Chapter Text
Tim Drake felt like he was losing his mind. It was the only obvious answer to what was going on. Of course, it would happen, he wasn’t surprised, not really. Bruce had always been worried that one day Tim would end up going off the rocker, it was why he was always so strict with the teenager in the first place. They never knew when Junior would come slipping out of Tim and take full control of him once again and the entire team stayed on edge around Tim because of it.
So really, Tim wasn’t surprised to see both Damian and Duke staring at him as though he had grown a second head. He knew he sounded crazy, knew that what he was telling them was insane. And it didn’t help that this was coming out of crazy little Timmy Drake. The one they always had to watch for.
But it also felt right. Something in his gut told him that this was right, that Bruce was not actually dead. Sure, there was a body but that didn’t mean anything. Damian has had multiple clones of himself made at this point by his insane assassin family. Was it really too much to assume that maybe, just maybe, Tim was right? That Bruce was actually sent back in time somewhere and wasn’t actually dead?
“Timothy, what evidence do you even have to support this claim? We ran all of the tests, that was father’s body that we lowered into the ground,” Damian said with a huff as he leaned back in the large seat that sat in front of the computer.
“The portrait upstairs. It looks just like Bruce,” Tim stressed, waving his arms back. “Look, I know it sounds crazy. But I need you to believe me,” he pleaded. If he could just get his brother to listen to him, if Damian just trusted him, just this once. Tim would be happy.
“Tim, that portrait has always been there,” Duke said gently and Tim wanted to scream in frustration, he wanted to pull his hair out at the roots. Why weren’t they listening to him? Just for once in his goddamn life, he needed them to understand.
“Father has never mentioned that you had such, wild delusions, Timothy,” Damian said, a sneer on his face, and Duke’s face fell.
“Tim, you’re not having a spell, are you?” Duke asked carefully, reaching over to take Tim’s hand only for the younger boy to snatch it away.
“I haven’t had a spell in years now,” he snapped. “Junior is gone. I just need you to listen to me, Bruce is alive and if you would just trust me, I can prove it!”
“We may need to call Dr. Strange,” Damian said lowly to Duke, his face tight. Tim bit at his lip, ignoring the sharp coppery taste that seemed to flood his mouth as he did.
“I’m not goin’ to Arkham,” Tim snapped, flexing and unflexing his fists. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m telling you the truth. Why are you so fucking pigheaded that you can’t just trust me, Damian? I’m right and you’re too fucking stupid to notice! Both of you are!” He snapped, pointing his finger at his brother and a man he had once thought that he could trust with his life. Duke had always been there for Tim, had always been in his corner even when Bruce and Damian were being a little too strict, a little too overbearing. He had been the one to advocate that Tim go on patrols alone just two years before.
And now he was looking at Tim with that same pitying look that Damian and Bruce had always given him. Poor, pathetic Timmy Drake, couldn’t even last two months with the Joker before he lost his mind. He was probably looking at Tim and seeing nothing but his own parents who had fallen a similar fate as Tim’s. Only, Tim wasn’t Duke’s parents. He hadn’t succumbed to the madness from the Joker, not now not ever.
He wasn’t Junior.
He was Tim Drake Wayne and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his father, his mentor was alive.
“I think the grief might be getting to you, Timothy. It may be a good idea for you to take a break as Robin for the time being. Hang up the cape and just take a break. We can schedule you an appointment with Dr. Strange soon and get you evaluated, maybe losing Father was just too much for you,” Damian told him with that insincere smile that was always reserved for when he wanted Tim to feel small, when he wanted to remind Tim who the superior son really was.
“Yeah, Tim. It’s okay, I know that it’s hard losing a parent but we’re here for you. We just want you to be okay,” Duke said gently.
Tim gritted his teeth, his hands balled into fists at his side before he let himself relax, the tension in his shoulders eased and he started the breathing exercises that Harley had taught him so long ago. His face evened out into a cool mask that was reminiscent of Janet Drake.
“You’re right,” he said cooly, the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out. “Between finding out about Mother and Father’s death last year, Stephenie’s death, Bart and Connor’s death, and now Bruce’s, maybe it is all crashing in on me. We can call Dr. Strange tomorrow and see if there’s a bed available,” he said pleasantly. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” he said simply before walking out of the cave, doing his best to maintain his composure the entire time.
Once he was back into the safety of his room, Tim sucked on his teeth and he started to plan. If Duke and Damian didn’t believe him about Bruce; then he was just going to have to prove them wrong. He was going to find Bruce and he was going to show them once and for all that he wasn't crazy.