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Tim used to play his games with society.
In the days when Gotham seemed so quiet. In the days where the streets seemed so empty and dim. Where fog misted the streets and the criminals had a crisis only once or twice a month. Where a signal called attention of her mysterious silent protector. Where a purple Lamborghini sped down the streets with the jester royals and a shadow swinging after it in a never ending chase. Where a child's laughter echoed across the pavement and bounced in all directions. Where a calculating eye loomed around the corner waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Where when guns were shot all you’d see was a grin as he danced around the bullets, knowing he was safe. Where another small shadow lurked behind the others, with some old film and a torn scarf.
It all seemed so weathered now. Like a vintage photograph in a dusty box in the attic, yellowed and abandoned. But they still always knew it was there, in the back of their minds, they could never truly forget. Happy times that were lost, and aching memories that it left behind.
Gotham seemed so much more empty back then but the good kind of empty. Like when you stay after school for a niche club. The kind of empty that made him feel like he could just relax with no one else around but still be present.
Now it was explosions every other night and a city filled with bats and birds. Now there is black and purple insults , and swords being used to keep people alive. Now there was child warriors taking on armies, and a take down or a break out or a crisis coming in twos. And sometimes all of them aren’t there and sometimes they all are. Sometimes they are dead and sometimes they aren’t. A city filled with lies where the truth could get you killed and secrets tear people apart.
The jesters have divorced. The laughter had matured. The eyes were trapped behind screens. The grins came before the gunshots. The film had all run out and the scarf was in threads.
Now it’s all a fast paced video with too many action sequences and adrenaline rushes. And Tim learned to love that too.
Tim remembered a time as Robin where it was an old photograph, he remembered a time as Robin when it became an action movie. Everyone else remembers either/or, no one remembers the in between.
Except him.
He remembers when the protectors were acrobats and street kids instead of assassins and spies. Remembers when weapons weren’t a problem and the city was black and white. Wrong or right.
Now everything was grey and in between. Neither wrong nor right.
Everything changed.
Except Tim’s game, which never changes even when the players do.
“Change is neither negative nor positive, but it will always be constant.”
It doesn’t change.
It adapts .
OoOoO
If someone had told Tim 7 years ago that he’d have siblings, he would’ve been quietly happy.
Because when Tim was 10 he knew he couldn’t jump for joy like most children would. His upbringing had already ingrained into his mind. His mother gave him one thing willingly and that was the .19 millimetre (he had never used it as Robin but he carried it in a secret pocket near the small of his back since he had lost the title, not that anyone knows that) and a suit of light kevlar armour(that he’d later make to inspire his new Red Robin uniform) passed down from when she quietly ruled the KGB in Soviet Russia with an iron fist.
But Tim would, in fact, enjoy having a sibling; older, younger, he didn’t really care. If it was younger, he could teach them how to make film in his dark room and shot at the right angles to get a perfect picture. If it was older, they’d help him with his homework, even if he didn’t need it, and they’d read them to sleep and they could watch movies together. And, most of all, he wouldn’t be so alone in the manor where the silence screeches down the halls.
Yes, Tim has silently longed for a sibling, but he’d never dare to ask as a child. Tim has only ever asked for two things from his parents in his entire life.
There were rules for wanting things in his life; it was the first part of the game. His parents, while rich, did not intend to spoil him. It was one of his mother’s many philosophies as to moulding how he should be. Whenever he was to ask for something, he’d first have to prove he was worthy of it, and also have a reasonable use for it, to ensure it did not go to waste.
The camera, for example, was a hobby that Tim wanted to take initiative with. Schoolwork was tedious and boring, but given that he’d study hard. Piano and Ballet were to make certain he was well versed in the classical arts and physically healthy and well balanced. Those were things he didn’t hate, because Tim loved to learn and he loved to fill the empty space with notes when his parents were away and ballet was a quiet sport that took discipline and grace.
But photography was his choice, and his choice alone.
His mother asked him for the purpose of it, and Tim answer was that he enjoyed seeing pretty things and wanted to remember them.
When she handed the camera over he scrambled to take a picture of her first. His mother was a deadly kind of beautiful, a kind he feared, but admired. Respected. A kind that he wasn’t permitted to love nor permitted to expect love. That was something he could never earn, so it was pointless to try.
That day was the first time he remembers she smiled at him without any reason. It was the last time she did so as well.
The last thing he asked for was a personal computer when he was 11, he earned it with his final performance as a ballet dancer and graduating from middle school early. His reasoning was to understand and learn more than he ever could with books, with an endless database of knowledge at his disposal. He had read all about coding and understood what the proper use of the piece of technology was. His mother had firmly nodded, and bought the piece of equipment for him.
The rules were he got what he wanted only if: It was earned, there was an acceptable reason for owning it, and it was a reasonable request.
And asking his mother to obtain another child to appease his solitude was, unfortunately, an unreasonable request.
Now, Tim thinks, he’s kinda glad he didn’t have siblings at a young age.
Because 7 years ago it wasn’t even a possibility and it made sense. But now-
“Drake you’re pathetic.” Damian sounded as arrogant as ever in the morning. Tim sighed into his coffee mug. That would be his fifth one this morning. Damian didn’t hesitate to point out the clear dependence his older brother had on the substance.
“You work 35 hours straight on a case brat and tell me how you feel. This coffee was well earned.” he hummed back taking a slow sip of his mug, even as Damian reeled back in disgust.
“Timmy!” Dick moaned in disappointment, glomping onto him. Tim shrugged him off, before he could lean on Tim too much. Too close . His mind blared a bit and he stepped away from his clingy brother. “You shouldn’t have coffee, you should have sleep .”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Tim mumbled to his coffee. He wasn’t sure Dick heard.
“And what’s with calling the demon brat, ‘brat’, brat . ” Jason hummed as he stabbed his fork into his eggs.
“You can’t call both of them brats. He’s younger, the title goes to Dami.” Steph said gesturing to Damian from where she sat on the counter. Damian glared at her and swatted the hand away as she grinned.
“He’s the demon brat. Duke isn’t a brat. Replacement is the spoiled brat.” Tim’s shoulders stiffened a bit at that, it was a reflex. He didn’t actually care. Jason had called him ‘spoiled’ dozens of times. And theoretically it was true… theoretically . It was more annoying now, it used to frustrate him a bit when Jason hadn’t bothered to get to know him even a little. Tim wasn’t spoiled , his parents made sure of that.
“I’m not a brat.” Damian announced. Which only succeeded in making him sound like a brat.
“Woah, back up. Spoiled brat?” Duke asked, pointing at Tim with a raised brow from where he was seated next to Damian. “I’ve literally seen him eat garbage ramen.” Tim smirked. Duke was new to the manor, and he was slowly learning all of their backstories before they became apart of the batfamily. The thing is, Tim’s backstory was kinda shifty anyway. Not that anyone bother to question it, much less ask. They just kind of assumed based on his profile and accepted him for what he was. Not a stray, but not exactly claimed either. Tim does what he wants, he’s just quiet about it; he doesn’t make waves, doesn’t rebel, just…can’t exactly be controlled either.
Duke knew Dick was an acrobat from when he saw the flying Grayson posters, and that Jason was a street kid when Duke caught him pilfering food from the kitchen for his stash. He knew Cass was a former assassin, but really who knew anything much beyond that ( besides Tim, he just wouldn’t say because he was sworn to secrecy). Steph always complained about her dad, she never really hid that she was Sports-Master’s daughter. And Damian was proud of his blood in all aspects and didn’t miss an opportunity to use it as proof of his superiority.
Duke had found about their pasts naturally and in pieces, but not a scrap about Tim’s. It wasn’t odd when Tim thought about it though, everything he was taught as a kid was so intertwined in everything he did that he didn’t even feel the need to mention it. It’s just Tim being Tim . Nevermind the fact that none of it lined up with how regular society kids acted or even how regular neglected kids acted; the rest of his siblings don’t know enough about that to have a base of comparison, given that they avoid society kids at all costs.
It’s not like he had any interesting stories anyway. Well, aside from when he skulked in the shadows of shadows, with the purple lamborghinis and the laughter and the waiting and smiles. But those were memories he wasn’t supposed to have, those were locked and never to be looked at again, just like how everyone else had done.
Those were his moments, no one else's.
“Didn’t you know?” Jason’s grin was wicked and snapped Tim out of his thoughts as they met eyes. “The Replacement here is a born and raised trust fund baby. Silver spoon in his mouth and everythin’.” He said like Tim didn’t want him to. Tim doesn’t really care honestly, as long as they judge him for his current skills and not his past, he couldn’t care less what sort of ‘information’ they had on him pre-robin.
“ Tim ? Timothy Jackson Drake?” Duke said in a deadpan, looking disbelievingly at him up and down then back at Jason. “I don’t buy it.” Jason spluttered and Steph looked like she was holding back a fit of laughter. Duke crossed his arms and huffed. “How can I? The coffee addict I found dumpster diving for scrap metal to build a bottle cap robot? He’s the high society brat?” Steph snorted at that as Cass smiled as Duke scoffed “No way.” Tim mumbled that he was scavenging . He and the old man who ran the scrap yard were good friends.
“The very same.” Jason grinned. Duke’s eyes widened as Steph and Dick nodded their confirmation.
“Fuck off, not like it actually means anything.” Tim mumbled irritated, averting his gaze into his mug.
In truth, he used to be a bit insecure about this. Being the only one who came from a family who didn’t actively abuse him and/or wasn’t in the lowest society class. It was just a little nagging thought in the back of his mind that he didn’t have as hard of a life as his siblings. He had nothing to complain about, and it used to make him feel like he wasn’t getting some sort of punchline. But now he knew that being rich before Bruce, meant shit in this family. Other than a few jokes or jabs, it really didn’t do much.
“Wait so it’s true?” Duke asked, too quickly and Tim blinked at the awed tone. No one gave this much attention to the fact that he was born to wealth. Usually it would get him a scoff at most and they’d move on.
“Woah, easy there tiger.” Dick smiled good naturedly and patted Tim’s head and when did he get so close? “Timmy hasn’t had his fix yet, he might not boot up until his third cup.” he joked and Tim would’ve growled, but something else was building in his chest. This is the longest they’ve talked about Tim’s Pre-Robin.
“This is my fifth cup.” Tim said automatically.
“Ti-mmyyyy!” Dick groaned and okay, too loud. Back it up. Too close, too loud . And what the fuck , this was just breakfast . Why was it so-
Oh yeah…people…real people were loud…they weren’t fake. This conversation wasn’t made up, and he was just tired. Well, he is tired, but everyone here is real…probably…
“Okay?” he was snapped back into reality as Cass touched him and since when had Dick gone away? They weren’t talking about him anymore, they must have carried on. He lost time thinking about real and fake again. He forgot he wasn’t alone sometimes.
“Yeah.” he nodded and Steph blurted.
“He lives, y’all!” she said and threw her hands up.
“Dammit, I thought he was actually brain dead for a second.” Jason huffed handing a five to Dick, who was bouncing up and down in his seat.
“Of course we wouldn’t be so lucky.” Damian muttered. Tim rolled his eyes and went back to sipping his cup of coffee. Existential crises were a given for him. His siblings didn’t have to know that.
“That’s not normal dude, you sure you’re okay?” Duke asked, head cocking in concern. Tim blinked at him again. Duke’s questions continued to astound him because no one questioned him like this before . Everyone before were content to just take Tim at face value and not question him further. Not that anyone needed to question him; he was fine . “uh Tim?” he asked a bit awkwardly.
Tim’s brain finally kicked into gear. “Yes!” Tim said flustered “Oh shit, I thought it, but I forgot to say it. Yeah, I’m good.” Dick started laughing and Duke only looked more concerned.
“What the actual- that’s not normal .” Duke enunciated leaning forward and Tim leaned back and averted his eyes. No one else seemed bothered. Or at least they weren’t showing it if they were. Maybe Duke was being dramatic. No, Duke was definitely being dramatic, Tim was fine.
“We dress up as bats and birds and other things that fly and fight themed criminals, but being a bit slow in the morning is where you draw the line?” Tim raised a brow and sipped his coffee.
“Point.” Duke mumbled as he took a bite out of his waffles. “So what about you?” Duke asked, and Tim could only assume he was referencing the conversation he’d zoned out on. Great . He had literally just gotten Duke off his back.
“What about me?” Tim asked as he plucked a berry from the bowl in front of him. Duke looked at him weird “I wasn’t paying attention.” he said sheepishly, Damian scoffed and opened his mouth as if to speak.
“Your life before this.” Duke answered before Damian could get in a word, eyes trained on Tim. Tim, for his part, refrained from choking, before swallowing and raising a brow. He must’ve not caught it in time because Steph was snickering.
“Why were you talking about that?” Tim asked, glaring at the girl.
“Why not?” Duke asked, confused.
“Seems kinda depressing.” Tim grumbled, carefully keeping his eyes steady and posture casual as he dodged the obvious question. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious, because if he was hiding something and the others caught on then they’d for sure go digging. It was a given in this family. And it’s not like he’s hiding anything anyway, it’s just he doesn’t know how to word it. His childhood was just a blurry memory, everything that wasn’t on the streets were fuzzed and muddled. Almost like he didn’t have a life between the Circus and Robin, outside the lies and shadow stalking. He didn’t.
“Well if you were listening then maybe you’d see it wasn’t so depressing.” Jason huffed and Tim rolled his eyes at him.
“Oh please, you bitch about your street-rat depressing childhood all the time.” Tim scoffed, Jason glared at him and Tim sent a smirk his way.
“Fuck you, there were good parts, richie rich.” Jason puffed up his chest.
“Pray tell.” Tim drawled, giving him a dry look.
“Like that muffin dude that gave me an extra one because he knows I did his dishes if he gave me free grub.” Jason retorted. Meaning: Jason was working from a young age to provide for himself - which he already knew - also that he didn’t know about child labor laws. Yeah, really happy.
“Yeah, I mean we all have a happy memory even if most of our childhoods were kinda depressing.” Dick said and Tim knew his life was great before even if he wasn’t wealthy, he had a loving family.
“Even the baby assassin?” he gestured over to Damian, only half serious in getting an answer. Glossing over Cass because Cass got to travel the world. She said it wasn’t fun then, because she had to kill, but she always remembered the small interesting things about each culture, which is why she tries to have an affinity for hers.
“Yes, mother took me on culturally enriching training trips, which often ended up being undercover as standard mother and son.” Damian huffed, looking a little offended. Meaning: Damian got the mother he yearned for under the guise of an undercover mission. Of course Talia would be so cruel as to only love her son for make believe. Not that Janet was any better…
“Yeah and when mom wasn’t high off her ass we’d have picnics on the roof of our apartment.” Steph said. Meaning: Steph cherished the little time she had before her mother went full-time addict. At least that’s better than Jason, who’s mom actually ODed.
“I had a good life, like no friends my age but I couldn’t really complain. I loved my parents and got to travel with a circus. Not much money, but I can’t complain.” Dick shrugs. Meaning: Dick never had a stable home and was isolated to interacting with mainly adults and circus animals.
“Yeah, you had a roof over your head.” Jason grumbled.
“A travelling one, never stayed in one place.” Dick said back.
“So no real home?” Cass said in a familiar tone. Dick nodded. “Me too.” she hummed. Yeah, she travelled a lot, but she was killing people instead of performing. Also she wasn’t allowed to literally communicate with anybody or even learn a language besides body language.
“Yes, but at least you got to travel Cain. I had to go through gruelling training before even being allowed to go on missions.” Damian huffed and Cass smiled a bit.
“Trained too.” Cass pointed out and Damian huffed and looked away as Cass smiled.
“Yes, but I am saying that you got to travel while doing so. Yes?” Cass nodded and Damian made an affirming noise as if he just proved his point.
“At least you all had a roof.” Jason mentioned again and Tim refrained from rolling his eyes. “I didn’t most of the time, or food for that matter.”
“Then how did you survive?” Duke asked and Damian scoffed. It was a pretty dumb question.
“Steal or do odd jobs.” Jason replied and Tim had to give him props for not rolling his eyes.
“Which in this city, means drug dealer.” Tim mumbled, Jason snapped his eyes over to him.
“Fuck you, Replacement.” Tim just took a sip of his coffee as he flipped the older man the bird. Jason huffed and kicked his chair in response, which wobbled before he regained his balance. Some of his coffee spilled on him though, so Jason ended with a satisfied smirk.
“Hey, I got evicted enough times to know what it’s like living in a box. God knows how many times mom just up and left for a week after we got kicked out.” Steph huffed in indignation. Jason gave her an affirming look.
“And I had to earn anything I wanted through hard training, including food.” Damian said in a similar tone.
“Is this a competition?” Tim mumbled to Duke who shrugged, looking helpless. Damian apparently heard.
“Oh Drake, like you have any stance if this was.” he said and Tim shrugged. He was right. Tim has always had a roof over his head, could go anywhere he wanted, and always had food. He had a great life.
So how did I end up here?
“It’s too early for this.” he grumbled as he took a bite out of his now unappetizing berries. They tasted sour. Duke looked at him curiously.
“Do you?” Duke asked Tim who blinked at him.
“Do I what?” Tim asked, playing dumb.
“Have any ‘happy’ memories.” Duke said, putting the air quotes around the happy, because in reality this was about seeing who had the saddest happy memory. Those memories were more depressing, but Tim just had a different lens than his siblings. Literally.
“Something happy?” Tim wondered and stared at the ceiling.
Good question.
He didn’t really have any bad memories but he didn’t have any happy memories either. They were all just…memories. No good, no bad, just neutral. He didn’t miss it, but he didn’t regret it. They were just events that happened around him and not to him.
“Huh.”
“I mean it should be easy for you I guess.” Duke said offhandedly, not noticing when Tim didn’t say anymore. Tim went back to sifting through for something , cuz now everyone was looking at him expectantly.
He thought of his mother’s small smile when he had snapped his first picture; the closest she had been to feeling anything resembling warmth he’d ever felt from her. That small moment, second. It seemed like a secret, like it would be tainted if he said anything about it now.
“Yeah, nothing really stands out. I just had a normal one.” Tim lied and shrugged. “I mean I guess that stands out more when it’s rare, no offence.” he looked to the rest of them.
“That’s not an answer.” Duke said and that made Tim pause. That was literally the answer he always gave.
“What yes it is.” Tim said almost defensive. Now everyone looked like their interest was piqued but Tim was getting irritated.
“No you didn’t say anything about your childhood.” Duke huffed and Tim looked at him like he asked a dumb question.
“What’s there to say?” Tim huffed and tried to shrug it off “I had a roof and food, got anything I wanted, could go anywhere I wanted. I was fine.” he said vaguely, staring into his berries. “As long as I behaved.” he didn’t know where it came from, it was a whisper and he wasn’t sure if anyone had heard it. He hoped no one had heard it.
“Behaved?” Duke asked, Tim looked at him unamused. Now that was a stupid question.
“Didn’t complain.” he said dryly, but it was a bit more than that. “or cry” he wondered out loud, staring back to the ceiling to remember the rules. “Sat still. Kept my mouth shut. Smiled when I needed to smile. Say the things I needed to say. Stayed out of the way when I wasn’t needed.” Tim listed off and when he came to look at the rest of his family they were either looking at him in mild horror or blank unreadable faces, so he just put a bite into his mouth casually. “Behaved.” That wasn’t everything, but it was probably the most straight answer to the question he’s ever said. Still he was feeling self conscious with all of them looking at him like that so he focused on Duke’s jaw. “So yeah, not that bad.”
“That sounds controlling.” Steph said casually. Too casually, her eyes were carefully blank.
“So what? Other society parents were way worse. My parents weren’t around to teach me a lesson when I didn’t use the right knot for my tie.” No, Janet was so much worse when he was unkempt. When he stood out and not in a good way. But he won’t tell them that.
“Wow, that’s a lot to unpack.” Steph said dryly, meeting Tim’s forced unbothered stare. They were making him uneasy.
“Like what?” he played stupid. Like an idiot.
“Such as, what does that even mean , Drake?” Damian demanded in a way that Tim knew he was being wary. He glanced around and they all had similar expressions buried.
“It means they didn’t hit me.” Tim bit his lip. “High society parents have...standards. High standards. It’s all about image. The best way to reflect the adult’s image is showing the direct potential of their child.” Tim didn’t like trekking here, especially when they all were adopted by a socialite. They didn’t know how this usually goes, but Bruce was good to them. This kind of thing was sneaky and had hidden motives buried in lies. That’s why he never talked about his parents. Because he didn’t want to stereotype Bruce, because Bruce was fundamentally different . And now that he had said it, he regretted it. Because now, he could tell all his siblings were thinking what Tim didn’t want them to think because they didn’t have to worry about it.
“But father…” Tim almost rolled his eyes at the kid’s predictability. Great, if this causes problems then Bruce will blame me.
“Doesn’t really give a shit about society.” Tim said swiftly, cutting off any budding thoughts of doubt for their collective adopted father. “Everyone has always said Waynes were different, and they are . Bruce didn’t adopt you for his status or image or his own benefit, it literally wouldn’t do anything. There is no way it could get higher and besides he doesn’t need to adopt a million kids to have good standards.” There are about a hundred ways to do that Timothy. The more money you have, the more opportunities; and Bruce Wayne had all the money in the world.
“He might’ve if the rest were screw ups.” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away. Tim tried to refrain from sighing.
“Fuck this is why I don’t talk about it.” Tim muttered as he let his shoulders drop, eyes rolling to the ceiling for a brief second before looking back to his siblings. “Look it’s not a charity case thing, I can tell.” he said to the group and Jason looked him dead in the eye.
“Yeah, how can you tell?” Duke asked, innocently but more reserved and doubtful than he was before.
“Because I’d know.” Tim said back easily.
“Ha” Jason blurted, seeming to snap out of his gloomy fog “s’why he’s the smart bird. He’s not fucked up.” he ruffled his hair and Tim didn’t compute the complement, maybe he was missing the sarcasm. There was way to much forced pep, which, wasn’t that Dick’s thing? When did Jason even get over here? Tim batted his hand away with a glare as the man gave him a wolfish grin.
Smart bird … well it’s not like he has anything else going for him.
OoOoO
Tim’s parents were away often when he was younger.
His house was always empty, that’s why he liked taking back to back sessions at the studio. His house was silent, that’s why he liked to play long winded songs that took a lot of time to practise and memorise. His house was lifeless, that’s why he stayed in the library until the librarian asked him politely to leave with a sad smile on her face that he never quite understood.
When he was six he didn’t need a nanny anymore. He was far too well behaved, or so they said. Tim just thinks his mom didn’t want him to be dependent, which was perfectly reasonable. He never spoke out of turn, because mother said it was rude. He never whined, or screamed or complained, because that was irritating. He never threw tantrums, because that was just unacceptable.
His mother wasn’t around a lot but she taught him a lot of odd things when she was; but also they weren’t actually taught more implied . He absorbed all her lessons like a sponge. She taught him Russian by speaking it without context. She taught him how to throw a knife by doing it once and leaving expecting him to do the same when she returned. She taught him how to manipulate people into getting what he needed with subtle examples he didn’t even know he had comprehended.
The most important thing she taught him was to be quiet, invisible, but still in control. The longer he stayed quiet the more he could hear, observe . The more information he had the more he could understand . The more he understood, the more he could manipulate his way into connections and inner circles and workings. And the more he did that, the more mother would be pleased, or as pleased as she could get while tolerating him.
He was used to analysing people. He used their ticks and gestures to gauge what they were feeling or where their physical/mental weaknesses were. When he met a new person he applied what he already knew, sometimes it was the same, sometimes he got new information to process into the database. He learned completely by observing and compiling the best traits into his own being.
The skill became invaluable as Robin, as much as it confused Bruce and Alfred back in the early days. They had just chalked it up to one of the many strange things about Tim.
With each case he used to solve another. Grabbing bits and pieces form other older cases to solve the next and the next and so on; exploring all possibilities instead of few. It made them easier to solve, easier to predict, easier to expect, easier to react the way he wanted. Each case that he closed, he got a little less surprised.
And just like with people, once he figured it out, it got boring. Which wasn’t good, because when he was bored he lost motivation and without motivation, he would slack off and eventually be fired for subpar work.
So he tried to mix it up. Take more than one thing at a time, he would remain motivated no matter what. With each issue he took on he’d have to solve the problem while juggling the others. If it was so easy for him, then he could take on more right? That was sound reasoning, but also desperate reasoning. And he was desperate.
By the time he’d gotten to that point, he had lost his mother. Then Kon died, then Steph, then Bart, and then Bruce was gone and then so was Robin and Dick had essentially kicked him to the curb with no alternative options and nowhere to go.
And his mind was his only company. For months. His mind wasn’t processing the grief, not processing the change. It was like his database was overloaded and he needed a hard reboot. It was only processing the mission, his mission - to save Batman - the only thing it could do was build off old cases, but none of his cases, or galas, or business interactions could help him process the emotions. He wasn’t sure what to do, he’s never felt something like this and no one was around to tell him what to do.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do: throw himself into his work. Alone . He was a loose canon in Europe, he had lashed out at Dick for no reason at all, because the man was trying to help him right? The older man had never done anything to hurt him directly. But his words and actions didn’t match. Dick said that he loved Tim like a brother but then threw him out for the shiner model as soon as he thought Bruce was dead. It reminded him of how his mother sweet talked men into investing their entire company into DI and then taking everything left of the crumbling company and bankrupting the investor. It was a trick . He didn’t think that Dick would trick him like his mother had warned him about and he lashed out when he should have just calmly walked away and figured out how to ruin Dick’s life slowly and quietly. Like a true Drake.
He wanted to be alone during those times, to figure himself out again, because if he was being honest he finally had just started to feel at home with Robin before Dick snatched it away, leaving him with all the grief that came with the mantle. He squished down his feelings because he didn’t understand those , what he did understand was that Bruce was alive and they had to find him.
Maybe that was miscommunication. Maybe he didn’t pitch his idea well enough, but no one believed him. And to top off the Arkham threat, Dick cut off all his contacts and resources by citing that he lost his damn mind - which he didn’t , because he was right .
All he had were the resources he gave himself. He learned that he couldn’t pick and chose anymore, that he had to analyse everything , from everyone, everywhere. At all times. It was exhausting.
And he didn’t know how to turn it off even after Bruce was found.
“Maybe you should leave the manor for a few days.” Dick suggested in a friendly tone. But what he was really saying was ‘ leave cause you’re messing everything up .’ Tim was so tired of knowing the double meaning, and these past few months he really understood the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ because the alternative could be truly heartbreaking at times.
It’s not that he means to get into fights with Jason and Damian, but they’ve been having a succession of pit days, or something akin to them, this past week. This wouldn’t be a problem typically, but the thing is: according to Dick they were triggered by Tim, which would be fine if they weren’t just-on-edge with the rest of them. So it was just him that was getting targeted.
He knows Dick means well, and he knows this is for his own safety even. He knew leaving was the easiest solution (and lately they have been needing more easy solutions and Tim didn’t knock on Batman’s door all those years ago to make things harder ). It shouldn’t be a problem, he had an apartment all his own (with no bed or kitchen, just a studio with pillows, blankets and wifi. Red string and messy scrawls on the peeling walls, and papers and batarangs scattered everywhere in organised chaos. The one none of the bats knew about, for situations just like this. He would never tell them that this was from when he was losing his damn mind. ) But he still can’t help but feel the pang in his chest at being told to leave his own home. Or what was supposed to be his home, at least.
Again.
“Yeah.” he replied like he always did. He knew this game, cause thats what this was, if it wasn’t he might just break this is the game where he couldn’t choke. Where he had to swallow his emotions and pretend like he was perfectly fine with whatever the verdict was, even if it made him want to burn and cut his skin so he could dig out whatever was crawling underneath it. It was a game he played with his mother too, because mother invented all the games he played. Dick didn’t know he was playing his mother’s game, the game that made him fake , much less that Tim was winning this game. Sometimes, secretly Tim wanted to lose , just once, to see what would happen. It was just a day, how bad-
“Thanks Timmy.” Dick breathed a sigh of relief and he went in for a hug, but Tim didn’t want a hug. Too close. But that was part of the game too. I f he didn’t hug then-
“I was thinking of moving out anyways.” Tim said conversationally, and shit he was gonna lose or maybe not, because he knew how to play this game and Dick didn’t, so he had some wiggle room because mother wasn’t here to officiate- That didn’t mean Dick couldn’t win though, it just made it easier for Tim to. Dick stiffened and chuckled nervously, his eyes going hard.
“W-What?” and Time shrugged in the loose hold as he stepped away from the older man, keeping his face painfully blank, but Dick still had a hand on his shoulder.
“I mean, I’ve got my own place set up and everything.” That’s a lie, but lies were allowed. They were a given. “It seems like it’d go to waste. Besides, I’m 17. Shouldn’t I be looking for retail for after I turn 18 anyways.”That’s what normal kids do right? Move out after they are legally an adult. “I can’t live here my whole life.” he chuckled, like he’s actually been living at the manor instead of surviving it. Dick didn’t laugh with him, but held on tighter, his face brewing with cold fury and annoyance openly. Ah, the classic Grayson temper.
“Tim...just a few days .” Dick said and blew out a breath as he let Tim go, shoving a bit too roughly to be amiable, and now suddenly there was too much space in between them. “I know, it sucks. But is a few days of isolation too much to ask to keep you safe?” Dick asked and shit, he really did say isolation . At least he knows what he’s doing. Tim isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse.
“Isolation?” Tim asked innocently, if not a bit meekly. Tim played up to it, because lying could hide the hurt, even if he really did feel hurt. If he won this game, make Dick break first he could win and go to the apartment that Dick didn’t know about and be salty and alone and sad and confused by himself. He lost this game once with Greyson, and he wouldn’t let what had happened to him back then happen again.
“Timmy,” Dick sighed like he was a stupid kid, that rubbed Tim entirely the wrong way. “You know I have to help Bruce take care of Jace and Dami, we can’t protect you and console them, it’s too much.” ‘ So we are temporarily taking you out of the equation because you are a flexible variable .’ Was unsaid and Tim sucked in a breath and buried the twisting stabbing that was occuring in his chest.
“No I get that.” he smiled, it felt so fake that he was sure it was plastic “I just…” don’t wanna be kicked out again. Because you did it before. You’re doing it now. And if I let you, you’ll do it again.
He didn’t get to say any of that.
“Why are you putting up a fight over this, you don’t even care.” Dick huffed out impatiently, like Tim was taking a stupidly long time to grasp the concpet. Did he even hear himself? Dick was tired, but it wasn’t right for him to treat his brother this way. Not according to his own rules. But… Are they really brothers? Who even gave Dick this authority to make Tim go out until he was called back in like a trained puppy? Does Bruce know about this? Where was he?
“I do care, and I don’t wanna be a bother. I’ll go.” Tim said evenly and Dick opened his mouth as if he had anything more to say.
“Thank you.” he sighed and then turned his back to Tim and started to walk out. Leaving Tim with a cold sinking feeling and skin crawling “oh and you’re not a bother.” he said half heartedly as he turned the corner around the door. It made Tim sag, and now he felt like an intruder in the manor. A guest that overstayed their welcome.
Just like before.
“Text when it’s over.” he whispered after his long gone eldest brother.
No one responded.
He lost again .
OoO
Touch was an unreasonable request.
Never get too clingy because mother didn’t like that. She said affection showed dependence, and dependence, especially with another person, was temporary and dangerous . Dependence was a weak point that put him at someone else’s mercy.
Reliance was even worse.
When he got to manor things were different.
Very different.
Contact was vital, when training and checking for injuries. He could understand that but it still made him uncomfortable. Like when he landed a hit that lingered for too long or in succession it made his skin tingles. All medical probing and menstrations were taken with stiff posture as his shirt was off, skin and scars for all to see.
But physical contact was necessary . As a result of compromise, he had taken a mid-range weapon for close range combat. In addition, Tim’s fighting style developed into careful manoeuvring and solid finishing blows only. Looking for just the right time to strike to minimise initiating skin contact as much as possible.
What he couldn’t find necessary were the reluctant affection gestures and words of praise. Tim didn’t know how to respond to it, so he simply didn’t. He knew it was rude, but he did not want to react the wrong way. He didn’t correct or tell them to stop though; he just simply let it happen because technically he wasn’t depending on anyone, they were depending on him. The Bats had lost so much, no wonder they wanted to hold on to whatever they could get. But...
Dick touched him too much. Bruce looked at him too much. Alfred fed him too much. Steph talked to him too much. Duke asked him too many questions. They noticed him and it was all too much because he was supposed to be invisible ; not here. Hiding behind a long range camera lens. There, but not present . Not known.
So he played the game he played at galas, when people were too close and noticed him. He had to dance around him like he would in the studio with quiet grace and subtle fluidity. It was harder with the Bats, but not impossible. It was a challenge.
He allowed Dick to hug him but never really hugged back, just lean in a bit just enough to appease his clingy brother. He always kept his hands occupied, files, books, tech, tools, phones, anything, to make sure there was an excuse not to wrap his arms around the other man.
He would stay just in Bruce’s periphery, so he didn’t feel the need to outright look at him. If he was just a shadow in the corner of his eyes, his mentor would be appeased. Bruce was paranoid like that, had to keep an eye on everyone close to him, and that apparently included Tim.
He was careful around Alfred, in the early days even coming close to the stairs that lead to the manor or licking his lips caused the man to apparate in front of him with a ready to go snack. As he got closer to the family it only got worse with his insistence to have a full meal with the family. Tim didn’t do ‘full meals’, he was a strictly ‘take it to go’ kind of person before Alfred. He manages by eating the bare minimum under Alfred’s expectant gaze and tends to stray away from the sweets he offers. That may or may not have lead his family to believe he did not have a sweet tooth, which was entirely untrue.
He was mind boggled when Steph started straight up talking to him. Like they weren’t professionals. Out on the field . When Steph had arrived, Bruce was just starting to thaw out, but still patrols were quiet affairs when criminal activity was not around. Steph had come in with loud noises and constant chatter and Tim…wasn’t quite sure why she thought Tim would make a good conversationalist, which to her credit he usually was just not with kids his age. He got by on nodding along and agreeing, which ended up with him in situations that could’ve been avoided if he understood what the heck the girl was talking about in the first place. He’s gotten better as he learned to understand that complicated web that was Stephanie Brown.
He was good at dodging questions, but his newest little brother was entirely too inquisitive about his life. Duke was equally as inquisitive in all their siblings lives, but Duke asked questions that people normally just assume and Tim lives in that area of assumption. His entire life was created based on assumption because people either couldn’t be bothered to ask or it was weird that they lived with a person they knew nothing about on a first hand account. Tim was fine with that. But he was entirely unprepared for when they did ask questions and he wasn’t sure why it was so hard to tell the truth.
Maybe because he didn’t actually know what it was.
But honestly, even after 5 years he’s still not used to it. It doesn’t help that the family seems to treat him differently than the other but then again, they treated everyone differently. Like how Damian couldn’t just be scolded or how Dick and Bruce had to walk on eggshells around Jason. Tim was quiet in his differences, in lu of his brother’s louder problems that demanded attention. It was only because he didn’t expect those things in the first place that he was fine when the shucked him off like a rotten chestnut sometimes. He was fine and he said so, he didn’t need contact, he didn’t need anyone to be affectionate towards him; didn’t need anyone watching him or feeding him or talking to him. He especially didn’t need anyone questioning him on meaningless trivialities like his past(which was exactly that: his past . A meer learning period and nothing more.)
But somewhere along the way he must have gotten too expectant, because when it was all ripped away he fell apart.
He was alone . And it hurt .
It never hurt that way before. He was used to being alone, spent most of his life that way. Until the Bats. Then it was constant together . Partners, sons, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, family. They didn’t just leave and Tim adapted. Then made the mistake of getting comfortable. Then made the mistake of not accounting for it too all be taken away. He wasn’t ready for the repercussions because he thought there would be none. Because he was fine alone before so why couldn’t he be after.
This is what dependency got him.
A few days had turned into two weeks. Where Tim threw himself into cases he solved under the radar for Bruce, and while still laying low. He ignored his exhaustion and forgot about hunger. He didn’t let himself take a break, because if he took a break, if he didn’t have work, if he didn’t keep busy then it would be just him and his thoughts. Alone .
So he resolved in waiting for Dick to text him the all clear and then be back to loud noises and companionship that would drown out his thoughts.
Pathetic,
Apparently, he could’ve come back sooner. Dick forgot to text until a week after their brothers’ madness ended. Texting confirmation and donuts. No apology.
There was nothing to apologise for, not if Dick did that on purpose. And honestly, why wouldn’t he? Tim is a trigger to two of their siblings and a terrible social companion. Everywhere Tim went it caused problems in someway or another, and even though Tim fixes his own problems, it was still a hassle to be in proximity with. Tim couldn’t blame them for wanting a moment of peace. From him. It not like they cut him out although he isn’t sure why .
He still didn’t go back to the manor.
No one came looking for him.
It was a week later that he found out they were on a look out for him - which was fundamentally different than looking for him - and knowing them they would find him eventually.
Regardless, he wasn’t hiding from them; that would be ridiculous and childish and an exquisite waste of time. So, as to not compromise his most promising, if not concerning safe house, he started to pack his stuff up and went to the one in Bowery.
Surprisingly it was Damian who found him.
The problem was, it was just before Tim was about to leave his hideaway. He shouldn’t have wasted so much time being comfortable in this void of a room he’d been not hiding in for three weeks alone. The room with foreign writing and red strings hanging from a wall in the far corner. The room with the dried blood on the sides and floor that you couldn’t see because the only light was from the single window and blue computer screens. The room that was heated by a portable space heater and blankets and pillows. The room where the hum of the coffee machine on the ground and the camper stove and kettle were the only appliances. Where the bathroom had too bright a light and the med kit was messy and in constant need of restock.
It’s where he had come after Robin was taken because there was nothing to break here, nothing to mes up. Where he had spent hours writing madness on the wall trying to figure out where Bruce was. A place he couldn’t sleep in comfortably but felt at ease in. Where he could lose his mind privately, without anyone interfering.
It was the one thing he actually wanted to keep secret.
And now the gremlin has found the darkest most real part of Tim that there ever was.
The part that was alone and desperate .
“What is this Drake?” the boy whispered, he looked mildly horrified. His eyes scanned over the crazed writing that was painted over and replaced with a new case and neat writing. Covering up his lapse of sanity that no one else had to know about - the one that would get him sent to Arkham. Either way, he was doubtful the brat knew Russian.
“Sanrio case, I’ve been working it for two weeks.” It took up barely the quarter of the space Bruce’s case took. All of cases he did here hadn’t filled up nearly as much space. Most cases had become largely redundant but entirely necessary.
“ Misinformation and time delays based on dependency,” his mother had said “if these lead to your destruction, I will disown you even in death.”
Funny, it was the thing that got him Robin.
It was the thing that got it taken too.
Bruce was worried he’d end up dead like Jason, but because of him no one would end up like their late brother again.
Tim could never be wrong; he couldn’t afford the alternative.
“Drake!” He heard Damian snap as he jumped toward his brother. And how did he get on the floor? The chipped ceiling was spinning and he felt faintly sick. Okay yeah maybe laying down is a good idea. Damian knelt beside him - was he trying to catch him? - and clicked his comm on, looking faintly distressed.
“Todd, Gra-“
“Not Dick.” Tim was just barely coherent enough to slur. He didn’t think Damian would listen, he never did, not to Tim.
“ Todd ,” Damian tapped something into his wrist computer “I’m sending you a location. Come alone.” He stressed and propped Tim up against the wall. He didn’t wait for a response as he clicked off the comm and stared Tim directly in the eyes. It was unnerving and Tim wasn’t sure what was going on and it made his head hurt because this was the perfect opportunity for Damian to just en- “Report.” Tim could do that.
“Dizzy.” He didn’t say he could do it well.
“Have you eaten?” Damian demanded, Tim didn’t even process the question fully before Damian scoffed, coming to his own conclusion “A needless question.” and ruffled around in his pocket for a protein bar and unwrapped it, holding it up to Tim’s mouth. “Stupid Drake, this is why you cannot be left to your own devices.” Tim just hummed as time became syrupy. He wasn’t alone , he could finally rest .
Jason showed up between blinks. Crouching down on his other side and mouthing words Tim couldn’t hear and shoving the tasteless bar in his mouth. He didn’t want to chew and swallow, that seemed like so much effort and his stomach kinda hurt. Jason wasn’t letting up though so Tim resigned himself to biting down and swallowing whole, which seemed to appease the older boy enough to turn to Damian and start talking to him and the boy was biting his lip guiltily.
Tim didn’t know what they were saying, but he could guess. Although it was a pretty presumptuous guess, especially from him. “Hey Dami,” Tim pitched forward, the boy looked a little alarmed, but Tim managed to hold himself upright. He leaned toward the boy, getting close but not touching, never touching “I didn’t leave cuz of you.” he slurred, trying to maintain eye contact.
“A-as if I’d care what or why you do anything, Drake.” He huffed, but there was a stutter in his tone.
“I left because of Dick.” Tim continued on, Jason was watching them studiously “he doesn’t like dealing with us fighting so it’s easiest if I leave. He just doesn’t wanna deal with me while he has to take care of you.” Tim said gently, maybe he should have more of a filter that didn’t seem quite right. Damian gripped his knuckles.
“Even so, you always come back.” Damian said through gritted teeth, tears burning his eyes. Why is he crying?
“Sorry, I got tired of getting kicked out.” Tim smiles a bit lopsided and loopy “you’d think I take a hint by now.” He kinda of laughed because this was so obvious he wasn’t wanted nor was he needed anymore. Why am I still there?
“Is it..?”
“ Dick kicked me out as Robin...I wasn’t good enough to be his so…” Tim feels like that should hurt more. Maybe he’s too tired to feel pain, but if that’s true then his stomach wouldn’t hurt this much.
“Kid,” Jason gripped his shoulder and oh yeah he was here too. “You... were the best Robin… did the job better than any of the rest of us.” Okay, now reality check. This was probably a dream. Weird. It’s a nice dream.
“Why do you think that is?” Tim bit out harshly, cuz if this was a dream he didn’t have to check his tone. “Why do you think that I did everything right? That I had the right strategy, said the right things, made the right choice. Every. Single. Time. I’m good at pretending. This,” he gestured to the room that looked more like it should be in an asylum than a teenagers “is what I am.” Tim bit his lip, now there were tears in his eyes. Jason and Damian were still, and it was quiet for a long time. He’s so sick of quiet.
“...This?” Jason finally uttered, Tim just shrugged.
“Not much but it’s me.” He let out a hallow laugh. The broken bloody pieces of his mind showing. “So go on, tell me everything about me is wrong.” And turn into the nightmare he was supposed to be having.
“Drake, you did everything right.” Damian said incredulously. “You…Father never had to worry about you.” That stung.
Jason snorted “Maybe he should’ve.” That stung more.
Tim laughed harshly “Dami, if you think anyone can be perfect, can make no mistakes, if you know anyone like that, they are fake.” He huffed a laugh out again “so fake. Not real. Everyone makes mistakes, if they don’t then they are scared of something.” What was he so afraid of?
“But you’ve been doing it for years .” Damian protested “No one can pretend for that long.”
“Isn’t that my job? ” Tim breathed out harshly, it was hard to breathe. “The Pretender. ” Jason almost flinched “Call me it all you want. I always fulfil my role.” Damian looked devastated for a second before steeling himself and jumping at him again but this time latched onto Tims torso and squeezed tight. “Wha-“ Jason tugged them both close into his chest. What kind of dream…
“You’re real kid, don’t worry.”
But Jason was wrong. His mother has taught him how to be what he was supposed to. How to lie and manipulate, seduce and pretend. She never taught him how to be real. Being real was a weakness. Being real was a vulnerability. Being real isn’t allowed
Tim doesn’t know how to be real.
Just like his mother.
OoOoO
He didn’t get to throw a tantrum.
It wasn’t and would never be earned or tolerated, he’d learn. It was impossible to justify the frustrated emotions coming out in screams and yells and slammed doors because in no world were those acceptable reactions, no matter what was happening.
His mother made it easy to understand, to get what he wanted there were requirements and rules. He either didn’t meet them or he did, most often the former. He didn’t play the wanting game often anyway, he learned early on that his chances were as good as winning a lottery. He didn’t get special treatment in any regards, he’d have to earn his keep like everyone else.
Here’s the thing: all adults had their own set of rules. It’s what he learned through trial and error because Mother had different rules than Commissioner Gordon who had different rules than the high society aunties and so on. Usually it was easy to get the rules if he just followed Mother’s template. Mother’s rules were always default.
Bruce didn’t follow Mother’s template. Tim didn’t know the rules, didn’t know the requirements. So until told otherwise, he would play by his mother’s rules. But it was really hit or miss with the guy. He couldn’t find a pattern for when he said no or yes.
Mostly yes with Tim, because Tim’s strats seem to have an effect and he still never asked for much more than the necessary assets he needs. And he knew the rules for wanting something, he had a reason, it wasn’t unreasonable and that made it impossible for Bruce to say no. Especially when he earned it.
Bruce didn’t know the game he was playing. Tim took that to his advantage, because that’s what mother said.
Ignorance is something to quietly exploit.
Quietly.
“No.” Bruce said in a monotone, because yes it happened sometimes. And Tim was never sure why he didn’t get what he wanted when he had played by all the rules.
“I’m having coffee?” he asked more than said because Bruce had just come behind him and turned off the pot and told him no . Which doesn’t make sense.
“No, you’re not.” Then a flare of anger burned in his chest and no, he shouldn’t get mad. Why was he mad? All he had to do was gently inform Bruce that he earned this. Just explain.
Maybe he was just tired.
“Oh snap.” Jason snickered from somewhere behind them “Spoiled little rich boy not getting what he wants. Oh what a shame .” Jason taunted and Tim gripped his fists into knuckles. He didn’t need commentary from the peanut gallery. He’s not spoiled!
“Bruce,” he started calmly “I’ve been up for 46 hours, I’ve solved 3 cases and am currently working on a WE presentation while closing the Almani case. I should have the coffee so I can stay awake long enough to finish the projects.” He earned it, he had a point and it was reasonable. Bruce could not say-
“No.” Bruce said. Tim opened his mouth to protest that Bruce was being irrational, because it certainly wasn’t him .”You don’t deserve the coffee.” And, oh my god , he figure it out. Tim tensed up a bit at getting caught in the one sided game he had been playing for years with this man. The taller male eyed him critically, then smirked like he just figured something out. Tim’s eyes widened.
He knows.
“Aww B, that’s harsh.” Dick said a little sheepishly but Bruce knows Tim’s game. Well one of his games. But still. It was a matter of principle, this was his mother’s game. Not Bruce’s. Bruce wasn’t supposed to know it, he wasn’t supposed to know the rules. He wasn’t supposed to know he was playing.
It was irrational, but Bruce… Bruce couldn’t. This was so stupid .
“No, the only thing Tim deserves is sleep.” Bruce said and now he was trying to change Tim’s game. To change his mother’s game. Even if he knew Janet would be proud that the technique to change another person’s game against them was used, she wouldn’t appreciate it on one of her own games. She would be furious.
“Don’t make your mother angry.”
“I don’t want sleep!” he said in hysteria, and made to grab the mug out of a shocked Bruce. But Bruce quickly recovered and yanked it a bit out of reach. Tim, without the goal, was made aware of how silent the cave was. How surprised Jason and Dick’s gazes were and had he yelled that… and…
.. .oh shit he had just ..? Had he just yelled ? At Bruce? About not getting what he wanted? Oh no, nonononono no . He’s never lost the temper game. He didn’t know why, but he knew if he lost, even once, it would be bad. He felt the cold grip his throat and his eyes widened as dread sunk deep into his stomach.
This is what he was so afraid of.
“Tim-” Bruce started but Tim was already gone before Bruce could get another word out.
He was good at disappearing, but it felt like he just ran away.
OoO
“-and he flat out was like ‘ I don’t want sleep, I want coffee ’ like a little duckling with his feathers ruffled.” Dick cooed, because unlike everyone - who would find it appealing or infuriating - Tim acting like a spoiled little brat was cute to him. It didn’t make Tim feel any better, it made him feel embarrassed. Unprofessional . Not worthy of respect. Goes to show, he acts like a child he’ll be treated like one too.
“Heh, yeah. Kid’s too used to getting what he wants so easily. It totally threw him off when daddy said no. What’d I say?” Jason snickered and Tim knew even if he left they’d still say all these things to the family. He should go back to his room until Bruce tells him he should come down and deliver his punishment. Or maybe isolating him from the rest of the family was enough.
It feels like enough.
But surely there was some greater consequence. He had never encountered something like this before. Every request shot down he had accepted before. Why was this different? Being hot and cold anger with Bruce all night, sort out if he knew any of his mother’s games. How had he even figured it out? Tim and Bruce have always done the careful dance around each other, trying to figure the other out and Tim was winning that game. It was theirs, so why did he need to know his mothers game? What did he think about the game? Was he mad at Tim for playing it with him all these years? Was he mad because he lost?
Oh yeah, because Bruce knew the rules.
“Aww, come on he was probably just tired. Tim was awake for over a day, right?” Duke laughed and oh that was so much worse ; now they were making excuses for his behaviour. People only made excuses when they were embarrassed or did something wrong and were too cowardly to face their incompetence. Shit, he couldn’t do anything right.
“Yeah, but Tim is always sleep deprived. Besides, the thought of the calm and stoic Red Robin stomping his foot and pouting? Priceless.” Steph crooned between fits of giggles “I hope you got it on tape.” Tim hopes they didn’t.
“Drake must be too embarrassed to even show his face right now.” And yeah he was, why else would he be hiding in the vents, listening in on their conversation. His stomach growled lightly, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday at dinner, and even then he regretted only eating half his pasta and poking around the salad until patrol. He’d eat after they finished breakfast. And he certainly wouldn’t touch the coffee until it was earned again. He’s already embarrassed himself enough.
“Shut it brat, you throw a tantrum at least twice a week.” Jason smirked at their little brother and Damian blushed a bit and took a large bite of his muffin with a huff.
“Nah he’s probably just sleeping, god knows I’d be out for at least a day.” Dick waved off scooping some eggs into his mouth, Bruce hummed into his mug.
“Dick don’t talk with your mouth full.” he admonished before turning to his youngest children “Duke, Damian you should head for school.” He said and they nodded and got up to leave, bringing their empty plates with them to drop off in the sink on their way out.
“Oh wait, I gotta class in like an hour. I’ll drive em Alfie.” Steph popped up, swiping her half full bowl of cereal and shovelling it all into her mouth in three scoops as she scooped up her backpack.
“God save them.” Dick muttered and Steph whacked him over the head as she passed him. When she was out the door he then turned to Bruce with a slight furrow in his brow “He isn’t embarrassed, right? I mean, he just was tired and wanted coffee. So what if he got a little whiny about it. Kids are whiny all the time, that’s nothing to be that embarrassed over.” He said after a while and that made Tim freeze. ‘Kids’?
“Or Damian could be right.” the older man drawled and glanced toward the vent with a quirked brow. Tim froze no way Bruce could know he’s up here, the unamused, unwavering stare at his hiding spot said otherwise, but how.. . Unless… shit his stomach. Stupid organs. Stupid super perceptive batdad. Stupid Tim . He should have had some ration bars in his room, he had compromised his operation by a mere oversight . Mother would be rolling in her grave. “Want to come down and join us?” And that phrasing made Tim tear up, his nose all red and his face burning with humiliation. He missed his mom and he was embar-
Wait … what?!
“B who-”
“No, not really.” Tim said meekly. Jason and Dick froze and snapped their head in his direction. Tim quickly retreated further into the vent, as if the shadows would make them forget he was there. Bruce furrowed his brow.
“Baby bird?” Dick asked and shot up and went straight for the vent that Time could no longer move in because Dick was now opening the latch and jumped to see him but was gone in the fall and stepped back to get a better view of the vent. “What are you doin’ up there? You gotta be hungry, you didn’t eat anything last night.” Dick fussed.
“I ate some.” he murmured his weak defence into his knees that were now tucked up against his chest. He was out of his older brother’s reach and they were too big to climb in here with him to get him out. He was safe… for now.
“Half a plate of pasta ain’t enough kid. No wonder you can fit in there. You’re so shrimpy.” the top of Jason’s head came into view and he reached a hand into the vent which was able to graze Tim’s foot. Tim curled a little more into himself, and pushed against the back of the vent, cool metal grates digging into his back.
“I’m fine.” he murmured but his stomach let out a soft growl and he cursed it for it’s poor timing. Jason’s eyes softened as turned his hand as if offering it.
“Come on kid, Alfie has some freshly cut fruit and set aside a plate for you. Gremlin couldn’t get his hands on it if he tried, but he knows better.” he reached a bit more, probably on his tippy toes. Tim relented and uncurled himself as he crawled forward and allowed Jason to help him out of the vent, even though he was perfectly capable of doing that on his own but Jason was being gentle and he’s never gentle with Tim but that was okay bec-
He had eaten half the plate of fruit and oatmeal while stuck in his thoughts, but he doesn’t remember sitting down or picking up the spoon. But he knew that the three men were staring at him the entire time he was doing it.
It took him a moment to realise when he looked up it wouldn’t be the shade of blue that coloured mother’s eyes. Her cold, analysing gaze. Picking apart his every weakness that he dared to show. It wouldn’t be the heartless distant eyes that were calculating the best way to shape her son into being exactly like she was.
The eyes that bore into him were concerned and confused and caring. Tim missed the coldness and the warmth felt sticky and wrong. He always preferred to be cold over warm.
“I thought I said to go to sleep.” Bruce’s rough baritone was neutral, but right now it felt scalding.
Dick snapped his head to Bruce with a light glare “B, really? Right now, in-”
“I’m mad.” Tim said to his plate of food, refusing to look up. “At you, I think.”
“Oh?” Bruce asked and raised a brow for him to continue. Tim resolutely nodded once.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Tim said calmly, which was technically true but it didn’t feel true. It was their game, not his . He swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. “I did, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t’ve acted like a brat last night. I’m sorry.” he said, not being able to look at anyone was dampening his sincerity a bit but Tim doesn’t think that’s a possibility right now; their gazes were so heavy .
“Then why were you mad at me?” Bruce didn’t accuse, he just simply asked. Like they were working through a case.
“I-” Tim choked and bit his lip, bringing his head lower “It was my mom’s game.” he whispered, Bruce didn’t say anything but Jason and Dick stiffened “It was her’s and I’ve been playing it with you for years. It’s okay to play the games with other people so long as they don’t realise they’re playing but once they do...I guess it’s harder to play, which I should want a challenge. I know that’s a poor excuse. But-” He said hurriedly, then paused and shifted a bit before continuing “But you wanted to change the rules and-” he murmured quietly, his eyes burning with trapped tears.
“What was the game you played, Timmy?” Dick said softly, coming next to him but hovering with his touch as if he were unsure. Tim was unsure if it would help or not too.
“The game you play when you want something.” Tim answered softly and Dick paused for a second, unsure how to process that “I didn’t know Bruce’s rules, so I used my mom’s. It usually worked, but sometimes it didn’t. That was okay, I lost sometimes, but I guess this time I- I guess I’m not allowed to play anymore.” He smiled bitterly before biting his lip.
“What were the rules?” Bruce asked.
“You know the rules, you figured it out.” Tim glared at his hands in lue of Bruce who just shook his head.
“I only have a sense. Elaborate.” he said, a bit of Batman entering his tone. Like he was asking him to report on a case or injury, but there was still a soft edge that was only reserved for Bruce .
“Oh uhm…” Tim blinked, unsure of how to describe it. He never had to describe it to anyone and it’s never been explained to him. He figured out the rules through trial and error. “There’s only three, it’s an easy game. If you want something then it has to be earned, you have to have a good concrete purpose for it, and it has to be reasonable. That’s all.” Tim explained, by the blank stares he felt on him, he scrambled to explain further “For example, if I wanted a kite I couldn’t get it because even if I had earned it, there is no real purpose for owning one besides pleasure and it will give me no skill I don’t already have. There are no benefits so it’s unreasonable for me to have one.” he bit his lip before he glanced up at Bruce for a second “But if I wanted...coffee” he dared to mention.
It was for the good of the explanation.
“After I did a lot of cases and needed to close one more, it would be reasonable for me to have it because it would keep me awake long enough to finish it.” he felt like the air was slowly being sucked out of the room as the silence continued to permeate the air after the explanation.
“Babybird.” Dick suddenly erupted into choked sobs and pulled Tim in roughly. Tim stiffened not sure what to do and looked to Jason who only had a misty angered look on his face. “I’ll get you a kite, I’ll get you all the kites. But please stop playing that stupid game!” he blubbered. Tim stiffened. He was… unsure of this reaction. Or more specifically, unsure how to proceed.
“I don’t want a kite, Dick. It was an example.” Tim tried calmly as he was squished against the man’s chest.
“So, I’ll get you a nice one with a pretty Robin on it and everything.” Dick snuggled him closer and The position where his face was smushed against his brother had Tim looking up and directly at Bruce, whom he tried to plead silently with for help.
“Tim.” Bruce sighed, as if he was unsure how to proceed. Jason’s glare was the same one he had when he was daring their father to say the wrong thing. Usually that isn’t at Tim’s expense though. “I don’t mind if you play this...game,” clearly he felt uncomfortable calling it that for some reason, Dick looked like he wanted to protest but clamped his mouth shut. “but know that if you want something, anything you just have to ask. No matter how unreasonable or seemingly undeserved it may be. I’ll say no if I have to, but you can almost always have what you want here unconditionally.” Bruce emphasised, looking him directly in the eye. There was something pleading in the way he smiled as he got up and patted his hair, like he was begging Tim to believe him. But how could he? That didn’t make any sense. This had to be a trick.
“God, this is fucked up.” Jason groaned, Dick and Tim looked at him “You’ve been playing this little ‘game’ this whole time, now I feel bad about calling you spoiled.” Jason grumbled.
“That’s what you’re worried about? After everything we just heard? Really Jace?” Dick said somewhere between desperation, outrage, and hysteria.
“Huh?” Tim blinked, he needed coffee, he really couldn’t process anything going on properly around him.
“Don’t get me wrong, the parameters are fucked up, even I had a kite when I was a kid. Albeit it was just string and plastic bag but a kite nonetheless.” Jason smirked and Tim turned red. They were still on that? It was just an example. Tim had a foreboding sense that they wouldn’t let this go.
“I don’t want a kite jason, it was an example.” Tim tried, a bit irritated.
“Did you have a kite when you were a tot?” Jason raised a brow mischievously.
“No, I just said it was unreasonable.” He huffed and crossed his arms. Were they not paying attention at all? How was this even relevant?
“Unreasonable for a kid to want a toy?” Jason inquired and Tim felt his face go hot. Well when he put it like that.. .
“It’s a useless piece of plastic on a string. I didn’t need one to live.” Tim said with a huff, because unlike other kids he didn’t need toys to keep himself occupied. He didn’t give into childish cliches because honestly it was a phase of his life that his Mother he deemed unnecessary.
“Wrong answer babybird. That kite could have made you less bitter.” He shook his head with faux woe. Tim blinked.
“I’m not bitter.” He insisted with a furrowed brow, dislodging himself from Dick a bit.
“You drink black coffee.” Jason pointed out with a playful tone that was just grating on him even more if he was being honest.
“That proves nothing.” Tim huffed and did not pout.
“Alfie!” Dick called, nuzzling into Tims neck “We need to get Tim’s childhood back!” Tim made an indigent noise. Surely Alfred will see reason-
“I will make the proper arrangements.” Alfred had a ghost of a smile on him as he left Tim to deal with this alone. The traitor. Tim tried to squirm away from Dick, but he only squeezed his death grip tighter, so Tim resigned himself and arranged himself more properly on Dicks lap, to salvage at least some decency.
“By the way, Timbers.” Jason said “How many games did you and your mom have?” Tim blinked and then a dark list of his lips as he leaned toward the man forebodingly.
“You’re playing some right now, Jace.”
OoOoO
The KGB has been disbanded long before he had been alive. When his mother was young and still she was taught the ideals of her family as she grew up and married and American socialite and practically took over his assets.
His mother had finessed her way into greatness as a survival skill because otherwise she would have no purpose to her birth family. She taught Tim the very same.
Janet Drake didn’t raise a child, she forged a successor.
That’s why she taught him how to throw a knife and gave him armour. It’s why she installed him with paranoia and to look at thing from every possible angle. It’s why she gave him a gun that was no longer made. A simple Gunther brought no attention to it, looked like an ordinary gun from a short distance, with rounds that were casted by the user.
These were his traditions, his installations. This was what he grew up with, unknowingly becoming what his family has always been. They manifested as games to his young mind.
Timothy Drake was made to be independent; he became a menace.
It was inevitable.