Find One and Seize It

by MariMayWrite

Summary:

With everything lost, Tim finds himself on the edge of a bridge, ready to jump.

Jason Todd wasn't part of his plan.

 

Title from "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths

Chapter 1: Throw yourself into the unknown

Summary:

CW: very heavy on the suicidal thoughts as well as the suicide attempt!

Take care of yourself, and if you aren't in the right headspace to read this stuff, please don't!

Turning eighteen is supposed to mean something. Tim is supposed to feel a certain way about it, but he can’t quite pinpoint what exactly that feeling is meant to be. He’s been emancipated for over a year, acting as CEO of a Fortune 500 company for longer, and running around the streets of Gotham every night as a vigilante for years; not exactly typical teen activities.

So.

He thinks turning eighteen is supposed to be about freedom and becoming an adult and growing up. Tim has felt “grown up” since he was ten, and he has freedom. So much freedom that he lives in his own apartment with no family or roommates occupying the space with him.

The point is: Tim is supposed to feel… excited about turning eighteen. When it comes down to it, though, all he feels is vaguely disappointed. Like he’s let himself down. Which is fair. Mainly because he came to the conclusion at age nine that he would never live to see his eighteenth birthday. He can’t decide whether younger him would be disappointed or proud. He looks up to meet his gaze in the bathroom mirror, his hands clutching the edges of the sink. 

Definitely disappointed , he thinks. 

Because he had something good . He had a family and friends and a life that was full if not fulfilling. But, it’s all slipped through his fingers, leaving him to fumble around, looking for anything that might be left. 

There’s not much.

His parents are dead. Bruce has been distant ever since he almost killed Captain Boomerang. Cass is in Hong Kong pretty much full-time, now. Dick chose Damian over him in the worst ways possible. Jason… still wants him dead, he’s pretty sure. And Damian was never really family to Tim. Not with all of the attempts on his life. With Jason, there will always be a part of him that sees the man as his favorite Robin, so he had held out some sort of twisted hope that Jason would eventually forgive him for taking his place. Now, he tends to just avoid Tim. Which is almost worse than actively trying to kill him. Even Alfred has seemed to stop calling Tim to invite him over or check in.

So, his family is pretty much non-existent. And his friends-

He takes a shaky breath in as he thinks about Connor and Bart. Thinks about how he never really got to say goodbye. As he exhales, he thinks of how Cassie seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth following Connor’s death.

He takes another breath in and tries to push down the feelings he had, has for Connor and how he never got the chance to see if maybe Connor felt the same.

But, that’s all irrelevant, because he, at age seventeen, has come to the same conclusion he did eight years ago: 

Tim Drake will not live to see his eighteenth birthday.

 

…

 

All this to say, Tim cleans up his apartment a little. He throws out his perishable food, takes out the trash, makes his bed, vacuums the floors, and then he sits down at his desk to write a note. He makes it nice and neat, easy to read. It’s addressed to everyone, assuring each and every person in his life that his actions are his own and nothing about this is their fault.

He carefully folds the note up and leaves it on his kitchen counter, the only thing on the island at the moment. Then, he slips his shoes on and heads out the door. He primes his security system and locks his door, then heads down to the river. 

He walks briskly in the cool summer night, quick to find a bridge spanning the river that is of a sufficient height. As he walks down the sidewalk toward it, he notes that he’s in Red Hood’s side of town, but decides that it’s probably for the best. If Jason sees him, he’ll either ignore him or beat him to a pulp for infringing on his territory. Either way, Tim is pretty sure he’ll be able to make it to the bridge he has his sights set on. 

There aren’t very many people out tonight. Those that are ignore him, and he appreciates that. He notes the odd car or motorcycle that passes him as he walks, but there isn’t much of note about tonight. It’s just a normal May night in Gotham, and when the sun rises, Tim will no longer be here.

He doesn’t stop walking until he reaches the apex of the bridge. When he does, he climbs over the railing and surveys the river below. From this height, the water will feel like concrete when he hits it. He clutches the rail behind him and looks up at the sky. It’s impossible to see the stars here, so Tim doesn’t really know why he tried. But, it’s still comforting to see the moon, through the cloudy sky and light pollution. 

He listens distantly to the sounds of the occasional car passing behind him, but he’s not worried about anyone seeing him or stopping. He’s positioned himself in the shadows of a beam, and is certain that no one can see him from the bridge.

He looks down at the water.

He loosens his grip on the railing.

He takes a breath in, and it’s not shaky this time.

He breathes out and feels at peace.

He leans forward and-

Someone grabs his shoulder, then his other arm, yanking him up and over the railing and back on the bridge. He lashes out at his attacker, throwing a punch before he really processes what’s going on. It doesn’t connect, and the next thing he knows, he’s being pinned to the beam of the bridge that he was hiding behind. His eyes are squeezed shut in anticipation, because whoever is attacking him clearly has him outmatched.

When all that hits his face is a soft breeze, Tim opens his eyes to see…

Red Hood?

“What?” he blurts, confused beyond measure. Jason has avoided him for months after attacking him multiple times, and now he’s… what, about to beat him up for being caught too close to Crime Alley?

“No, I’m asking the questions here, baby bird,” Jason bites out, pushing him a little further into the beam behind him as he continues, “What the hell are you doing?”

Tim hums lightly to himself, having confirmed his theory that Red Hood is angry at Tim for being in his territory, then says, “I’ll be out of here soon, I promise. Just let me go, and I’ll-”

“What, jump off a bridge?” Jason demands, and it’s really hard for Tim to get a read on what the guy’s thinking, between the mask and voice modulator.

“Um…” Tim blanks on what to say, because yeah, kinda doesn’t seem like an appropriate response to that question, and he was really expecting to be punched by now.

“Holy shit, I’m right? Aren’t I?” Jason barks out a laugh and releases Tim before backing up a step, creating about a foot a space between the two of them.

Tim feels a little dizzy with the information he was taking in: Jason isn’t beating him up, but Jason also finds it funny that Tim is about to kill himself. Which, while it hurts that the man who was supposed to be his brother finds his impending death funny, is overall a win for Tim. It means that Jason will probably just let him go and he’ll go back over the railing and into the river below. Easy peasy.

So, he nods numbly and says, “Yeah. So, I’ll- y’know, be out of your hair soon.”

Tim had been expecting some sort of response, but for a few moments, all he gets is what he assumes is Jason staring at him from under his red mask. He’s about to walk away when Jason says, “You think I’m going to let you.”

“Yes?” Tim replies, but it comes out more like a question. What does Jason mean by that? He won’t let Tim kill himself, which is a surprise. The real question, though, is why ? His mind runs through the possibilities: Jason doesn’t want Tim to die at all (unlikely), Jason wants to kill Tim himself (slightly more likely), or Jason doesn’t want Tim to die in his territory where it could potentially get pinned on him (most likely). 

Jason sighs, but it comes out crackly and odd through his voice modulator, “C’mon, kid.” Then, with a nod towards his bike, Jason turns around and walks towards it.

Tim glances over his shoulder at the river below, then over at Jason’s retreating figure, and takes a gamble, calling out, “I left a note. They’ll know it wasn’t you.”

Jason whirls around to face Tim, standing stock still for a moment before stomping towards him and reaching out to grab his arm when he gets close enough. Tim doesn’t let him, though. Instead, he dances backwards out of the way and toward the railing. Clearly, he’s miscalculated and Jason wants to kill him, himself. 

He doesn’t want to die on Jason’s terms, though. He wants to die on his own.

So, he kicks out into the side of Jason’s knee, causing the man to go down for a few seconds. But, that’s all Tim needs. He bolts toward the railing and has just wrapped a hand around it in order to vault over it when a steel grip wraps around his arm and pulls him back so hard, he’s a little surprised he doesn’t feel his shoulder dislocate.

He twists around in Jason’s hold and bites out, “You don’t get to decide how I die, asshole!” before twisting his arm out of the man’s grip.

As soon as he manages that, though, Jason’s gone low and grabbed him around his waist, hefting Tim up over her shoulder and walking towards his bike. Tim twists and kicks and pounds his fists on Jason’s back, but he can’t get the man to release him.

“Relax, Replacement. I’m not gonna kill you,” Jason says, and Tim can almost hear the half-amused drawl in the man’s voice.

Tim freezes in Jason’s hold, his mind taking a few moments to process his brother’s words. “What?” he asks, and it comes out so pathetically small that Tim finds he wants to jump off the bridge more than ever, now.

Jason sighs heavily, then says, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Tim.” 

“What are you doing, then?” is what escapes Tim’s mouth next, without Tim really intending to ask it at all.

“I’m taking you back to my safehouse and you’re going to sleep,” Jason states like it’s the obvious conclusion. “Now, are you going to bolt again if I set you down?”

Confused but curious, Tim mumbles, “No.”

“Good,” and then Jason sets him gently on his feet with an amount of care that Tim had never seen the man act with.

Jason openly stares at him for a moment before he shakes his head minutely and climbs up onto his bike, gesturing for Tim to follow.

Tim glances over his shoulder once more at the railing and the river below, then at Jason looking at him expectantly. Tim sighs, realizing that he severely miscalculated.

Jason doesn’t want him to die, at all.

Notes:

Hey y'all! Welcome to my fic, lol. I'm back at it again with the angst, but this time for the DCU! I promise there's going to be a happy ending to this, so stick with it! I'm also either turning this into a series that includes TimKon or just including that ship in this work, so... look out for that, I guess lol. Also, please keep in mind that I've just started another semester of university, so updates will likely be slow.

Oh! Don't forget to drop a kudos and/or a comment if you liked this chapter!

P.S.
Now for timeline bs:
I tried REALLY hard to get a sense of the timeline for this corner of the DCU, but basically what I found was a lot of people disagreeing on characters' ages and when certain events happened. So. I've decided that this is where we are in the timeline:
Tim is about to turn 18
His parents are dead.
He's saved Bruce from being lost in time.
He's Red Robin.
Connor and Bart are (currently) dead

P.S.S.
Chapter title (as well as fic title) from "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths

XOXO
Mari

Chapter 2: You can't trust a single thing I say

Notes:

CW: Disassociation, panic attacks, discussion of suicide & thoughts of suicide

Tim wakes up to sunlight streaming in from a nearby window and directly into his eyes. He’s silent as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes and trying to puzzle out where he is. He’s in a full-size bed, which rules out the Manor. There are blinds on the windows instead of blackout curtains, which rules out his apartment. One of the blinds is bent, which is what allowed the light into the room in the first place. 

Tim is pretty sure he’s still in Gotham, but he isn’t the type to act on “pretty sure.” So, he silently gets out of bed and pads over to the window, peeking over the bent blind to see… Crime Alley? 

The events of last night come barreling back into his mind. His decision, the bridge, Jason . He wants to groan as he recalls the man’s words from the night before: “Just get some sleep, kid. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And isn’t that ominous? Tim realizes that the most logical conclusion to come to is that Jason is going to stage some sort of intervention, given how he kept Tim from jumping last night. However, the feeling in Tim’s gut isn’t logical. It’s telling him to climb out the window and disappear into the streets of Gotham. Of course, the reasonable part of him knows that this isn’t a viable option for a myriad of reasons.

So, Tim turns to the bedroom door and takes a moment to just stare at it and try to process the fact that he would be dead by now if it weren’t for Jason. He doesn’t know how to feel about that; he doesn’t particularly know if he wants to be dead or alive right now. He decides he will likely need a few weeks to actually process it. But, rather than dwell on that, he steels himself and opens the door. 

Without the barrier of the wood to muffle noise, Tim can hear someone in what must be the kitchen, going by the sound of sizzling and the smell of bacon is anything to go by. He makes his way to the kitchen, following the sounds of cooking. The apartment is small, though, so it doesn’t take him long to find Jason standing in front of the stove.

As soon as he steps into the living/dining/kitchen area, Jason asks over his shoulder, “Did you sleep?”

Tim kind of wants to laugh because even Jason knows better than to ask him if he slept well . He suppresses the urge, though, and says, “Yeah.”

There’s a small island with two stools lined up in front of it, bordering the kitchen and living room. Tim pulls out one of the stools and settles into it, feeling supremely awkward to be intruding on Jason’s space like this. Silence settles over them like a thick fog, uneasy and nearly choking in its intensity.

After what feels like hours, but it's likely around ten minutes, Jason seems to wrap up what he’s doing with the stove, turning it off and dishing up what appears to be bacon, eggs, and toast. Tim is deeply unsettled to see that there are two plates made.

“You didn’t have to-” he starts, but Jason cuts him off.

“What, you think I’m gonna make you watch me eat? Please,” he scoffs, grabbing the plates and walking past Tim and to the small dining table situated by one of the two windows in the room. It’s a little bit scuffed up and only has two chairs, but Jason probably doesn’t need more than that. It’s not like he invites any of his family over. Except for Tim, apparently. He stares after Jason for a moment before realizing that he’s meant to follow. 

He slides into one of the chairs, and a few minutes later, there’s a plate of food, a glass of water, and a fork in front of him. And Jason, who has started to practically inhale his breakfast. He pauses after a few bites and looks at Tim with a sort of condescending expectation. Oh, yeah, he’s supposed to be eating. 

Tim picks up the fork and takes a bite of the eggs, and is surprised to find that they taste good. Not that eggs are particularly hard to cook, but Tim has been banned from Alfred’s kitchen since he was twelve due to his utterly abysmal cooking skills, so it doesn’t take much to impress him.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, Jason entirely focused on his food, until he’s cleared his plate and Tim has made his way through about a quarter of his. Then, Jason’s single-minded focus narrows in on Tim, and he can feel the man staring at him as he pushes a chunk of egg across his plate with his fork.

Finally, Jason speaks up, “Does Bruce know that you’re depressed?”

Tim’s gaze snaps up to meet Jason’s. “I’m not depr-” the lie immediately begins to roll off his tongue, but when his brain catches up to his mouth, he admonishes himself. There’s no way Jason would buy any boldfaced lie or even a half-truth right now. Not when he was the one to pull Tim off the side of a bridge. So, he swallows the attempts at evasion and simply says, “No.”

Jason rolls his eyes and scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he says, “World’s greatest detective, my ass.” Then, his attention zeroes in on Tim again, pinning him beneath it like a moth on a board. Tim feels horribly seen , like all the walls he’s spent so long building are turning to glass, translucent and brittle. Tim takes a bite of toast, if only to keep the potential of him having to speak as low as it can be.

Jason’s expression is considering for several long moments before he asks, “What can I do?”

This throws Tim for a loop, “What?”

Jason sighs, uncrossing his arms and leaning slightly toward Tim over the table. “What can I do to help you? Is there someone I should call? Do you want me to cover your patrols for a while? C’mon, work with me here.”

“I-” Can Tim be helped? Is there even anyone for Jason to call at this point? Would anything really make a difference? “I don’t know.”

And, fuck if this feeling doesn’t make him feel like a kid again. This uncertainty permeating into his bones and making everything around him feel slightly unreal. It’s like he’s back at Drake Manor over summer break, checking his email first thing every morning in hopes that maybe today is the day his parents tell him they’re coming home. It’s like he’s thirteen years old, coming back into the Batcave after patrol and hearing Bruce call him “Jason.” It’s like he’s stuck in every moment where nothing seemed sure anymore. 

He misses the firm doubtlessness he felt last night, standing at the edge of that bridge. Everything was so clear, so cut and dry. He was going to kill himself, and then he wouldn’t be here anymore. Simple, concise, wrapped up neatly in a bow. Just how he likes things.

But now there’s this sinking, heavy, drowning feeling, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s been getting harder and harder until now, when it feels like his lungs are stuttering and he can’t get enough air.

And now Janet’s voice is ringing through his head, admonishing, “Now, Timothy, there is no need for these dramatics. It’s unbecoming of a Drake to behave this way.”  

And for a moment, everything gets worse, and he feels tears begin to run down his face. Then, with his mother’s admonishments echoing through his mind, his breathing evens out. 

The… lapse lasted maybe a few seconds. But Tim just knows that Jason has noticed. Tim can’t bring himself to care, though. He can’t even bring himself to think any coherent thought. Everything has been zapped out of him, leaving a cold, hard shell in its wake.

It feels like hours, but it's probably just a couple of minutes later when he feels the sharp sting of something cold in the palm of his hand. He blinks hazily a few times before he realizes that Jason has gotten up at some point and is now standing in front of him with his arms crossed and expression… concerned? Really? Tim must be reading this wrong.

“You back with me, Timbo?” 

Tim nods numbly before he can really process what he’s doing. He feels water dripping from his hand, and he looks down to see a melting ice cube in his palm. He looks from his hand to Jason, who is openly staring at him, watching him with an intensity that Tim has only ever seen from him at the Tower. 

As soon as the comparison crosses his mind, he shoots it down and shoves it into a box. He can’t think about the Tower right now. Not with Jason standing in front of him and his head spinning from the outrageousness of this situation and the aftermath of his… episode .

“Good, because I have a few suggestions,” Jason continues as if Tim didn’t just fall apart in front of him. Shame bleeds through Tim’s chest and heats his face, because he just fell apart in front of Jason . The Red Hood, one of Bruce’s real sons, and his Robin. 

He can practically hear his mother rolling in her grave at his lack of decorum.

“First is to tell someone you trust,” Jason says, settling back into the chair across from Tim. Jason looks at him expectantly, and he realizes that the man is waiting for his response.

“Why?” is the only word that he can manage.

Jason sighs, “Because when you leave here, I want to know that there’s someone out there that you’ll call when you feel like you want to throw yourself off a bridge.”

A scoff slips from him before he can stop it. But now, Jason’s brows are raised, and he has to commit. “There isn’t anyone like that,” Tim says, then, when Jason just continues to stare, he tacks on, “Not for me.”

“Not Dick? He’s always up for… emotions or whatever,” Jason questions, waving his hand vaguely at the end.

His mind immediately jumps to Dick threatening to put him in Arkham during the whole Bruce-lost-in-time debacle, and he shakes his head slightly. Tim feels his eyes start to water, so he looks away from Jason and out the window to his left. “Definitely not Dick,” he states.

Tim can feel the skepticism rolling off of Jason in waves before he says, “O-kay. How about one of your little Titan buddies?”

“Dead or gone,” Tim mutters, but he knows Jason can hear him, because he can see the man stiffen slightly in his peripheral vision. 

Then, a thick, tense silence settles between them. Tim’s tempted to just get up and leave when Jason speaks softly, “You could call me.”

Tim can’t help the way his head whips around and his gaze snaps back to meet Jason’s. “What.”

“You could-” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair in what is obviously a nervous tic. But why is he nervous?

“I’m sorry.” Tim blinks at the non-sequitur, and then again when he processes what the man said, but Jason continues, “I know that it doesn’t mean shit, because I really fucked up with you, but I am. I was… really fucked up back when I hurt you, which doesn’t excuse it in the slightest, but I was. But, I went to therapy and shit and the Lazarus bullshit has been wearing off and… Look, I’m just really fucking sorry for what I did to you.”

“I-” Tim tries to say something, anything really, but the words get stuck in his throat before he can speak them. That’s what tips him off to the fact that he’s starting to cry for real now, not just watery eyes that could be written off as allergies or something.

“Oh, shit,” Jason says as Tim wipes furiously at his eyes. “I- uh. Forget I said anything. You probably didn’t need to hear that-”

“I did!” Tim exclaims, surprising even himself with the intensity behind his words. “I did,” he repeats, much more mildly than the first time. He never thought he’d get to really talk to Jason, like… ever . Much less receive an apology for… all of it. He feels like a kid again, but not the kid crying himself to sleep in Drake Manor. No, he feels like the kid who hid in the shadows on rooftops to get pictures of Batman and Robin. He feels like the kid who felt the sheer magic of Robin for the first time and was hooked.

Jason shifts slightly in his seat, which Tim recognizes as another nervous tic. He braces himself for whatever Jason has to talk about next, but still isn’t prepared for it when Jason says, “Okay, well, uh, I was going to say you could… y’know, give me a call if you’re ever feeling that way again.”

Tim considers this for several long moments before asking, “Why?”

Jason nods slightly as he says, “I get it. You have no reason to trust me or-”

“No, I mean-” Tim cuts him off, then pauses for a moment, feeling like he has to scramble to get the right words together, “Why do you… care?”

“Because you’re my brother,” Jason replies immediately. Then, he seems to realize what he said and corrects himself, “I know I really fucked up, and I can go back to giving you space, but I-” He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, “I want to be your brother, if that’s what you want.”

Tim is shocked into silence for several long moments. This is Jason, reaching out, asking to be his brother. He’d never even allowed himself to consider this as a possibility, much less think of how he would respond when presented with it. “I want…” Tim trails off, piecing his next sentence together carefully. “I would like to try,” and it comes out so hesitant and small that Tim feels disgusted with himself.

But, he doesn’t have any time to dwell on it, because Jason is smiling again and saying, “Okay, cool. So, you’ll tell me if you’re feeling suicidal again?”

Tim pauses for a moment, considering the option. The thing is, he’s not sure if he’s ever really not been suicidal. It’s always been there, lurking around in his shadow, waiting to catch up with him if he stops and thinks for too long. But, maybe he could call Jason the next time it really catches up to him: the next time he wants to write a note or jump off a bridge.

But there’s a looming, indefinite quality to what Jason is asking of him. Something that implies a long period of time, if not forever. And that makes Tim feel suffocated. He doesn’t know if he wants to live for some undetermined, potentially infinite, amount of time. It spreads out in front of him, like Gotham from the top of a skyscraper. Its vastness spikes his anxiety and twists his stomach.

But Jason is looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, and Tim very much does not want to disappoint him when they’ve only just now come to a truce. So, there has to be some sort of compromise. Some way to placate Jason and quantify that indefinite amount of time. 

That’s when it occurs to Tim: it’s mid-April right now, about three months until his eighteenth birthday. That’s around ninety days. Seems like plenty of time for him to make up his mind. 

So, he’ll agree with Jason, call him when he feels… bad, and accept whatever help Jason wants to give, until his birthday. Then, he’ll either be alive or he won’t. Simple, concise, wrapped up neatly in a bow. Just how he likes things.

He gives Jason a small smile, “Yeah, I will.”

Notes:

Hey y'all! Let me just say: OMG! I'm literally blown away by the support from the first chapter. Y'all are awesome!

I was able to get this chapter done this week because of the long weekend, but future updates might be a little more spaced out due to my insane course load :'( Sorry in advance.

As always, drop a kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed reading this! Comments fuel my writing fr.

XOXO
Mari

P.S.
Chapter title comes from "Metaphor" by The Crane Wives