, Todd had failed and that now Damian would need to train harder to defeat Drake himself.

When Damian later joined his new family, he learned an important lesson about Todd. Even though he joked about his own death and called Drake “replacement”, he would quickly become violent if anyone brought up either topic. Even trying to talk to Drake about the attack, would lead to a screaming match. Grayson told Damian that Todd’s death and what came after were triggering topics. He said Todd hadn’t been in control of himself. He said Todd was getting better and Drake had forgiven him.

Damian wondered, had Todd ever apologized? What right did Grayson have to speak for Drake’s forgiveness? If everything was settled in the past, why was it still a lurking issue in the present?

The fourth Robin decided to avoid the topic and choose his words carefully around Red Hood. Through years of pain and struggle that came with the heroes' night life, they had accepted each other as allies. Outside the mask they learned of each other as people. They saw and shared their interests and fears.

Slowly they became brothers.

“I realized Tim must have regained some of his memories. He at least remembers Jason’s death, what Joker did. Jason, you know, doesn’t react well to talking about what happened. They were feeding into each other's stress so after Jason gave me Tim, I told him that I could take care of the kid. Tim was begging me to not let Jason leave, but Jason had to get away. Little Wing needed some space to calm down. So after I told Jay to leave, Tim got upset with me. He thought I was just letting Jason die, that I didn’t care,” Grayson told, tears in his eyes. He had to pause to breathe and suppress a sob. “I took him into the bedroom and tried to calm him down. By the time I was able to explain anything, he collapsed in my arms. I think that was when the Pit took over.”

Drake, this Drake remembers?

If he has memories then, could he be the real Tim Drake?

Pennyworth pulled out a Wayne Tech scan thermometer and put it aside before speaking.

“I see, I am sorry you had to go through that Master Dick,” Pennyworth comforted.

Pennyworth opened his arms to Grayson. The man dashed into the elder’s arms and sniffled quietly. The butler then extended an arm to Damian, though the boy was hesitant to join. He felt something painful inside and decided to accept the invitation.

“You’ve both done so well with the struggles we have faced these past weeks. Master Dick please know Master Jason’s passing was not your fault. You did the best you could with the situation.” The younger man shivered in the older man’s arms. “And Master Damian, thank you for helping your brothers. Especially since they are both injured. I am proud of you.” Damian's cheeks burned as he nodded in the hold. “I am proud of both you boys and are glad you are both a part of this family.”

“You’re extra sappy this morning Alf,” Grayson giggled.

“It’s hardly morning my boy, you two should head back to bed,” Pennyworth said. The butler parted with the pair and grabbed the thermometer again. He scanned the sleeping boy’s forehead and frowned.

“Oh dear,” he whispered.

Grayson peaked at the device and frowned.

“Baby Bird’s got a fever too, poor little guy. At least it’s low though.”

“Yes, a hundred degree temperature is not something to become too alarmed about. Though I fear it may be a sign of an infection. I will need to consult Doctor Thompkins on this matter” Pennyworth sighed. “You two head off to bed. I can handle this matter.”

Damian knew Grayson would not want to leave Drake, and truly Damian didn’t want to leave either. Damian told himself he just wanted to be ready in case Drake tried to escape, but in reality, he felt a little perturbed. Drake wanting to “start over” with him, had caught the teen off guard. The child’s pleading gaze and earnestness scratch at the metal armor around Damian's heart. Drake, now being sick, made the metal feel uncomfortably tight around his organ. The ex assassin wasn’t ready to take any of the armour off, but he did loosen it.

“I want to s-stay,” Damian tried to say confidently. “I want to assist in Drake’s care.”

Grayson whipped his head over and stared at Damian. His gaudy expression was both repulsively joyous and annoyingly surprised.

“Baby Bat,” Grayson sang. He stalked over arms spread like a bear about to hunt salmon. “Look who's starting to come around.”

Damian took a step back and glared at the buffoon.

“I am only staying in case Drake’s condition worsens or Pennyworth needs assistance restraining him,” Damian hissed.

“Aww come here!”

“I will stab you Grayson! You will need more stitches!”

Grayson caught Damian in a bear hug, lifting his little brother up and shaking him a bit. Damian made quite a few upset noises, but didn’t fight back too much. He was blushing up to his ears, by the time Pennyworth let out a loud sigh at their antics.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred had only allowed Master Damian and Dick to stay with Master Tim in the guest room, if they both agreed to actually sleep. He wanted all three young masters to get at least three more hours of sleep, heavens know they all needed it. He also allowed Master Damian to bring the dogs in so they won’t become too restless without him. Alfred suspected the teen also wanted them for comfort and security.

Once the boys were settled, Alfred decided to phone Doctor Thompskin. She shared Alfred’s worries that the fever came from an infection. Wounds on hands and fingers tend to be more susceptible to infection, they have complex anatomies bacteria love to slip into. Also humans tend to use them to interact with the world. Any surface could hold devious germs that lie in wait for an opportunity to attack. Master Tim had repeatedly opened his wounds on his fingers these past days, it would be easy for something to invade and fester.

Modern medicine was always in an arms race with nature, the medication the boy was on could only go so far. The doctor planned to visit the coming afternoon to check on Master Tim. She stressed that if Master Tim’s fever went to one hundred and five degrees, he was to be sent to a hospital.

When Alfred opened the door for his third round of checking in on the youngsters, he was startled by a tiny body blocking his way. Master Tim was swaying before the doorway, one hand in front of himself as if he was holding the door handle. The boy was covered in sweat, his hair plastered thickly to his forehead. His eyes were thankfully not glowing, but were squinting like he was trying to focus. The boy was using Ace as support, leaning heavily on the large dog. Ace, being the good boy he was, didn’t appear to mind. In fact the dog seemed to be encouraging it, nuzzling the boy’s side and flashing his legendary puppy dog eyes up at the child. Titus, an equally good boy, stood on Master Tim’s right and was pressing his body to the boy’s side. Alfred concluded Titus was trying to help the fever ridden child stay balanced. The dog’s eyes held so much concern as they flickered to Alfred with a whimper.

Oh dear

“Al … Alfred?” Tim wheezed.

“Master Tim” Alfred responded, touching the back of his hand to Master Tim’s forehead. The butler could feel heat radiating from the boy’s flesh through the glove. “My dear boy, let's get you back to bed. You must be feeling awful."

Master Tim weakly pushed the elder man’s hand away. He tried to stand up straighter, causing Ace to whimper and Titus to push his head under the boy’s hand.

“I’m okay … just a cold. I … I need to find Bruce. He’s been in the cave too long,” Tim murmured. His shoulders stopped shaking, his spine went ramrod straight, and his face twitched into an attempted smile. It reminded Alfred of past gala’s, where a tired, borderline ill, Timothy Drake would try to act like nothing was wrong. The watchful eyes of Janet and Jack Drake would scrutinize the boy for the whole event. When he’d slouch or lean, they’d tap him hard on the shoulder or give him a shake. The little heir would jerk back into proper posture with a smile. A smile so hollow, he seemed more like a doll than a person.

“Master Tim, Master Bruce is working on an important case and does wish to be disturbed.”

“I need to tell him. I need to tell him,” Tim mumbled, trying to move into the hallway.

“Baby Bird?” Dick mumbled, just waking up.

“Tell him what Master Tim?” Alfred asked, not letting the boy pass him. The butler did not want to force the boy unless necessary. Another Pit episode while sick would be dangerous.

“Jason’s alive! He needs to know so he won’t be sad anymore! Robin’s back, he needs to … needs to know,” Tim continued. His voice awoke Damian, who silently watched the conversation continue.

“Master Tim, I promise you he is already aware of Master Jason’s return. Let’s get you back to bed and take your temperature,” Alfred said. He tried to guide the boy to the bed, but the child weakly resisted..

“Oh … I should go …I should go home then. Thanks for letting me sleep here,” Tim said back.

Oh Master Tim

Alfred put together what the boy was thinking about. The butler knew Master Tim became Robin to save Batman. The lad made it very clear during his Robin days.

Alfred could see little twelve year old Tim Drake, begging Alfred to teach him how to make “hang over cures” for Master Bruce.

Before the boy even started training Master Bruce struggled with alcoholism.

On bad nights the head of the Wayne household would turn to a bottle for comfort. When Alfred first noticed Master Wayne drinking heavily before bed, he tried to intervene. He tried to convince the bat this was not the way to mourn his bird. Bruce Wayne had put down the bottle for a few days, only for Batman to pick it back up. Alfred once again scolded the hero for his drinking and risk taking, only to be ignored. Master Bruce would tell the butler he was an adult, he could make his own choices even if there were bad ones. After a long loud discussion, Alfred hoped he’d made an impact and disillusioned himself into thinking he did. Alfred saw less scatter bottles and drunken steps.

He later learned his adoptive son just got better at hiding it. The younger man would sneak it when he could and lock himself away with it when he couldn’t.

The butler, the servant and shadow of the Wayne family, felt great shame. He had failed to protect the son of Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne. He had failed to care for Master Jason’s father in his absence. He had failed to support Gotham’s Dark Knight.

He was failing his Bruce.

“Please Alfred, teach me how to make you magic tea. Bruce always looks better after he has one, you know when he’s hung over,” the Robin in training begged.

“Master Tim, you need not worry yourself with this. Master Bruce is going through a rough patch, but I am working to find a way to help him. You are a child, his health is his and mine responsibility. It would be unfair to put his burdens on your shoulders,” Alfred responded sternly. His words felt like lies, but he ignored it.

“I may be a child, but I am also training to be Robin. I want to be his sidekick, his back up, his right hand man- well boy. Robin supports Batman and Batman needs Robin. I want to keep Bruce happy too, I want him not to be lost in the haze of regret. My training to become Robin is so I can help Batman and Bruce Wayne,” Tim stated with fierce resolution.

His face was confident for a moment, then when Alfred did not respond, it crumbled. The emotion was something Alfred couldn’t quite name.

“Please, Alfred, please let me help. Please teach me how to help. I won’t try to take this burden alone, if you don’t either.”

Alfred pondered for a bit, it was true Master Tim could be there for Master Bruce when the butler was not around. He could also directly assist Batman as his vigilante partner. Perhaps this boy could help heal his son.

But the butler could also tell the child in front of him was lying about not taking on too much.

Even though Alfred was tired and worn down then, he still felt disgusted with himself when he accepted Master Tim’s offer.

Did Master Tim save Master Bruce?

Yes

Did it harm the boy in the process?

Yes

Did Master Tim know he didn’t need to earn his keep, all these years later? Did Master Tim ever feel like he was loved for who he was and not what he could do for others?

Alfred didn’t dare answer, for answering would open a dam of pain years in the making.

Would he allow another second to go with Tim Drake, his beloved grandson, feeling this way? To continue to only see his presence allowed in this home, when he was acting as Batman’s emotional support?

Would Alfred still contribute to Tim believing he had to earn basic scraps of their love?

No

“Master Tim, you must stay. You might not remember or understand, but my boy, you are a part of this family. We want you to stay with us,” Alfred said gently. He rested a hand on the boy's mostly white locks, gently rubbing the strands. Unsurprisingly Master Tim’s face morphed into a painful confused expression. He opened and closed his mouth unsure of how to respond.

“You don’t need to do anything for us, you are simply loved,” Alfred promised.

Master Damian snapped his finger quietly, at the command, both dogs went rigid. Ace slowly backed away and quietly headed over to the teen. While Titus glanced at Master Damian, then Master Tim, and back again. He let out a small whimper and Damian only raised an eyebrow in response. After giving Master Tim one last lick on the wrist, he slowly passed over to join the other dog.

“Y-you’re right I don’t understand. Jason is alive, you don’t need me anymore! Why is everything so wrong? Why am I wrong?” Master Tim cried. He grabbed his hair and pulled violently, his eyes were starting to glow. “I need to leave! Batman doesn’t need me anymore! Why am I still here!?!”

Master Dick started to get out of bed, only to be stopped by Master Damian. The two shared a look and surprisingly Damian was the one to approach Master Tim. Alfred watched as the little bat stood behind his sick brother. With a gentleness that Alfred only saw Master Damian share with animals, the teen wrapped his arms around the child. Tim let out a small flinch, but Damian simply waited for a moment before crossing his arms over Tim’s chest.

“Drake, stop hurting yourself. You are not at fault and no one is mad at you. Father does not want you to leave just because Todd has returned. I know the world is ... different than what you remember and that scares you. We too are struggling to understand what has caused this mess,” Damian paused and grasped Tim’s wrist. “But know this, we want you to stay here, to rest. Everyone in the manor wants to help you and we need you to let us. There is nothing you can solve when sick, I'm sure you know a fever ridden mind clouds thoughts and judgments. So come lie down and let us take care of you. We can find the answers you seek together, after you are well.”

Master Tim’s lips wobbled, he turned in the embrace and buried his face in Master Damian’s chest. Damian looked a little surprised, but quickly recovered and cradled the child in his arms. Clearly, Damian had taken some notes from Master Dick for the hug, quite pleasant for Tim.

“I-I’m sorry” Tim heartbreakingly whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now come, your fever has clearly worsened,” Damian said into Tim’s hair.

Alfred had never been more proud.