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Tim yawned, arms stretching leisurely above his head. He relished in the pleasant burn of his muscles as the suns shone through the parted curtains that hung on either side of his windows. He hummed, turning toward the clothes rack that hung innocuous by his closet, only to freeze.
He rushes forward, the relaxed air he had about him evaporating like dew under sun as he frantically rips the clothes and hangers off the rack, leaving behind a mess of clothes and a violent sort of fear that threatens to swallow him whole.
“Shit,” Tim cursed under his breath, trying his best to keep calm while his mind raced.
His pelt- his second skin- was missing, and Tim had no clue where it was.
He sucked in a breath before retracing his steps. Ever since he’d gotten comfortable with the Waynes, Tim had begun to wear his pelt everywhere around the manor, which ultimately meant finding it was going to be hell.
He storms out of the room and rushes toward the library.
“What’s got you all in a hurry?” Jason remarked, looking up from where he was lounging by the fire, blankets thrown haphazardly over his lap as he braced a book against his raised knee.
Tim doesn’t respond, instead turning slowly in a circle, his eyes raking across every inch in the room as he tries to sense his pelt.
Jason’s brow furrowed, a concerned tone washing over the teasing, “...Tim?”
He snarled wordlessly, glaring at Jason from the corner of his eyes. He needs to find his pelt- he needs to. Without his pelt, he’ll never be able to feel the water glide against his fur as he twisted through the currents like a bird curling through the air. Sure, he could just swim in his human skin, but it wasn’t the same.
“Jesus, didn’t know we had three Bruces in the manor,” Jason scoffed, glaring before turning his attention back to his book in his lap.
With a frustrated and distressed scream, Tim realized his pelt was not in the library and stormed out again, all the while pointedly ignoring Jason’s concerned calls.
His next destination was the cave.
“Tim?” Bruce looked up from his seat by the Batcomputer, his brows furrowed in his own silent concern as Tim rampaged through the wide cavern.
“Where is it?!” he snapped, fighting to keep his breathing level as tears began to pool in his eyes. At this point, he’ll never be able to return to the sea again. What was a selkie without his pelt? What was Tim without his pelt? Nothing, that’s what.
It was then that Tim’s day went from terrible, to disastrous. A ringing sound filled the room, causing both Tim and Bruce to freeze.
Bruce answered with a stoic expression, “Hello? Who is this?”
“No one you should be worried about,” the voice responded cryptically, “but let your little birdie know... I have his second skin, and if he doesn’t believe me...”
Tim feels a piercing sensation bloom across his chest. It was sudden and sharp, not allowing him a single moment to prepare and instead forced Tim to brace himself against the steel table.
“Tim!” Bruce cried as the blaring dial tone filled the cave, bouncing off the walls and startling the bats from their roost as he rushed to Tim’s side, “Tim- what happened? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to find that bastard,” Tim spat with an anger he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The man’s expression pinched, “You can’t.”
He crosses his arms defiantly as venom begins to drip into his words, “And why not, Bruce?”
“You don’t know who that was.”
“Correction, you don’t know who that man is,” Tim hisses, “I do.”
“Then who is he? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Tim sneers, “Then good thing I don’t need or want your damn help! This does not involve you!”
“Tim-”
He shoves past the man with a single-minded goal, ignoring all the human’s attempts to communicate.
Bruce, of course, tries to chase after him. He tries to stall Tim’s movements by placing a hand on the selkie’s shoulder. But rather than halting, Tim twists around and sinks his teeth into the flesh of Bruce’s hand. The man flinches back with a surprised shout, and Tim took the chance and bolts the fuck away.
The motorcycle rumbled under him as Tim tore through the streets, ignoring all traffic laws like any other good Gothamite as he streaked toward his next location. His chest continued to burn with a throbbing pain, and he knew it would only continue unless he got his pelt back. That bastard of a bitch Julius Alexander was a poacher who Tim had handed to the police a while back. He was a wily bitch, and figured out Tim’s secret before the Bats could. What Tim didn’t know was how the man managed to get his pelt.
Tim left his motorcycle by an alley and made his way in. It was the entrance to the cellar where he’d first arrested the poacher.
“Alexander,” Tim snarled, his muscles tense and coiled in agitation as he stared down the man holding a knife in his right hand, and Tim’s pelt in his left, “What the fuck do you want?”
The man grinned, running his knife along the length of his pelt’s spine. Any damage done to the pelt would reflect onto Tim, which meant if the man decided to slit the throat of the pelt, then if Tim ever decided to shift into his seal skin, then he’d nearly instantly bleed out. Well, unless he got it mended, but how would he do that when basically nobody knew of his identity?
“How about we strike a deal, Robin? ” Julius taunted, a shiver running down Tim’s spine at the sensation of a phantom knife dragging along his second skin, “You assist me in my little… hobby, and I’ll consider not breaking your spine. How about that, hm?”
“You-” Tim gasped in pain, a certain anger pushing at his throat and threatening to overtake him.
“Ah-ah,” the man tutted, his hold on Tim’s skin tightening to a painful degree, “one more step, and I promise you the sea will never sing for you again.”
The selkie inhaled sharply, the mere thought of the ocean turning its back on him was enough for nausea and distress churn in his gut. To swim was to be free- but if he could never be free again... then what was the point of living?
“Very good,” Alexander grinned. Tim wasn’t naturally a creature prone to violence, but when someone threatens his pelt- everything is shoved off the table. “Now, let me lay out some terms-”
But before either of them could make a move, a startling boom filled the air while a bright flash blinded them. Tim cries out as a sharp pain blooms across the back of his neck. He falls to the ground, wheezing and crying as the pain threatens to overwhelm him. His pelt- his pelt-
“Tim!” a voice cries distantly as he barely registered the commotion a few feet away, “Tim, did he shoot you? What happened? What’s-”
He snarled wordlessly, shaking his head rapidly as he surged toward the tattered hoodie left forgotten on the ground. The selkie’s fists closed around the “fabric”, and Tim shoves himself into the closest corner he could.
Ignoring the confused calls, Tim runs his hand down his tattered pelt. And, just as he feared, the neck of his pelt was slashed. Tears burned his eyes as Tim buried his face into the fabric, sobs rattling his body as he held his skin with a tenderness only his mother displayed toward it.
“What were you thinking?!”
“Jason, shouldn’t you wait a bit before-?” he vague registered the voice as being Duke's.
“Don’t you have your patrol to get to?”
“Look, man, he’s clearly upset! Why don’t you wait a bit before interrogating him?”
“It’s okay, Signal, we’ve got it from here. Jason, he has a point. Let- let me try talking to him first,” footsteps approached, and Tim felt himself tense, “Tim? Is everything okay?”
Tim slowly raised his head from his pelt, his vision blurry with tears as he gently cradled his second skin tighter against his chest. With a small, warbling voice, Tim responds, “My- my skin.”
Dick’s brows furrowed, and the selkie couldn’t help but feel as if he was once again a pup being cradled in his mother’s arms, “What do you mean? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, so help me-”
“NO!” Tim screamed, his teeth bared as the frustration, anguish, and distress from the past few hours coalesced into a dense lump in his throat, “My- my skin!”
He was never going to be one with the ocean ever again, so why would it matter now?
“...Your jacket?” Dick frowned, “If your jacket got ripped, then we could always buy a new one. If that doesn’t interest you either, then Alfred-”
“Dickface, back up,” Jason ordered before shoving Dick aside despite his protest. The man sighed, kneeling down in front of Tim with a steady expression, “...you’re a child of the sea?”
Tim feels his chest grow cold, his eyes widening as he stares at Jason with confusion and horror churning in his gut, “W-what...?”
Jason gave a wry grin, “My neighbor was a child of the sea, and she taught me a little bit. We can have Alfred sew you up, then I can take you to the beach, and-”
“Will someone please explain?” Dick stressed, confusion and concern etched across his face as his eyes darted between the pair.
“You’ll find out sooner or later,” Jason shrugged nonchalantly, “c’mon, Timmy. Enough of that doing things on your own- you’re not Bruce, are you?”
“Bold words coming from you,” Tim sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes as Jason helped him to his feet, “...Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jason waved him off, “we’re here for you, got it?”
“...Yeah.”
“How about some ice cream in a few hours?” Dick interjects with an uncertain smile that grows more secure as Tim’s tears dry, “Courtesy of B, of course.”
“That would be nice,” Tim nodded despite the throbbing pain that refused to leave the back of his mind. Though now that he could share his secret with someone else, Tim feels the weight lift from his shoulders.
Jason gives him a look, and the selkie shoots a small smile back. They’ll figure things out, Tim’s sure of it.