Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ceiling had a crack in it.

It started where the ceiling and wall met and continued until one of the light fixtures. He had been staring at it for a concerningly long time. It had been light out, last time he looked out the window and now it’s dark out.

He should care. He should worry about how quickly he let the time slip through his fingers. He should get up but…but instead he pulled out another cigarette.

Tim was tired. So. Very. Tired.

If my mother saw me now she would have a hissy fit, Tim contemplates. Over the motels’ less than stellar state, and the fact he’s in a motel and that he’s lying on its dingy floor smoking cigarettes.

He stubbed the cigarette out with probably more force than needed.

He blinked. He hadn't wanted to do that. He wasn't finished.

So unbecoming Timothy, she would say, letting your emotions dictate your moves. She would have clicked her tongue disapprovingly and then walked away. Not once looking back.

Ugh. Just thinking about her got heat to build up behind his eyes. You’d think after all that crying earlier he would have been spent but this week just kept on surprising him.

He dragged himself into a sitting position. A hiss escaping him when he accidentally jostled his torso. The white bandages on his torso rapidly began to turn red.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

He must have reopened one of his stitches—well he’s not really surprised they were a rush job, he really wasn’t trying to stay any longer there with them.

Propping himself against the rickety beds’ frame. He let out a shaky exhale. Inhaling through his nose and exhaling out his mouth. Again and again. Again and again.

Something that Bruce would guide him through just after his parents' accident.

He hated the reminder of him. Of them.

That's what happens when you dedicate almost half your life to them. What a waste. You were such a–

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He left out a final exhale shakily, he bit his lip to try and stop the tremble in them, but that only seemed to make the tremors move to his other parts of his body.

His hands were shaking now. And he couldn't get them to stop.

His breaths were becoming more erratic.

He inhaled. Exhaled. Inhal–what was he kidding.

The breathing wasn't helping. He still felt like he was suffocating. The air was entering his body but it felt like no matter how deep the breath it still wouldn't enter his lungs.

He fumbled with his pockets and pulled out the box and a light. Lighting the cig took longer than Tim would admit but his hands were just not co operating.

He inhaled and finally felt like he could breathe.

As he puffed out the smoke he watched as it climbed toward the ceiling before dissipating. His hands still shook but significantly less.

Another few drags got the shaking to finally stop.

He slumped back down until he was yet again staring at the crack.

God, Tim hated these things. He stared at the cig in his hand for a long time before he pulled it back down to his lips.

But they reminded him of his father and he'll take that sliver of comfort.

Well would he consider the reminder of Jack Drake a comfort, he muses. The man was hardly a good father and an even worse husband but-

Another drag cuts that line of thought.

. . . . . .

Now if you're wondering what Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprise and vigilante Red Robin is doing in a motel on its floor smoking cigarettes, well you're in the same boat as him. Tim has not fucking idea how his life went to shit in the last few weeks.

________________________________

Monday 7: 31am

Tim opened bleary eyes to the screeching of his alarm and cursed his very existence. Why, you ask?

Because he had spent all night finishing up the Hamburg case and called a night all but 3 hours ago. Which would have been fine if he had gone to bed then. Which he did not do. Because patrol had been a bitch which meant he had to spend an extra hour and a half tending to his wounds.

He managed to climb into bed an hour ago. And now he has to get up and go to work. He was running on fumes and was sore all over. Which wouldn't usually be a problem. He's worked through worse but today was going to be grueling. He has six meetings today—six meetings. One with none other than Lex Luther.

So yeah Tim felt like today was going to be shit.

He stayed in bed longer than he was supposed to because now he was rushing to get out the door. Dressing himself as quickly as possible, he definitely strained a few sore muscles. Stopping in front of the bathroom mirror Tim could say he looked like shit. Which is fitting as he feels like shit and that this day was shit and that he wanted to crawl back into bed and eat his leftover takeout and watch stupid reality TV sh-no Tim if start thinking like that you may never leave the house.

He splashed some water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up and wash away the last of his hopes in staying home. Tim covered up the bruises and eye bags as best as he could but he could still see the exhaustion in his eyes. Gelling back his hair he looked up into his reflection and saw her. He looked so much like her that it hurt sometimes. It was all he ever heard at those galas he was forced to attend.

“Oh my! Timothy you are just the spitting image of Janet .”

“You look just like your mother when she was your age.”

“Wow! How time flies, you’ve grown so much. I could have mistaken you for your mother .”

“You know you look just like her .”

He had grown used to the comments, he had been hearing them before he could walk. Before they would make him beam with pride but now they just stung and left a hollow pit in his stomach.

He stayed like that for a while. Seemingly lost in his reflection. Lost in the eyes that used to look down at him with so much love. Lost at the sight of lips that would send him little smiles during the long business meetings.

Tim ached.

He looked away from the mirror. He didn’t feel like Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He felt like a little boy playing dress up.

Tim blinked. Where did all of that come from?

Doesn’t matter, enough with the pity party. He was wasting time just standing here—he needed to get going.

Shrugging on his suit jacket Tim made his way toward the door.

“I guess I'll get breakfast at the office”, Tim sighed.

It was only when he was on the lobby floor he realized he forgot his briefcase. The one with his very necessary notes for his meetings.

Ugh.

Now he had to go all the way back up to his apartment because he had to live on the highest floor.

That’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine.

His eye was so not twitching right now.

Entering the door of WE Tim instantly was blessed with the blast of the AC. Greeting the front desk he beelined for the elevator. He had only 25 minutes before his first appointment and Tam would berate him–well not really berate but give him the look, a skill in which all the fox family members perfected due to dealing with the Wayne's bullshit.

Exiting the elevator he threw a quick wave to Tam who responded with a tap on her wristwatch and a raised eyebrow.

He sent an apologetic smile over his shoulder as he opened his office doors. Tim let out a long suffering sigh as he sunk down into his chair. Today was going to be a long day.

_______________________________

Monday 6:17pm

Tim dragged a hand down his face. Slumping back in his chair, he sighed. Today had been…something.

He had only been allowed 5 minutes in his office before Tam came in with some documents that he needed to review for his first meeting of the day. Then he had to go into that boardroom and sit through that meeting. A meeting that really could have been an email.

The stupid meeting had been an agonizing hour long. Tim swore that every minute spent trying to have a civil conversation with those stuck up dinosaurs he lost a year of his life.

That meeting had left him with a lot of paperwork because nobody could be bothered to fill out the proper forms. So between prepping for his next torture session—sorry appointment he had to clear out all that backed up paperwork.

Then Tam had carded him off to his next appointment. That one had been worth his time at least. It was about this new program Wayne Enterprises was implementing for the public schools of Gotham.

It was an internship program that allowed the kids that usually wouldn't have a chance or a choice when it came to their future to join one of the Wayne Enterprises Youth programs that usually are only available to the schools that can pay the fees, which unsurprisingly isn't a lot.

The Youth programs introduced the students to a number of possible careers which then allows the kids to see a possible future that doesn't involve crime. Which is a future that sadly most Gothamites followed.

That meeting had been fine, possibly the highlight of his day if you don't include lunch. Which he thankfully had after that appointment.

Unfortunately he had the annual financial review. Which is arguably the worst part of his day. Even with his next appointment being with Luthor.

The annual financial review is one of the worst things he has to do and he had only done it once before. He had to be stuffed in a room with the shareholders of the company while they constantly talked over him and tried to convince him to give over his shares. They used overly complicated vocabulary in an attempt to make him feel dumb and always tried to pull something over him. Like he wouldn't notice how 500k went unaccounted for in the new budget. He was trained by The Batman and Janet Drake. He knows how to run a business. And when to know when someone is trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

He also knows they wouldn't have even dared to try this with Bruce. God, he wished Bruce would just take the job back. He was done dealing with these assholes but Bruce had never quit, sure he complained about having to go to the office over his morning coffee while Tim had laughed at him but he never quit.

He’d be damned before he lets Bruce down. Besides, this job is only temporary. Bruce is going to come back and then he’ll have to sit through the financial review and Mr. Emerson bragging about whatever new thing he bought. Any day now.

_______________________________

Luckily his next meeting was a Zoom call so he didn't have to leave his office. Unluckily it was with Lex Luthor. He tried not to let his eye twitch when Luthor had offered to buy out Wayne Enterprises. Again.

Over my dead body, Luthor.

His last two meetings had been regarding the partnership with Astor Inc. The first one being about hashing out the final agreements outlining the terms of the collaboration with Astor Inc. It had surprisingly had minimal disputes and the representatives from Astor Inc. had also been remarkably competent. Which is not everyday in Gotham.

His last and final meeting had been with the marketing department on how to promote the partnership. Astor Inc. had been big on good promotion which makes sense with it being a new business and all.

Astor Inc. or the next Wayne Enterprises as the press called it, was a new company that had been climbing up the ranks for the last 4 years. It was quite impressive but equally suspicious. Usually Tim would just do a quick investigation on the company's founder and its assets but his little investigation yielded very strange results. There was this project they were working on, one that when he questioned the representatives had been very tight lipped about.

Of course they could have been wary of competitors but this had felt different. He had a feeling and by being trained under The Batman for long enough Tim knew to trust this feeling.

Tim sighed. Just another thing to be added to his never ending to do list.

He had then spent the last hour filling out the last bit of forms for the Youth programs. He was signing his approval on one before he heard a knock on his door. It couldn't be anyone else but Tam because they would have had to set an appointment with his secretary and Tam wouldn't have just let someone knock on his door.

"Come in."

She had a Wayne Tech tablet in her hand and a stack of documents in the other.

"Here's the papers from marketing you asked for."

"Thanks Tam."

"You don't sound too thankful."

"I can only be so thankful for more paperwork."

She smiled at that.

"Marcus Joel requested an appointment for tomorrow."

Tim groaned,"You know I don't wanna see him. He's borderline psycho—wait no he is."

"Yeah, well he's your 11am tomorrow," she smiled.

Tam took too much pleasure out of his misery.

"Any thing else on the schedule?"

" On Thursday, you have that trip to Star Labs, Friday you don't have to come in. All your meetings are online and all the work could be done remotely."

"Tam you're an angel."

"Don't I know it."

"Wait what about the quarterly budget check. I thought that was on Friday. "

"Did you even check your email today, it got moved up to Tuesday."

"Ah OK. Wait before you go could you take this to finance."

“Yeah, I'll have Greg take it but before i forget the Wayne Tech Summit,” Tam said without looking up from her tablet, “It’s in a week.”

She looked up at the lack of Tim’s response and frowned.

“You forgot, didn't you.”

“No,” Tim retorted, “It just—just slipped my mind. That’s all.”

She sighed.

“Tim, you can’t keep on doing this.”

“ It’s one meeting, Tam, I'm sor–

“Not that Tim. You can’t keep on doing this to yourself. You’re running yourself into the ground.”

“No I'm–”

“Yes you are Tim. You basically crawl into the office every morning, down a pack of Zestis before 10am, walk around here looking like a zombie and then run off into the night and do whatever you Bats do.”

She seemed to be waiting for a response but Tim didn’t give one.

“It’s not healthy. I’m worried about you. You need a break.”

“Tam…”

“You need a break.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?,” she demanded, “Is it because of Bruce because i swear i will–”

“No, not that–I just–I just can’t,” Tim sighed.

"If you don't put your pride to the side—"

"I'm not being—"

"Well then ask for some help! Stop acting like it's going to kill you!"

"I don't need help. I have it covered. I know exactly when I have reached my limit and—"

"Bullshit! You look 5 seconds from dropping dead on your feet. I'm worried about you. "

"Well i don't need you to be!"

"For someone so smart you can be an idiot sometimes."

"What," Tim blurted.

"You're not listening to me Tim,"She vented. " You'd think someone in your profession would be able to listen," She sighed,"You're running yourself into the ground. And it's not OK—no matter how might try to rationalize it."

Tim glared at her and she returned it. A silence fell over them before Tim spoke up again.

"Take those papers finance."

Tam pursed her lips. She shot him a hard look before plopping herself down on one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"I'm not leaving until you do something."

"Do what?"

"Ask for a break!" She exploded, " I'm this close to getting you a union. You're overworked—"

"But not underpaid."

"We both know you don't need the money," Tam said unimpressed.

"Yeah well," he shrugged.

"Tim."

"Tam."

She sighed and looked at him, her anger replaced with determination.

"Just ask Tim even Bruce couldn't do it all. You know the amount of times he's asked my father to step in for him."

"You’re not letting this go, are you?"

She shook her head.

Tim sighed, "I don't—it's just that—"

"Bruce would have just carried on until he crashed. Yeah, well contrary to your belief you're not him. And you're still a kid."

"You're acting like you're not only 2 years older than me."

"Hush boy, the adult is speaking. Just because you feel like you have do it doesn't mean that you should."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes yes I know, hypocritical coming from me but for your information I'm only hear to look out for you and Dad because you both teeter the line we it comes to overdoing it."

Tam let out a huff before she continued.

"I'm not saying quit just yet because i know you won't but take a step back and catch yourself before you fall."

"OK."

"I care ab—wait what."

"What were you expecting more fight?" Tim asked.

"Definitely. You must be more tired that I thought."

"Gee thanks."

A moment of silence passed.

"Well, go on," Tam prompted.

"What?" Tim sputtered," You want me to do it now."

"If you don't do it now, next thing I know two months are gonna pass and your still gonna be coming in here looking more miserable than inmates on death row."

"Wow. Tam thanks for that image you painted just there," Tim deadpanned. " Do i really look that miserable?," he questioned.

"Yes."

"No hesitation. Wow. OK."

Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He had a number of texts from Bart and a long voice note from Stephanie. Probably her complaining about that one guy in her class. But he scrolled all past that until he got to his contact. His thumb hovered over it for a moment before he clicked it.

It rung for a couple of seconds before it picked up.

“Hey Bruce, can we talk?”

Chapter Text

The Wayne Manor stood impressively against darkening sky. The evening chill was beginning to creep in but that didn't bother Tim at all. He had grown used to it after having to chase criminals in the dead of night for most of his life. It didn't stop him from pulling his suit jacket closer to his body mostly out of habit as he made his way to the Wayne Manor doors.

He sighed. Bruce had said they could talk before dinner. Which Tim found very annoying he had wanted to tell Bruce about taking back the job over the phone (definitely not because he didn't want to see the possible disappointment on Bruce's face) and get it over with. But when was anything simple in this family.

"Good evening, Master Timothy," Alfred greeted at the door.

"Hey Alfred," Tim returned with a small smile.

"Come inside, dear boy, it can get quite damp outside and we don't want you catching another cold, hm," he finished. He was clearly referencing Tim's lack of spleen. Ever since he had found out it had been a source of worry for the man.

"I'm fine, Alfred. A little breeze isn't going kill me."

He pursed his lips and gave him an unimpressed look before leading Tim to the kitchen.

"You are staying for dinner, yes?"

"Do I really have choice," Tim asked with a grin as he sat to the kitchen counter.

"Of course, you do. Its just that I'm not sure they'd be any leftovers for you to scavenge after Master Dick."

"I see," Tim said with a hand on his chin, "I guess I have to stay. I'm definitely not letting Dick hog all of—uh—what are you making?"

"Dinner will be Mushroom wellington paired with Dauphinoise Potatoes along with some creamed spinach. Lord knows you all could do with some more greens,"He added in a mutter," Now I believe you were here for someone."

"Right. Bruce is in his office right?"

A nod directed to him sent him on his way. He was standing outside Bruce's office before he knew it. He let out a breath and knocked on the door.

Tam is lucky she's scary when she's mad, Tim thought to himself, and extremely petty. He still shivers when he thinks about what happened to Joseph from HR. Poor guy. Maybe this was her twisted version of revenge for eating her pudding cup last Tuesday.

"Come in."

He sighed again. He was doing that a lot lately. Maybe he really did need a break.

Upon entering the room, Tim noticed just how much a mess it was. Papers were strewn on the floor along with several empty mugs lining the desk. In the midst of it all sat Bruce looking over some documents intently.

"I see that Alfred hasn't been in here yet."

Bruce grimaced at that. "Don't tell him about the mess." Bruce looked up from the papers, "You wanted to talk about something?"

"Yeah I wanted to ask you—is that the peace treaty for the Gabranians?"

"Yes."

A beat of silence followed.

"Why is it up here? Shouldn't you be down in the cave doing that," Tim asked.

"…"

"Alfred kicked you out the cave, didn't he?"

Bruce shifted uncomfortably and Tim grinned. Bingo.

"He doesn't know what you're doing in here, does he?"

Bruce inhaled sharply, "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"Deflecting, i see"

"Tim."

Tim cleared his throat,"I uh—wanted to—i wanted to talk about Wayne Enterprises."

"What, is Ms. Whitney still giving you a hard time because I told Lucius—"

"No. Not that. I was wondering if you could take back Wayne Enterprises."

"What."

"Yeah, Tam's been on me on taking a break and to take a step back or whatever because this was only a temporary fix and—" he falters when he sees Bruce's face.

He doesn't look angry but he does have the same facial expression his parents did whenever he asked for them to come to any of his school events. Although Bruce is better at hiding his emotions behind an impassive face Tim can tell by the slight clench of his jaw and tightening around his eyes. Irritation mixed with weariness and something else, he can't tell. It's gone before he can analyze further, Bruce is now a blank slate. He obviously doesn't want to talk about this. But now that Tim's talking he doesn't want to stop.

"Look, Tim i know the job can be tiring, trust me i know but you picked a really bad time," he continued, "I'm still hashing out the peace treaty with the Gabranians, plus the backlog of paperwork the Justice League accumulated in my absence—I just won't be able to do all that and be able to give Wayne Enterprises the amount of attention it needs."

"Yeah, I get that but you don't think you could take it just for like a few days."

"Tim I would but i have to finish up with this treaty."

"Yeah Bruce i know but i just need a little breather—"

"Have you asked Lucius to do it?"

"He can't, you know he can't. You know Lucius cannot handle that kind of stress right now. Tam's already worried about him being in the office as is and— "

"Tim," Bruce sighed as he pinched his nose bridge.

Great now Bruce is annoyed.

"What do you want me to do?"

Tim didn’t have an answer for that. (He did actually. Bruce could easily hand over the Gabranians treaty to the Green lanterns to handle but he knows Bruce wouldn't want to do that because he's a control freak.)

"If you can't handle Red Robin and the company then give some of your cases to Dick or Barbara—"

"I can handle my duties," he said firmly.

This is why he didn't want to say anything in the first place. Now Bruce is going to think he's incapable and that he can't manage himself. And because he thinks he's having a hard time which he isn't—Tam was the one who said he needed a break; he's going to coddle him or worse both Dick and him will coddle him. Then Damian, the little shit that he was, would pick up on this and would be compelled to say some snarky comment on how useless he was or something.

They stared at each other for a while. Bruce seemed to finally find the words to respond.

"Look I'm really grateful you took over the position but can you just do this until I'm done with this. We will come back to this, OK."

He ignored the part of him that wanted to tell Bruce that he wasn't listening. He was kid (even if he didn't like to admit it), he didn't want to run some multi million dollar company, he wanted to spend his day hanging out with Young Justice, fighting crime with them and just doing stupid stuff with them. He barely had any time for anything but patrol.

Tim nodded, not trusting his mouth to not blurt out what he was thinking.

Bruce sighed a breath of relief at that.

Geez, didn't know I was such a problem to deal with.

Bruce stood up from behind his desk and made his way towards Tim until he was in front of him and clapped him on the back.

"Thanks for being so understanding, chum."

"Dinner should be ready soon, you should start cleaning up the place," Tim said in replacement of a reply to that.

"Yeah and you should freshen up, you're still in your work clothes."

"I will," Tim said turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Honestly it was for Bruce's benefit, he felt like he would have done something he'd regret if he stayed any longer. Bruce just wouldn't listen sometimes and it was maddening.

He hurried down the corridor to his room.

Stupid Bruce. Doesn't know when to listen when it counts. He was such a blockhead.

He was lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice Dick. He was just exiting his room, probably on his way to dinner. Tim should hurry up then because Alfred made everyone wait until everyone was present at the table before he dished out the food and he didn't want to be the one to hold up dinner. Or maybe he did. Just to be petty. But Damian would probably stab him.

Eh, it was worth the risk, he shrugged.

"Hey Tim," Dick greeted.

" Yeah, hi."

"You’re not looking too hot there."

"Yeah I just had a talk with Bruce and it was…" he trailed off, he was sure Dick would know how he felt.

Dick gave him an understanding look which was warranted, Dick had been dealing with Bruce for the longest out of them all minus Alfred.

"I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it."

"Nah I have it handled." Which is where Tim wanted to end it but when it came to Dick he always felt like he had spill his guts. So he continued. "But he's just being—he's just not listening to me."

"When does he ever," Dick responded more bitterly than he intended. "What did he do?"

Tim could brush him off but like he said he could never keep something from Dick.

"I want to start taking a step back from my role in WE but he can't right now because he's busy with the Gabranian treaty."

The one that he could easily pass off to Green Lantern, he didn't say but Dick knew that.

Dick narrowed his eyes at that.

Here it comes, he grinned

"You should go clean up, dinner is almost ready."

Wait what.

Usually Tim talking about Bruce being a pain would result in a nice bit of trash talking between them as they complained on why Bruce was so Bruce. But just brushing it off. That never happened. So color him a little confused. He was sure the confusion was painted on his face. Dick obviously noticed.

"Look, Tim you know how Bruce is," he sighed. "Just—just stay where you are for now, OK. At least until Bruce is done with the case, alright. Try to cut back on some of your duties, just try to until Bruce finishes this case. He will cut you some slack."

Dick said that last sentence more sternly then the rest. The tone reminded Tim more of his Batman voice than anything. It made him furrow his brows.

"Dick wha—"

"Can you just do this for now. You understand where I'm coming from, right?"

A beat of silence followed before Tim finally responded.

"No, yeah I understand."

He must have succeeded in sounding reassuring because Dick smiled before clapping on his back. The action identical to Bruce's. Maybe he picked it up from him?

Whatever.

Dick made his way downstairs and Tim continued his walk to his room. As soon as Tim had closed his bedroom door behind him his temper got the best of him and he had kicked his trash can across his room. That unfortunately did nothing to quell his frustration, it only created a mess he would have to clean before Alfred saw. He held his head in hands while he let out a groan.

Why was everything so difficult?

Tim buried his head in his pillow as flopped onto his bed.

Can you just do this.

Thanks a lot of Tam, he thought bitterly. Logically he knew that it wasn't her fault but he did blame her for giving him that hope. Of course he couldn't just step back. Bruce wouldn't. Dick wouldn't. Damian sure as hell wouldn't. And now Dick and Bruce probably thought he was incapable. He should have known.

He always had to understand.

Unsurprisingly dinner was quiet that night.

Tuesday 10: 29am

Fortunately Tim did not have to rush to get the office that morning because of the godsend that is Alfred Pennyworth. When Tim had woken up, his suit was already laid out, ironed and breakfast was laid out on the table. He had forgot how good it was to live in the Manor.

Then that thought was instantly soured with the memories of last night. After dinner was patrol and it was clear that after his talk with Bruce he had come to the conclusion that Tim was incompetent because all he did on patrol was coddle him. It was infuriating. Bruce even ended patrol early. He didn't need any special treatment he could handle himself just fine. Which he verbalized to him quite loudly. Then he was carded off to bed by Alfred. Which was unappreciated.

Ignoring all of that, he had managed to leave for work without needing to rush and got there at reasonable time. If Tam was surprised she didn't say anything. She probably going to grill him for what happened last night when he finally had some free time.

Which is where he was now. Tim was currently prepping for the disaster that was Marcus Joel. Nothing against the guy he was just very eccentric to put it into words. He was the head director of R&D and took his job quite seriously. Usually Tim would avoid Marcus when he asked for an appointment but he could only avoid him for so long.

There was a knock at the door. Tim hoped it wasn't Marcus. Sometimes he came a little earlier because he had some extra ideas he wanted to run by Tim. He wasn't asking for permission it was more of like he telling Tim what to expect when the next time the fire department came around.

It wasn't Marcus, thank the heavens. It was Tam. That was arguably worse. She sat herself down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. Tim decided he was not going to look at her. He still needed to mentally prepare for Marcus.

"So, how did it go," she began.

"It went surprisingly well. The Legal department has finally settled that lawsuit wit—"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Tim pursed his lips before responding.

"It went fine."

"Don't be like that," she rolled her eyes, "Tell me what really happened."

"It doesn't matter."

"If it didn't matter I wouldn't care, so what happened because it clearly didn't go too well."

She saw the look of surprise on his face and said, "You had your I'm-upset-my-plan-didn't-go-as-planned face when you walked in."

"So what he'd say?"

There was another moment of silence that followed. Tim was trying to find the words to minimize the fallout. The last thing he needed was Tam angry on his behalf (because trust him, he can be angry enough for the both of them). But Tim felt that frustration from last night and he didn't want to make it disappear and sort it out civilly. Call it pettiness but right now he wanted to be mad. Maybe it was because Dick didn't have his back last night or maybe it was because he was dismissed by both Dick and Bruce. So sue him if he was feeling a bit indignant.

So maybe he told Tam what Bruce said. And maybe they had a discussion something like this.

"What do—Why would he—He can not be serious."

Tim sighed at that. It did feel validating to have someone also realize the unfairness of the situation.

"Please tell me you kicked his ass after that."

"Not exactly," he saw how her face instantly soured, "I couldn't exactly tell him to just drop the case. I was just giving him proof that I'm not capable, like who tells The Batman to drop an important case just because your not able to—

"Tim who gives a fuck!" she exclaimed. She was getting tired of Tim's bullshit.

"I do! I'm not going to let people down," he ran a hand through his hair," Bruce is just busy right now. It's not like its going to be forever, it's just for now."

"Yeah and he said that last time you asked."

He crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

It had only been a few months into being CEO, Bruce was back and Tim was ready to give the job back. So when Bruce had dropped by Wayne Enterprises to prove to the public he wasn't dead he had really just been on a 'vacation' he had pulled him to the side to offer it back but Bruce said he couldn't. Not yet. And Tim respected that. Bruce had been trough a lot so he waited. Then it had been weeks, then months and now it had been almost a year.

"Who told you that," Tim demanded.

"Doesn't matter, what matters is that you shouldn't be doing this. Bruce should have been claimed his position back. He can't keep on hiding behind being Batman. I thought that by now he would have—I don't know, been ready."

He was now regretting telling Tam.

"Just drop it Tam. I never should have said anything"

Tam leaned forward out of her chair and opened her mouth to say something but Tim cut her off.

"Leave. I need to prepare for my next appointment."

"I'm just trying to help yo—"

"Yeah and look where did that get me."

She huffed and threw up her hands as she got up from the chair. He jaw was clenched and she had her tablet in a death grip.

"You know you are one dense asshole sometimes."

She stormed out and left Tim alone with his thoughts. Tim knew that he shouldn't have said that. He wasn't really mad at Tam. He was angry at Bruce and maybe a bit mad at himself. Tam was trying to help him. He didn't mean to lash out but he was just so irritated. He didn't want her to get caught in the crossfire of his anger, he knew all too well what it was like.

He buried his head in his hands.

Outside Tam sat down at her desk and buried her head in her arms. She was worried about Tim Drake. And she wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Hello, I am he Mr. Drake's 11am," a voice sounded out from above her.

"Sorry," she cleared her throat as she sat up, "He'll be ready to see you in a minute."

She clicked the intercom button, "Mr. Drake, Mr. Joel is ready for his appointment."

He responded, clipped and professional, "Send him in."

And Tam was left alone again but she wasn't going to wallow here. She was going to help him. Tam cracked her knuckles, she had some work to do.

Chapter Text

Exhaustion had become a friend Tim knew all too well. Every morning as he awoke he was encapsulated in it. It clung to him like how moss clings to a tree. He was no stranger to the heaviness in his limbs after a long day or long night. He was used to the slight headaches he would get from staring at a screen for too long or from just doing so much in such a small time bracket. Of course he never let it slow him down he was beyond that. But let's just Tim was used to having even just the slightest bit of fatigue clinging to him.

So he was somewhat confused when he woke up somewhat well rested. He was also very confused why there was sunlight streaming in through a bay window. Windows he very much did not have in his bedroom.

Until it hit him, "Oh right," he huffed, he was in Greece right now for the Wayne Tech Summit. That's why it was so sunny. It was kinda unnerving. In Gotham there was barely any 'good' weather (good weather was subjective Tim liked the doom and gloom vibes the constant deary weather created) so whenever Tim traveled out of Gotham it took him a while to acclimate to bright weather. Honestly Tim didn't know how people dealt with it.

Swinging his feet off the side of the bed, Tim grabbed his phone off the side table and checked the time. It was 8:27am and he had a couple of notifications. A few emails regarding a few issues in the IT department, some messages from the young justice group chat and pleasantly a text from Cass.

He read it, she heard he was in Europe and she was in the area and wanted to see if he wanted to meet up. It had been about 2 months since he last saw her. She had been on an undercover mission since then. Communication had been sparse and in between and he realized how much he had missed her.

Giving her a confirmation, Tim trudged onto the bathroom, he still needed to get ready for the first conference.

Wednesday 3:55pm

The Wayne Tech Summit was set up for 2 conferences a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. It was to be a 3 day convocation and afterwards Tim would catch the next plane back to Gotham.

Tim was walking out the assembly building after the afternoon conference but instead of heading back to his hotel room he was going to meet up with Cass at their designated spot. He wasn't running late far from it actually but he was still rushing; he just really wanted to see his sister. It had been too long.

Tim debated on changing out of his suit, it was awfully hot but he decided not to. Halfway to the spot he cursed the weather and the fact he decided to walk. Honestly the sun and heat was unbearable. He should have changed.

Nearing the waterfront, Tim sighed. The water was beautiful. Just the clearest cerulean waters that he wouldn't even dream about in Gotham. Maybe the weather was worth the view.

Tim and Cass had agreed on this little shop by the waterfront, it was closest to the assembly building and it served pretty good Loukoumades, if Cass was to be trusted. Upon entering the little shop he saw her there sitting at a little table with two cups and munching on what he assumed was Loukoumades.

She got up to greet him with a hug and he returned it with fervour. Had he said he missed her? He wasn't sure why he did so much. It wasn't like she hadn't gone on missions like this before, heck even he had gone on undercover missions for extended periods of time. Maybe it's because these last few months had been a little hard on him. Or maybe it was because of last week. He didn't know he just knew he was happy to see his sister.

They sat back down.

"So how did the mission go?"

"Good. How are you? You look…," she paused for a minute, trying to find the right word, "Still tired but not so much now."

Usually when someone said he looked tired he would just say that last night he hadn't gotten any sleep unless they were Tam or Cass. Tam knew his schedule and knew there was no way Tim was getting a proper 8 hours a night more than once a month. For Cass there was no use in lying to, she would know.

"Yeah, I haven't been sleeping good for the last few weeks—a lot of meetings this time of year."

She frowned at that.

"Not good. Need rest. Lots."

"I have been."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, clearly not believing him. It was comfortingly similar to Alfred. That brought a smile to his face.

"Really, I have! Since I've gotten here I have gotten all this sleep. Plus on the plane ride I slept the whole way."

"You came yesterday."

"Your point is?"Tim snarked.

She rolled her eyes before giving him a pensive look.

"Rest is more than sleep. You need fun."

Tim furrowed his brows. He has fun. He has fun all the time. He's the funnest person he knew.

Wait. That don't sound right. That sounded crazy loner-ish. Kinda like…

HOLY CRAP. This job was turning him into Bruce!

Seriously when was the last time he went out with young justice or even just went skateboarding? Too long, that's what.

Cass sent him a knowing smile, seemingly able to read his thoughts and hear his realization. She probably could.

"You will do things other than work," She commanded, knocking Tim out of his daze.

"Huh," he replied,oh so eloquently.

"Here. You will have fun. Less work here."

"Wait. Cass I am not staying here long, after the Summit is over I'm catching the next flight to Gotham."

"No you're not."

"Um, yeah I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

They did that for three minutes before Tim thought to ask why.

"Why would I stay here?" he asked exasperated.

"Because you are."

Deeming this as one of her ploys to annoy him, Tim decided that they were done going back and forth like this.

"Whatever Cass. Did you bring me anything from Morocco?"

That seemed to be the right thing to divert the conversation because she began to dig in her bag looking for whatever trinket she bought.

Cass and Tim talked for couple hours eventually leaving the little shop to walk down the waterfront. They didn't talk much but that didn't bother them. Tim welcomed the silence. Tim grew up in silence. As did Cass. But this wasn't the same as that silence.

This was comforting. Like those blankets at the manor. Alfred would pull them out after a long patrol. They were fluffy and so soft. And they would just engulf you.

Tim had been tempted to buy some for his nest but those were strictly for the manor. He didn't know why but he knew it would feel wrong having them without Bruce being there with a blanket thrown over his lap and Alfred brewing some warm tea and preparing a small snack before they were both sent off to bed.

The quietness between Cass and Tim was welcomed. It was a breath of fresh air. This was the most peaceful moment Tim had had in a while. They walked together until the sun began to dip. Then they made their way to Tim's hotel. Tim had offered for Cass to stay with him but she had to bounce. She still had some loose ends to tie in the next country over. She promised to text him and that she'll be in Gotham within the next month.

That put a smile on Tim's face. So that night for the first time in many months Tim went to bed with a smile on his face.

And he got 9 hours of sleep. Win win.

So that's why he should have known something was up. Because things can't go too well for him.

Friday 5:16pm

Today was Tim's last day in Greece. As soon as that last conference was over he had basically ran back to his hotel to pack to catch the next flight back home. And then he did. He went to the airport and was already boarding the plane.

Well then if that's what happened why was he still in his hotel?

Because of Tam. That's why.

Tim was currently sitting on the edge of his bed furiously trying to call Tam to ask why the hell has his leaving date had been pushed back 3 days but she wasn't answering.

He let out a groan and flopped back down on the bed.

He ran a hand through his hair and laid there blinking up at the ceiling.

Earlier when he had finished packing his suitcase he had checked his emails to see an email from Tam. Which wasn't unusual, what was unusual was its contents.

To spare you all the unnecessary details, it basically read that Tam had postponed his return date to Monday night since he wouldn't be needed Saturday through Sunday and all of Mondays meeting has been moved to the next Thursday.

The problem was that there was no fault in that. Tam had diligently divided up the tedious work from Monday and Sunday between another assistant and herself and postponed the rest until Thursday. So he had the day free. Which he would have appreciated if he was in Gotham. Which he wasn't.

Sure he would love to have an actual weekend where he didn't have to go into the office or even look at a document and better yet a 3 day weekend but he didn't want to spend it in sunny sweaty Greece. He would rather be in Gotham. Because he could use the weekend to his advantage. First he could get 8 hours of sleep, do a deep dive on all his cases and probably solve them all and have more patrol time.

But no he was in Greece and for what reason? He didn't know.

A ping from his phone shook him out of his misery.

It was another email from Tam.

Timothy Drake-Wayne Schedule Change

To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

Good Day, Mrs. Deacon

Apologies for the abrupt news on Mr. Drake-Wayne schedule change. Due to unforeseen circumstances Mr. Drake-Wayne is currently unavailable for the next three days for a scheduling mishap for the flight bookings.

All of Mr. Drake-Wayne appointments have rescheduled for when he is next available.

Please refer to my last email for the new schedule.

Kind regards,

Tamara Fox

Oh my g—she really did that. Tim knew damn well that there was no 'scheduling mishap'. She rearranged his schedule just so that he could get a little 3 day weekend trip.

Tim didn't know whether to be impressed or angry.

Was he really angry because Tam worked behind his back to get him a break?

Shouldn't you, I don't know be a little grateful?

No!

She's way out of line! He has very important things to do in Gotham.

Like for one, he was needed in Gotham to fight crime (no you don't didn't Dick say he could to take over your patrol route because you're incapable) he has cases he needed to complete (He only had one time sensitive case that had teamed up with Jason because he knew he was going to be gone for 3 days and Jason could totally take care of it himself) all the rest of his cases were cold cases that Babs could look over if she wanted to)).

…

Well—give him a moment he could think of another excuse reason.

Here's one!

He didn't need her meddling in his life. He can handle himself, he can—

A text message from Tam came through.

Just take the break asshole

Cass's words flashed across his mind.

Rest is more than sleep.

You will have fun. Less work here.

You will do things other than work

Of course she knew, he thought somewhat embittered that he got played.

He texted Tam back.

Fine

He could fight Tam or maybe Cass on a good day but them together? He'd be a fool to try that. He knows when he's beat.

Tim was officially stuck in Greece for the next 3 days. What was he to do?

Well right now he wanted to sleep. And so he did.

Saturday 4: 38am

Tim blinked up at the ceiling and turned his head toward the bedside table to check the time.

He had been asleep for almost 12 hours straight. He was honestly surprised he hadn't slept longer actually.

He knew he wasn't going back to sleep now so now swinging his legs off the side of the bed Tim made his way to the bathroom. He didn't have a plan for today, he didn't have a plan for any of this. Not that that bothered Tim to much. He was a planner. He was used to having a wrench thrown in his plans. He can work out something. Something to do.

His fingers tapped on the bathroom counter top as he brushed his teeth. He was thinking.

When had it become so hard for him to think of something for him to enjoy?

Maybe he really did need this break.

Huffing Tim leaned down and spat into the sink and began gargling some mouth wash.

To make a plan Tim needed to know his limitations. What couldn't he do right now.

Well he was supposed to be resting/relaxing. So any type of work was out of the question. He couldn't patrol. Sure he had his suit but the crime rate here was laughable compared to Gotham. All he could do was probably stop a few petty crimes plus the sun will be rising in a couple hours. And he was rather operate in a foreign city cloaked in the darkness. Extra protection since he's not on his home turf and doesn't have any back up within an hour away (not that he'd need it).

He could work out. He did spy a gym on one of the floors of the hotel. But he doubted he could actually work out with out raising some questions and he seriously doubts any of the equipment was up to Bat standard. So no working out.

Hm.

He could…he could go out and sight see. He hasn't been to Greece other than for that one mission with Dick like 4 years ago. But they hadn't really sat down then to sniff the flowers they quickly had to return Gotham.

Dick had been really excited to see the ruins and the museums with Tim. Dick doesn't look it but he's a huge history nerd. He had already been Greece already but he'd been so excited to show Tim and most likely info dump for like 4 hours straight.

It would have been fun.

His grip on the bathroom counter top tightened.

Maybe no sightseeing today.

Leaving the bathroom Tim went to go change out of his pjs. He knew now that here the heat was no joke so he wore something way more lighter than he did on his first day here.

At least I don't have to wear anymore stuffy suits around here, Tim thought to himself as he slipped on some shorts and his sneakers.

He checked the time again. It was barely 5 o'clock and breakfast wasn't going to start for another hour and a half. Sighing through his nose, Tim grabbed his phone off of the charger. Something had happened with Bart so the Young Justice group chat had blown up over night. Nothing malicious from what Tim could read just a brand of dumbness only Bart could create. He smiled despite himself. He had a few texts from Steph complaining about his 'scheduling mishap'. He forgotten that they were supposed to patrol together tonight. Also there was a text from Jason.

Nothing from Dick or Bruce though. He frowned.

He opened his messages with Jason.

Asshole(Red edition)

Heard you're stuck in Greece for the weekend.

Real smooth.

Idk what ur talking bout

im still working n all dat

Whatever.

Get me something

Maybe

if u ask nice imight

say pls

Fuck off.

Guess Jason thought he did this himself. He would have corrected him but knowing Jason he would make fun of him for having to be trapped in another country by his PA for him to chill out. Tim didn't think he was telling anyone that Tam trapped him in Greece, he'd rather go with the cover up she came up with—way less embarrassing.

Sending a quick apology to Steph and a promise of ice cream for when he's back, Tim sat back down on the edge of the bed.

He could go out for a walk, he mused. That did seem like a good idea.

Going out for a quick walk along the beach that was near the hotel and then come back for breakfast. Then he could figure out what else he could do. Maybe he would go swimming. The beaches here were mesmerizing. And then look for a little trinket for Cass. She would appreciate that. And maybe just maybe look for something for Jason. And Steph most definitely. That should be enough to keep him busy for the day.

See, he could relax.

So Tim set off and had a really fulfilling day and relaxed and had fun and all that jazz. And the other 2 days were spent in similar fashion.

<WRONG>

You really think anything in Tim life is that easy. No farthest thing from it. Nothing ever goes to plan. So this is how his day went:

Tim had exited the hotel and was making his way to the beach not to far away. The sun still hadn't risen just yet. The sky still had stars twinkling in the sky. Gotham didn't have stars.

His feet found the path that led to beach and soon enough his hearing began to be flooded by the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. The path was partially covered by long hanging branches that Tim had to constantly move out the way lest he get a mouthful of leaves. His hair got caught more times than he liked to admit.

Maybe it's time for a haircut, Tim contemplated as he ran a hand through his hair, he pulled a twig out from his hair. Or maybe I should have taken to proper way to the beach rather than the back alley way.

Well he wanted to start on the edge of the beach for his walk. Emerging from the bushes Tim's breath was caught in his chest.

It was beautiful.

The water was dark but had this slight purple hue that Tim was sure Stephanie would love. It meet with what he assumed was white sand which looked grey from the lack of light. The sky was still a dark blue but had lightened a lot since he had woken up. The moon was still high; a waning crescent tonight. Clouds were far and in between so the moon shined down on the waters.

Something that could never happen in Gotham. The thick smog choked any moonlight except for the few nights in which it was an especially bright full moon. Those were the nights you could see the moon. It was unfortunate they were rare and most people never saw them. Gothamites didn't spend time staring at sky, you couldn't afford to have your head up in the clouds. That will cost you.

It really is a shame though. Even if Gotham is a shithole it does have it's moments of beauty. Moments that are usually only seen by the bats and birds. It made Tim mad. Some nights as he patrolled his fingers itched for a camera. Just to catch those rare moments Gotham open up its heart for her knights.

His fingers were itching for a camera right now. He wanted to capture this moment forever and put the evidence back in his pocket.

He cursed the fact he hadn't packed one.

Well it wouldn't have made sense to pack it anyway, he hadn't touched a camera in months.

Tim let out a breath and began trekking down the beach, his hand stuffed in his pockets.

Maybe i could buy one, he considered.

Later.

He continued down the shoreline, breathing in the sea salt.

He walked up and down a couple times before the sun began to peek up from behind the horizon. And if Tim didn't want his camera then he definitely wanted it now. The sky was a mixture and reds and yellows making the water seem like it was glowing. The sand now a bright white. People began to trickle into the water and Tim took this as a sign for him to leave.

He decided he wanted to leave different from where he entered, an actual paved path. Way less chance of getting assaulted by tree branches.

Tim made his way up from shore to the path and began to trek back up the tides crashing becoming less and less prominent. The he heard it.

Straying off the main path he saw there was a small path leading in between some trees.

Tim had always been a curious child. Too curious than his own good some might argue. And he would argue back that that was what made him such a good detective.

So Tim turned down the path and pushed away some branches in his way. It led to another beach. A little smaller and had much more rougher sand. Rather than the white sand this beach had tiny pulverized shells and rocks acting as it's sand.

Must hurt to walk on barefoot.

This beach also had a lot more people on it. He paid them no mind.

And once again he was drawn to the water. It looked so enchanting. Until then he heard it again.

Tim turned around facing inland trying to pin down that familiar noise.

Up where the beach ended and pavement began there were some kids skateboarding. The sound of wheels hitting pavement brought back memories. Good ones. Tim was already walking up there before he knew it.

Tim probably looked like a weirdo just standing there watching but he was somewhat entranced. He realized it had been way too long since he's been skate boarding.

Maybe he could pull out the redboard when he gets back in Gotham. Tweak and tinker with it a little. Make it suitable for the night life again. It had been sitting around somewhere catching dust.

Just as he was contemplating some additions to the redboard a voice called to him. Or at least he thought it was for him.

It was one of the boys sitting off the side with a skateboard sitting by his feet.

It took him a second for him to process what the boy asked. One because Tim was a little out of it and two it was in Greek. His Greek wasn't very good but he could piece together what he said.

He asked if he wanted to skate with them. Tim had nodded before he realized he was.

The boy got up—he looked around the same age as Tim, late teens most likely and strolled over towards him. He placed his skate board at Tim's feet and then spoke.

He must have realized Tim wasn't a native or at the very least didn't speak Greek well because his next words were spoken in an accented english.

"Have you skated before?"

Tim nodded.

He sent Tim a grin and motioned to the skateboard. Tim put a foot on the board and let it roll up and down underneath his foot before he kicked off and began skating down the path. Trying out the board Tim did a little kickflip and continued rolling down the pavement.

Tim was sure he was grinning now.

He went up and down the pavement again and again doing some tricks before the boy called out to him again.

"Hey we're going to the skate park. Want to come?"

Heel stopping right in front of him, Tim nodded. He wasn't sure why he agreed. He had a plan today. Not that it was a concrete plan but still an outline and this was definitely not part of it. But the whole point of him being here was to relax and nothing ever made him as happy as when he was on his board. So he guesses that's why he agreed so quickly even though he doesn't even know this boy's name.

"Come on, its down the street," the boy says as he starts to walk off.

Some of the other kids started to depart with them. Tim went to hand the board to the boy but the boy just brushes him off.

"Nah, keep it for the park. I got another."

The two walk together amidst the group of other teens and preteens walking to the skate park.

"So, "the boy begins conversationally," Do you not speak?" he asks.

Tim blanches at that.

"What," Tim starts, "I can speak."

He puts up his hands up in mock surrender.

"Well you haven't said anything this whole time."

Tim blinks at that.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A beat.

"What's your name?"

Tim sent a sideways glance. This guy sure liked to ask questions.

Or maybe your just paranoid.

"Tim."

"Tim, huh. I'm Nickoloas."

The group had dispersed now everyone flooding the now lively skate park.

Nickoloas darted off, probably to go get that other board. Tim took it as a sign to start skateboarding but before he could place the board down Nickolaos was speaking from behind him.

"Where you from?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm curious," he shrugged.

"America," Tim answered.

"Figured."

No point in telling him Gotham. For some reason that always set non-Gothamites off. Made them weary or too intrigued. And Tim didn't need that extra attention. Right now he wanted to skate. And so he did. Like for real. No funny business. Tim got to skate until the sun was making its way high in the sky.

Eventually he sat down on the curb. His throat was parched and his breaths came out a little heavy.

"Here."

A bottle of water was shoved into his hand.

Looking up it was Nickolaos standing in front of him. His white shirt was thoroughly drenched from sweat making it cling to his body. Which was eye catching to say the least.

Nickoloas was an attractive man. He had short sun kissed brown hair that curled at the ends, tanned skin and with an obviously very good build. A swimmers build.

He must swim a lot.

Tim's eyes raced up Nickoloas body before he put his lips to the bottle. Nickoloas was cute and all but Tim didn't need that kind of distraction right now. Tim decided to turn his attention to something else. Like the view behind him.

You could still see the beach from here and it looked absolutely heavenly. The high noon sun glistened off beautiful crystal waters and its rocky shore. Trees framed the beach as if to keep it hidden from the rest of the world. The glare off the water nearly blinded Tim.

He took a deep breath of the salty air and allowed a small smile to grace his face. He really wanted to capture this moment in his camera.

Tim stomach grumbling brought him out of his thoughts. He forgot he didn't eat breakfast. His stomach grumbled again. This time much louder.

"Hey you want to get some lunch?" Nickolas asked with a smile.

He definitely heard his stomach. Tim could feel the heat in his cheeks. Its cool he could play it off.

"Oh, sure. You know a place?"

"There's this place down the street. Everyone loves it."

Success!

…..

They were sitting down together on a big stone. The two were both facing the seaside, Tim soaking in the light breeze. They had just finished lunch—brunch in Tim's case and were making some small talk.

"So why did you come here."

"Business."

"Business? Is that code for something else?" Nickolaos asked.

"No," Tim replied aghast.

"Sorry, sorry," he held up his hands in mock surrender. "You just don't look like those business people who come here."

"I don't?"

Tim guesses that made sense. He was sure he looked like "those business people" when he was properly dressed in suit and briefcase but right now he probably looked like a kid on vacation.

"Yeah. I mean you are serious but you don't act like they do."

"I don't?"

"It’s a good thing." Nickolas said as he ran a hand through his curls, " They all act like they are better than us. You don't. Well except for when you was skateboarding."

"What did you think I was gonna be bad or something," Tim laughed.

"Yeah actually. When you were just standing there watching Lucas you looked like you had never seen a skateboard before."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I mean I guess that's kinda of true," Tim said. " I haven't been able to skateboard lately. I've been buried in work."

Lately? Try almost a year.

"Ah, so is that why you've come here," he asked bringing his legs up and sitting criss-cross.

"No actually I got stuck here for a couple of days due to some mistake in my schedule." Tim answered going with Tam's lie.

"Good thing you did."

"Yeah it is," Tim licked his lips before continuing. "I don't know why but being here just for today made me realize how much I missed doing the things I like."

Nickolaos was looking at Tim with a hard look on his face.

And in a subdued and understanding tone he said, "I get it."

"You do?"

"It's not the same as you but I got caught up trying to impress people who didn't really care about me and well kinda put what I wanted to the side." He stretched his arms above his head, "So this summer I decided that I was done with that and I was going to do what I wanted and have some fun."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah I got back into all the things I used to be into."

Tim tilted his head contemplatively, "Maybe that's what I need to do when I go back home."

"I really hope you do."

That was sweet. Maybe though. Maybe.

"I decided that I was going to try new things." Nickolaos had gotten up now. He was staring at the horizon, "I needed to get to know myself all over."

"Maybe I need to do that too."

Nickolaos hummed in agreement before turning back to face Tim.

"The water looks good right now. Do you want to come surfing with me?"

That question wasn't one that Tim was expecting.

"Well you do want to try new things and this is just the place. New place. New things!"

Not that Tim was backing out or anything. It's just that Tim wasn't prepared for this. Like at all. He didn't have a swimsuit, he was planning to walk back to the hotel and buy one there at one of those gift shops before heading down into the water. He also hasn't gone surfboarding before either. And this was again throwing a wrench into his plans. Not that he could call what he had in mind a plan. More like a vague outline.

Seeing his hesitation on his Tim's face Nickolaos said, "Come one, what was the saying. Um. There's no time like the present. Yes that. Come on. It will be fun. If you don't know how I will teach you. It is very similar to skateboarding."

" No not that. I don't have a swimsuit."

And surfing wasn't in the plan!

Man fuck your plan. Live!

"You didn't pack a swimsuit to here," he said as he gestured to the beach which waves were now being ridden by surfers.

"This was originally a business trip," Tim rolled his eyes.

"Fine. We can go down to that tourist shop and you buy swimsuit."

Oh right. Tim had looked up the area on Google maps and there a bunch of tourist shops around here.

"Come let's go before the shops getting crowded," Nickolaos held out his hand.

Tim could turn him down and do what he originally wanted to do but he found himself wanting to do this as well. Today he'll indulge himself. He doesn't do that much anymore and plus it was his vacation right now.

Tim grabbed the hand offered to him and let it haul himself off the rock. Nickoloas turned and started walking to the street.

"Come!"

Yeah. Just for today. He'll indulge himself.

Nickolaos led him to a small shop that had a colorful sign up above its door. A lady sitting down on a chair got up and greeted Nickolaos in rapid Greek before she turned to him and offered a polite smile.

In a english she said, " My Nickolaos will help you with what you need. OK."

She turned away and began organizing some racks of bikinis.

"You know her?" Tim asked.

" Oh yeah. She's my aunt. She's the one who helped me realize earlier that I wasn't happy," Nickolaos said a bit sheepish.

Tim smiled at it.

"No. I get it. I have someone like that at home." Tim responded thinking of Tam.

Nickoloas then led him to rack full of trunks and began shifting through them. Tim totally did stand behind him awkwardly.

He pulled out a pair of trunks and shoved them into his hands and directed Tim to a changing room in the corner.

"I look so pale."

Tim stood in front of a mirror by the dressing room. This blue was doing him no favors.

"A sheet of paper," Nickolaos laughed.

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Where i live there isn't a lot of sun."

Nickolaos scrunched up his nose at that.

"Well no time like the present to start up on that tan."

" I don't even know if I tan."

That raised Nickolaos eyebrows.

"Wow," He sounded genuinely surprised. "Did you bring sunblock because you are definitely going to need it."

Tim sighed. Guess that's what comes with living in Gotham City. Tim paid for the swimsuit along with a bottle of sunblock and the two made their way to the end of the street before a thought popped into his head.

"Wait I don't have a surfboard,"

Nickolaos face palmed.

"Ready?"

As ready as I'll ever be.

Tim let out a breath.

"Yeah."

Nickolaos let out a whoop before running into the waves, Tim close behind him with a grin on his face.

10:32pm

The sun had set hours ago but Tim wasn't cold. The chill had nothing on Gotham and besides the warmth underneath his skin was keeping his warm right now. He wasn't leaving just yet. The beach was just so beautiful. And besides it wasn't like he wasn't used to night life. If you could even call this a night life.

It always shocked him in a way how quiet other cities nights were. Gotham was anything but quiet, always screaming unapologetically. Whether it be a yowling cat, an obnoxious drunk or just the sounds of a another police chase, Gotham never shut up. So just sitting here on the sand watching the tide go in and out was just so weird. With no extra background noise to filter out, it felt so quiet. Deafening actually.

It reminded him of Kon. The only time he'd gone to beaches similar to this had been with Young Justice. But even then it wasn't quiet. There was always someone chattering or something to laugh about, and even in the rare times it was silent. It wasn't like this. Not at all.

Tim was knocked out of his musing by someone knocking on his shoulder.

He looked beside him. It was Nickolaos. He had gotten a pack of cigarettes from somewhere and was currently smoking a cigarette.

He held a hand out toward Tim.

He was offering one to him.

Tim looked at the cigarette being offered to him.

He really shouldn't. It's bad. Of course he knew that. He's sat through so many lectures from Bruce on how bad smoking was for you and so many presentations at school about drug use and all that junk.

He really really shouldn't. It was like Nickolaos was telling him too. Tim could turn him down. And do what he was originally wanted to do. But he found himself wanting to do thing too. Maybe just for today he'll indulge himself. He doesn't do that much anymore and it's his vacation.

So he took it.

And put it to his lips.

And lit it.

Did he know that was the beginning of the end?

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The next day Tim went out and got an ungrateful Jason something along with Cass a magnet he'd knew she'd want to put on the fridge in the manor. He knew better than to get Steph some clothes so he settled for some weird candies that she would love to try. That took him until about early afternoon. He then decided he was going to try and find Nickoloas at the park or at the beach. This time he made sure to have his swimsuit on him.

Nickoloas was delighted to see him and much like yesterday they along with some other kids spent the entire afternoon surfing. It was fun. Something new and exciting. Not that patrolling wasn't exciting because it was. But it was also way more exciting when he wasn't tired.

And then much like yesterday after most of the other kids had left he stayed behind with Nickoloas on the shore.

And much like yesterday he indulged himself.

It was only for today, he repeated in his head.

Nickoloas unaware of his inner turmoil, to caught up in his own thoughts or whatever was going on in his head.

But eventually the thoughts went away. And he was left with some semblance of peace.

The guilt he felt for betraying Bruce's rules were heavy in the mornings but Robins always broke Batman's rules. So it didn't really matter. Because this was only for today the trip.

On Monday, his last day he spent the first half of his day opening up his work email and beginning some of the work projects that he would have to do when he touch American soil. He had a few messages from oracle, she had solved these two cold cases he started but other than that there had been nothing else related to his night life.

Tim didn't know if that hurt or not.

So closing his laptop he spent the rest of his day at that skate park. When Nickoloas has seen him he smiled so brightly. Turns out Tim did tan a little over the last three days. It wasn't a crazy tan but it was deep tan for Tim. Tim was honestly surprised himself. Tam would definitely use it as a sign he had a good time, excusing her actions from earlier.

This time he'll let it pass though. Only because this was a Cass and Tam team up and definitely not because he for sure loved it here.

His flight wasn't until 10pm so he could stay out until his usual time. Nickoloas seemed a little sad to see him gone. Tim wouldn't lie and say he wasn't a little sad to go. The escape from his responsibilities was fun while it lasted.

Nickoloas made sure to tell Tim to follow through with his promise. Tim laughed but promised.

Saturday 6:28pm

Not that Tim would tell Tam this but that little vacation was very much needed. Like he had forgotten how much fun he could have. All his life had been for the last few months was work and patrol.

So maybe Cass and Tam were right and maybe just maybe instead of using this Saturday as a day to sit in front of his computer all day to solve cold cases, he went to his favorite skate park.

He wanted to keep his promise after all. It's what heroes do.

So now maybe just maybe he was having a lot of fun.

And maybe feeling the wind brush through his hair and the familiar sounds of wheels on tarmac made him feel giddy and floaty. That type of giddiness that comes from just unbridled joy.

He was feeling more content than he had in the days since being back.

So then why was he looking at those cigarettes so intently.

He wasn't going to get them. It's silly.

Tim looked back at the pack behind the counter.

He shouldn't. It was a moment of weakness. A break in his indomitable resolve.

So it was just a one time thing.

Wasn't it?

He wouldn't…he'd never…he was…the boy wonder. Right?

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Fuck it.

Tim left that convenience store with a bag of chips and a pack of cigarettes.

Chapter Text

It had been three weeks since Tim's little 3 day weekend trip, in which Tim would say he found a little inner peace. One side of him screamed that he was starting down the path of nicotine addiction and was yelling statistics at him. While the other side told him that it wasn't that serious and he was totally in control.

Sure he felt a little guilty every time he held a cigarette in his fingers and a bit of shame when he saw Bruce or Alfred before or after patrol but Tim had always been good at throwing away emotions.

He was so sure every time they saw him they saw right through him. Not that he'd care if they knew. No not at all. It didn't matter. Sure Bruce would be mad, furious maybe and sit him down and give him the longest lecture ever and Damian would probably be in the back snickering at him and Dick would have that little downward tick in his mouth indicating he was disappointed. And then—Whatever.

Who cares.

It's not like Bruce and Dick were perfect angels. He knew for a fact that Dick had a huge rebellious phase and The Batman was literally born out of teenage angst so why did he have to be so perfect.

It was so annoying how much of a hypocrite those two were. Besides, Tim reasoned it didn't even matter that much. It was just a cigarette.

If it was just a cigarette why are you hiding out on your balcony?

It was 2 something in the morning. Tim had crashed in one of his safe houses in the diamond district. It wasn't a fancy place but it was decent. Tim hadn't felt like riding back to his apartment from the cave and if he was being honest patrol with Damian was one of the most irritating things he had to do.

So much so he was starting to get a headache. It was a dull one. Not too serious but there nonetheless. So once he had striped down from his suit he wordlessly stumbled toward his bedside table, grabbed the pack before climbing onto the balcony.

You know he didn't have to do this. He could have stayed at the manor as it had been sort of a routine to sit off after patrol. Before it was usually with Bruce or Dick or Steph, but times changed. Of course maybe from time to time one of them would have time (most times Steph) but having a daily routine go to a bi-monthly occurrence, hurts. So sue him if he wants to use this time to wallow or in most cases do something productive like a cold case or some WE work or lending a helping hand on someone else current case or—

Not tonight though. As of late he's reclaimed this time for himself.

It had been 3 days since he had been back and he was getting ready to settle down to begin cracking down on some case left untouched for the last 15 years but something caught his eye.

He gotten up and gone over and picked up the offending object.

It was his camera. He had gone searching for it as soon as he came back to his apartment. It had been thrown in some box that was in a pile of other boxes full of things he never unpacked when he removed them from his room. He just hadn't had the time too. Not because he knew it would hurt to see all the memories wrapped up in those boxes.

Later, he said.

Or maybe never.

He carried himself to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He had stared intently at the camera as if it could solve whatever problem in his head. By finding it and holding it, it must have answered some question in his head because he had placed it on the bedside table, gotten up and hadn't looked at it since.

Tim examined it in his hands. It still had the scruff marks and scratches in the right places and was still a familiar weight in his hands but Tim was scrutinizing it as if it could tell him…something. Whatever question burning in the back of his mind even though he didn't know what the question was. So he puzzled over the camera and before he knew it an hour had passed and he seriously needed to go to bed.

And so he did. And then the next night/early morning he did the same thing before finally building up the resolve to use it. He only took some pics from his rooftop but it was…nice. He enjoyed it a lot.

So instead of doing whatever work he would usually do Tim sat down with his camera, tweaked with the settings and took too many pictures from his rooftop and balcony. Eventually after 2 days of doing that he grew bored of the same view so he stopped. Just for now. He was too tired to venture out into Gotham after patrol so he decided that during his lunch break he would use it to take pictures.

And he did. It was fun. Left him with a smile on his face as he looked over the pictures he got of the skyline from Wayne Enterprise roof.

That night he didn't use the time to look at Gotham through a camera lens. Instead his camera laid forgotten beside him as stared at the architecture amidst the foggy horizon. So caught up in thought Tim didn't even realize he had grabbed that coat until he put his hands into its pockets and found his packet of cigarettes.

Not that he had lost it.

No no no. The packet was almost empty. He just didn't want to see the source of his shame right now.

Not that he should. It was only a handful of cigarettes. Hardly an addiction.

Tim flipped the box over in his hands for a minute before opening it and holding out a cigarette in front of his eyes.

How could something only this big cause him so much stress and contemplation.

He sighed.

He picked himself off the ground and reentered his bedroom. He bee lined for his dresser which on top held a lighter. One he had once used only to light up candles (and maybe commit various acts of arson—Steph knew not to snitch).

Exiting his room and now back onto his balcony Tim put his arms on the rails and looked over Gotham once again.

In his hand was a lighter and between his fingers a cigarette.

He looked down at the two.

God, what was he doing.

Nothing that mattered. Chill out. It's only a cigarette.

This time Tim didn't sigh or hesitate. He put the cig to his mouth and lit it.

This of course had a consequence.

And that's where Tim's at now. Almost every night before he goes bed. He sits off on his balcony and goes through a couple of smokes. Nothing too serious, just something to calm the nerves.

And tonight he knew that he very much needed one.

So here he was sitting here on the balcony, his legs swinging off the edge staring at the cityscape. It truly was beautiful at night.

He heavily exhaled and turned the box around in his fingers.

He was content to just run his hands over the pack while he tried not to think. But that wasn't enough, it wasn't one of those nights.

It hadn't been one of the those nights since he started.

Pulling his lighter out his pocket he fiddled with it almost putting it back in his pocket before finally lighting a cig and placing it in his mouth.

He couldn't be out for long. He had a new case, turns out Astor Inc. was more than just a little suspicious.

Tuesday 11:46am

Tim rubbed the space between his eyebrows in hopes it would stave off the impending headache. Morning meetings suck. Especially ones with a company he was sure had ties with the League of Assassins.

Yup. You heard that right. Astor Inc. has connections with the League. Honestly sometimes Tim wishes he wasn't right all the time but alas.

Ra's is using Astor Inc. as a way back into Gotham after he ran him out last year. This big project of theirs seems to be the Leagues way to bring in their big bad plan of the year to destroy Batman and for Ra's to get back at Tim.

Now what Tim would like to do is systematically destroy Astor Inc. from both inside and out but he's pretty sure that won't keep Ra's out for long and that would do more harm than good. One because he's feels like he's only scratched the surface on Ra's connections of the businesses in Gotham and he's also pretty sure the people in charge don't even know the full extent on who they got involved with. They just took the Leagues out stretched hand to save them from near bankruptcy. He'd almost feel bad for them if this whole debacle wasn't costing him the last strains of his sanity.

So what he has to do because it's the right thing is dig up more to deal a big blow on Ra's so he can finally learn his lesson (which he doubts will be anytime soon).

Which is where that project comes in. That project, Tim's sure will allow him to get a peak at all of Ra's Gotham operatives.

How, you may ask.

Because of next week Thursday.

On that Thursday is supposed to be meet between a few of the projects collaboratives. Who are obviously working with the League. And if Tim can get just a peak of a few involved, he doesn't doubt his ability to unravel this network Ra's had built.

Also that Thursday is a trap. Yes, it going to have the info he needs but its so clearly a trap. Ra's wants him there. Not to kill him, but to set up a new game. He's setting out the pieces, taunting Tim, tempting him, inviting him to play.

And who was he to turn down a game?

Besides he has always been too curious for his own good.

His jacket pocket seemed a little bit more heavier at that.

1:13pm

Tim was on his lunch break right now. He decided that he wasn't going to leave his office. He wanted to be alone. He needed to plan.

He was tapping a finger on his desk while his brain ran over contingencies before he relented.

His hand dipped into his jacket pocket and he pulled out the packet. He didn't smoke during work hours. Not really. He was sure it was against some company policy but nobody had caught him save for Tam.

Tim had been in his office when she caught him.

He had been tired, bored and a little moody that afternoon. He was sure everyone noticed. Honestly it had been so crazy that the moment he stepped foot into Gotham, like all that energy he had from the trip had been siphoned. But that's a topic for a different day.

So Tim had been in his office, head swarming with half baked ideas until a particularly stupid idea shoved its way to the front of Tim's mind.

The idea that he needed a little smoke to settle him and help him get through the day. And despite his efforts to stomp out this thought, it persisted.

You don't even have to worry. Nobody comes in your room without prior notice plus an appointment. You'll be fine. It's just a little cigarette.

But…

Just do it. Your not hurting anyone.

And so against all his better judgment he lit one and was about half way through it, looking over some documents when his door burst opened.

He must have looked like a deer in headlights because he froze.

And so did Tam.

She was looking at him like she puzzling together something.

His brain finally caught up to his body because he was quick to put it out on the ashtray (that had always been decorative).

Tam was knocked out of her stupor and walked over to his desk and placed down some documents.

"These are the docs you requested for the Astor collab," she didn't meet his eyes, "Just thought you'd want them a little earlier."

"Yeah, thanks Tam."

"Your welcome."

Suddenly the wall behind her was very interesting. Tim licked his lips and opened his mouth once and then again but he didn't really know what to say.

He cleared his throat.

"Uh, Tam I—uh—I don't really—," he began.

"Just don't do anything stupid," she cut him off.

Tim's mouth clicked shut. He focused on Tam's face. She looked resolute.

"Listen I know you are facing a lot of stress and all that but don't do stupid things."

" I—"

"I can understand why your doing this, but don't you dare get caught up."

"Tam I wouldn't—"

"No Timothy Drake, what you're doing is stupid and you know it. But I will be there for you so don't you dare think about pushing me away—"

"I wouldn't ever—"

"Yes you would because you think I'm mad at you, and sometimes i am but never enough to get rid of you," she persisted, "because believe it or not Tim you got people who care about you! "

Tim sighed, "Yeah, I know that."

"Then act like it."

And instead of storming off in Tam fashion she leaned over the desk and pulled him into a hug. It was an awkward position but it was appreciated. A lot.

"Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you, you know."

"Probably die," she let go with a little smile on her face.

Tim returned it.

She gave him a look and said, "You know who you are, and I know you won't do anything too dumb."

But did Tim really know who he was? He was pretty sure a couple of months ago. Now? Not so much.

She turned and left at that. Leaving Tim not knowing what to feel.

Despite the heavy topic they didn't talk about it again.

And after that he resolved to smoking in the little break room by his office. Roof top had too many cameras and the ones in that room were easy to dismiss plus nobody was coming in here without him knowing. He didn't want to face Tam again if he was caught. It was technically his personal little room since no one else went into it, Tim was sure most people didn't even know it existed. So a safe space.

But Tim didn't want to make it a habit of smoking at WE. He had an image to uphold. So this was only a one time thing, he told himself. Then the next day he went into that little room during his lunch. Again. And then again.

And now here he was walking to the little break room yet again.

He pushed open the door and let it close behind him before sitting down on one of the chairs. The sigh he left out, he was sure he felt in his bones.

Tim didn't have a lunch beside a sad sandwich and some cookies he bought at a cafe down the street yesterday.

He didn't feel like eating. He wasn't very hungry. He was brainstorming. But he did nibble on the sandwich and ate one of the cookies. The cookies could be better, but he was spoiled, having to have eaten Alfred's cookies. It made him a little picky when it came to his biscuits.

The thought of Alfred's cooking made him smile, he hadn't gone over for dinner since he's been back and he should. Alfred probably misses him. Maybe Bruce too. Maybe.

He wished that train of thought away. He needed to focus. He needed to plan out how he was going to confront this trap.

His fingers tapped on the table. Repeatedly. Only the dull taps countered the silence.

His unoccupied hand found itself reaching for his pocket. He caught himself before it could pull out the object that inspired this change of rooms.

He needed to focus. Not be distracted by trivial things.

But isn't that the reason you came in here?

Yes but—

Then just do it. You might as well.

But—

Please. You already made your decision when you came into this room. Do it

…Right.

The cigarette was between his lips and lit.

He inhaled and exhaled. Smoke was curling around him now, climbing toward the ceiling.

He tilted his head back to watch it float up.

His thoughts circled back to his plan.

He wasn't sure he would be able to counter the trap right now. No. By crashing it he could risk losing precious info. He needed to see how Ra's was going to play this time. So he needed to see how he was going to play his first hand. It would be vital in uncovering his strategy this time.

So he needed to go along with it. He had no doubt that Ra’s likely knew he knew he was aware it was a trap. He was waiting to see how he would react. How Tim would lay out the board. How difficult it would be to get him to join the game.

And because Tim didn't want any unnecessary casualties, he was going with what Ra's set up. He needed to know.

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.

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Curiosity is a curse.

Ignorance is bliss.

And knowledge is power.

Sometimes he likes to think what would he have become if he never became Robin. If he was ignorant and less curious. And he didn't get his little hands on that information and used it to get that position.

He only thought about it rarely. Well, he used to. Now he does quite often. Not that often. But way more often than he'd like.

Sometimes he wondered, what of he didn't have that thirst for knowledge. Maybe he would have lived a pretty normal life. He would have still been in the business world but he would have to have done some college to get some degree in business or something. His mother would have wanted that.

She liked institutions. And schools. She liked to read a lot. She couldn't do it often. She was stuck reading boring work related stuff.

He could relate. He wanted to…to do those things he promised he would do once back here.

I guess he was his mother's son in more ways than one. A shame really. She was unhappy. And so is he.

He frowned.

How did he get to thinking about his mother. He was supposed to be working on what to do on Thursday.

It was quite obvious. Nothing. He could do nothing. He had no other information. He was at the disadvantage right now.

But maybe he could think himself a way out of this. He's done feats like this before. With odds stacked against him, no backup and an even smaller chance of survival. This should be no different. It's what being a hero is all about. And if Tim was being honest. The chase, the thrill, the stakes it was all so addicting.

And Tim did have a history of addiction in his family.

He looked at the cigarette in his fingers. It was done now. He pulled out another. And frowned at he lit it and took a drag.

He held it between his fingers and rested his head on his opposing hand. He marveled at the thing. Twisting his hand to see it from different angles as if it would reveal some secret. Some hidden information he didn't know before but needed to know.

To think this little stick caus—

Tim blinks.

Huh.

"Tim, what the fuck are ya doing."

The door had been opened. And in it stood Jason.

"Tim, what the fuck?"

His brain seemed to have finally caught up and he rushed to put out the cig in the ashtray.

Jason's here. Jason is here. Jason is here. Jason is in my break room with me. And he just saw me smoking. I'm so cooked. So fucking fried. Jason's here—Wait a minute. Why is Jason here?

"What are doing here?" he asked coldly. Sue him, he closed up when he panicked.

"I asked first, what are you doing?" he threw out like an accusation.

"And I asked second."

Tim was rewarded with an unimpressed look.

"I'm on my lunch break."

"Yes, I can fucking see that," he crossed his arms, "Why are you of all people smoking?"

"I—"

Tim cut himself off. He didn't have an answer for that.

"I would have never put you as one to smoke. Too goody two shoes or as much goody two shoes you can get."

His face soured.

"What do you want, Jason." His tone was clipped. He almost smiled from how he was able to pull himself together

"I need info on the White case."

Tim raised a contemplative eyebrow, "And you couldn't have texted about this."

"I was in the area and thought I dropped by plus I don't have your number."

It was a silly excuse. Jason could have easily gone to Babs and gotten his contact info from her, probably free of charge too.

"Fucking dinosaur," he muttered just loud enough from Jason to hear. Which he did if the annoyed look on his face meant anything.

"Whatever Timbo, you got it or not."

He sighed before taking out his phone and pulling up the files.

"You want the Devon stuff too?"

A nod and he forwarded the encrypted files to Jason.

"Ok, it's sorted. Bye."

A look passed over Jason's face which only could mean one thing, he was about to say some bullshit.

"The old man knows you smoke?"

"I don't smoke."

"Uh huh, right and I'm the queen of England. "

A beat passes. Tim doesn't try to fill the silence. He doesn't really know what he's doing right now. Just winging it if he's being honest. A strategy his mother would berate him for.

"Listen I know we ain't that close or whatever but you can tell me whatever eating you," Jason began.

Oh so he wants to start emotional bullshit. Yeah nope. He's not dealing with this crap.

"Nothing's wrong." Tim gritted out.

He did not have the time nor the energy to have whatever painful talk this is.

"If you don't mind I have a company to run. Goodbye Jason."

"I'm just saying this is kinda out of character for you, so something gotta be…" he trailed off at the look on Tim's face. Not because of fear but out of confusion. He really had no idea why he thought it was a good idea for him of all people to say something.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you don't know me that well," Tim rolled his eyes. He and Jason weren't particularly close. What did he know?

"I'm just saying Tim—"

Tim cut him off by abruptly standing up from his chair.

He didn't need nor want to have this conversation right now. Like Jason had any right to judge, he scoffed.

"Good. Bye. Jason." He punctuated each word with a finger stabbing in Jason's chest.

He scowls, "Whatever," he spun on his heel heading for the door before looking back, " You're so fucking miserable sometimes."

Whatever.

…..

He had shit to do. Real work, not worrying over whatever fit Jason wanted to throw.

Tim shrugged off his coat. He was quick to undress after work now. He smelled to much like his father for his liking. Like stale office air mixed with his cologne and tobacco. He didn't wear that particular cologne, it was too strong for his taste but it was like his nose filled in the space with the memory of the scent.

It was bitter from what he remembers. Tim didn't like it when he was young but still welcomed the hugs his father would greet him with at the door. The smell turned into something comforting, something familiar.

Now it wasn't comforting, instead a bit suffocating.

He slumped down on his couch.

He held his head in his hands, letting out a few quiet breaths.

It's OK. It's fine. Everything is fine. It's fine.

You're so fucking miserable sometimes.

The words had rung in his head for more than he'd like to admit. He would mull over them but he didn't have the time to deal with that.

He didn't have time to dwell on the emotions threatening to escape his chest. He needed to get to work. He couldn't afford to break apart right now. He had work to do. He had work to do.

I have work to do.

Timothy Drake picked himself off his couch. And wiped the wetness from his eyes. He had a board meeting in the morning and he had a mission to plan for.

Timothy Drake, son of Janet and Jack Drake left those unwarranted emotions behind and got to work.

That Thursday, 2:38am

The wind rushed past Red Robin's face as he swung from building to building. He was almost at the place. It wasn't far from his patrol route which made him frown. That was definitely on purpose.

Perched on an gargoyle on a building far enough to be safe but close enough to observe, Red Robin watched. Something he was all to familiar with.

He didn't need to watch long, he got what he needed. Confirmation that his assumption was right. If he wasn't sure then that the league was in Gotham he was now because guarding the building, an old office building, in the standard league formation were league assassins. It was a curse being this right all the time, really.

Anyway, judging by their garbs they were base level assassins. Ones that Ra's wouldn't use as his guards so he wasn't Gotham, just his operatives then. (Not like he wanted to see that ugly mug anyway). He likely wanted to lure Tim out of Gotham to play his game.

Sigh.

This made one thing clear. This was gonna get a whole lot more complicated. But right now he needn't worry too much about that—no he needed to focus on the task at hand and then plan that worthless piece of fucking trash demise.

And let out some pent up anger on these guards. He needed it.

There were 6—no 7 guards on the outside perimeter. He would be foolish to think there wasn't anymore inside but he wouldn't have to worry about them. The outside stationed guards, following league protocol would send signals confirming status every 4 and a half minutes to indoor stationed guards. It was lax security for Ra's but appreciated since it made his work easier.

He slinked over the rooftops until he was above two of them and using a move he learned from Cass, a nerve strike, to knock them both out before they had time to alert the others. He had waited until just after they sent the signal to take them out. He had 4 minutes, 19 seconds left to get inside. More than enough.

And like he predicted the next 3 were quickly taken care of but the last two had caught on which cost him some time but nonetheless he entered the building through the second floor with ease.

He didn't want to fight any of the indoor stationed guards yet—no he needed a few minutes to observe the meeting taking place and maybe steal some intel.

Sinking deep within the shadows he crept along the hallways, judging from the blueprints they were likely on either the third or fourth floor. There would be a fair amount of assassins on the third floor but nothing he couldn't handle.

Using the age old Robin rule of sticking to the vents, he climbed into the one above a termite ridden desk, surrounded by that infamous Gotham mold. (It had it's own sub reddits dedicated to it).

The vents were a bit smaller than usual (yes he had been in enough vents in Gotham to compare—perks of being a teenage crime fighter) and he shuffled about until he was in what he was sure the third floor. Peering into a hallway finding it empty he decided to go the rest on foot. It was getting a little cramped in there.

He kept close to the nooks and crevices and was mostly unspotted save for a close call that resulted in a few unconscious assassins shoved into janitorial closets.

This mission was going suspiciously smooth for one related to the L.O.A. as they never are this straight forward. It was putting him on edge.

After checking the coast, Red Robin slipped down hallway to what he knew would be where all the operatives would be in the midst of their meeting.

It was a non-descript boarding room. Identical to the dozen he saw on the schematics. Making sneaking in easy. There wouldn't be any of the assassins he faced in the room, Ra's was quit strict on information distribution. They were too low on the League food chain, maybe after a few successful missions they could climb up—

He's getting sidetracked. This is not the time to be debating League ranks.

There wouldn't be any common rank assassins in there, and there wouldn't be any upper rank assassins in there—the assassins in there would be in that weird place in between ranks, not as high as those Ra's acknowledges but lower than instructors.

So not to hard of a fight if it came down to it. Key word: If.

He had no intention of getting into a fight. This missions objective was to get into this room, get the names of some of the key players in Ra's newest plot and get the heck out of dodge.

"Heck out of dodge??"

Ugh. Kon needs to stop watching those westerns. It's influencing him in the worst way. Blegh

The schematics shown there was a perfect perch, just above the light fixtures. The lights weren't being used since the electricity in this place was a bust and even then Ra's would have wanted it dark to up the scare factor just to keep his "work partners" on their toes.

Red Robin looked around for the opening to the—Aha!

Found it.

A opening to the roof cavity where he can safely observe the meeting. Scaling the wall and moving the ceiling panel to shimmy in was practiced move (again perks of being a teenage vigilante).

As he crept closer to what he knew was over the boarding room he heard voices. A panicked voice—one fueled with a type of desperation only Gotham was capable of doing.

His focus narrowed onto it and made sure he was recording this.

"…I just don't think that's possible I—"

It was male voice, young sounding.

He was cut off abruptly, not knowing why made Red Robin want a visual. A hole in the ceiling provided him one. Peaking an eye in he could see the man who had been talking, Eric Baldwin, his mind supplied. The heir to a depleting fortune and failing company. In about 2 years time, if he continued his current financial decisions he would be about upper middle class at best, a disgrace to the elite. And because of that he had slowly become a social outcast. Red could recall the last social event he had been invited to was late last year.

Makes sense he would make a deal with the League, their company in it's prime (which was when his grandmother was in charge of it 15 years ago) had connections anyone in the business world would want their grubby hands on and Eric was spoiled enough to never even dream of a life without his silver spoon in his mouth.

He had been cut of by a man sitting at the head of the table. He was definably League affiliated—the way he held himself spoke of precision and grace.

He began to speak, his voice strangely melodic, "You will find a way or would you risk disappointing my master."

He sounded amused at Eric's panic and Red found himself feeling a little bad for Eric even though he had been a bit of jerk during the gala's they had shared.

The man tilted his head in question and Eric went statue-like in his chair. Poor sod had no idea what he got himself in.

The man took some sick pleasure in Eric's response and turned his attention to the woman next to Eric who took it as initiative to explain her plan of contribution to the Astor Project. She was not someone he recognized—maybe new money or a nobody who climbed to corporate ranks and somehow ended the CFO of Charter Tech, one of the steel industrial plants in Gotham

The person across from her was someone he recognized, Teresa Galdin. Now she was a piece of work and to be honest he wasn't all that surprised she got caught up in this mess. Not that she needed the financial support like Eric—she had money. It was likely blackmail keeping her here. Which would explain her downright murderous glare directed at the head of the table.

He showed no care for it though. He was to engrossed in the files that the woman had slid over to him as she explained their process of smuggling weapons. High grade military weapons.

This just got even more complicated.

"I see we have at least someone competent in this room," the man smiled.

He focused particularly on Eric at that.

The head of the table turned to the next man who began sputtering excuses since he had come empty handed.

Red began to mentally note the rest people in attendance and note their possible contributions to this project.

Shannon Debussy; the recently hired security specialist for the mayor.

Lionel Mitchell; the owner of many of the high class pubs that only catered to the elite, he's likely has the favor of many and heard to many secrets for his own good.

Marshall Johnson; COO of Astwood, insurance company that had many, many concerning customers over the years that Bruce had them flagged.

Tina Morgan; Daughter of the tycoon, Ricardo Morgan who in charge of many urban properties in downtown and midtown Gotham.

Christina Marlowe; someone who had recently entered Gotham's political setting and gained a mass a supporters.

Andrew Drag—

He was knocked out his musing when an assassin materialized out of the shadows, leaned down and whispered something in the man's ear. A knot settled in Red Robin's gut, he had a feeling that this wasn't something he needed to stick around for. He had more than enough data on Ra's newest plan to take over Gotham.

He had begun to ease himself out of his position and move back to where he entered from before the man's voice reverberated through the room.

"Oh my, where are my manners, it seems my guest has arrived," he spoke, "Red Robin would you please remove yourself from your perch."

Oh Fuck.

He could—no he should make a break for it but the bullet that tore through the ceiling dangerously close to his abdomen gave him the impression they really wanted to talk.

Red Robin kicked in a loose panel in the ceiling, landing onto the table in the middle of the room startling a few screams out of the civilians seated at the table.

"Ah yes, the infamous Red Robin of Gotham," the man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was predatory, one that made his skin crawl.

Red Robin didn't respond only stared impassively. That seemed to tick him off. Good.

A frown formed on the man's face and with a flick of his wrist everyone left the room save for the league officer standing by his side.

Silence filled the room as they assessed one another. It was broken when the man opened his mouth to speak.

"My master had been expecting you," he paused giving Red Robin an incredulous look. "He has a gift he wants to give you."

"Sorry but I don't take gifts from creepy old men, you know stranger danger and all that," He snarked.

That seemed to really tick him off.

The man snarled, "You be grateful my master has deemed you worthy enough for his attention."

Behind his mask Red Robin rolled his eyes, honestly for an assassin he was glaringly obvious to read.

He was jealous.

The man was trying to figure out what made him, just another Gotham vigilante stand out to his boss. He was trying to see what made him so special, likely because he wanted whatever made Ra's take a moment to look at him. Noticing jealousy was a trick one learns from mingling with the elite. You learn to see past kind words and soft eyes.

He probably thought recognition for Ra's al Ghul was the greatest honor and not a pain in the neck at best and at worst a death sentence.

Abruptly the man stood from his chair, shot him another withering glare that had nothing on Batman’s glare and stalked out the room.

Red Robin took this as a signal to follow him, even though he was just talking about stranger danger.

Internally he sighed. He should walk away but this whole debacle would just find its way back to him at an even more inconvenient time and he'd rather get this over with in one go, he cleared out his schedule for this.

The man(he really should have asked for it—sue him he's used to villains giving their names in their big monologues) led him down the hall and down the stairs to the bottom floor in what was the lobby.

The man faced him with a look Red knew well, contempt.

"I do not know you and you do not know me and I have no intentions in learning anything more about you," His melodic voice now harsh continued, "I don't know what you've done to make my master so intrigued but whatever entertainment you may have given my master is one he doesn't need. He has no use for little distractions like you making a muck in the grand scheme of things. You're nothing but a drop of water in the ocean that is my master's empire."

And there's the monologue, Red thought to himself.

He shot a contemptuous look that Red Robin couldn't help find similar to the looks he'd receive at Wayne Enterprises—nepotism will do that.

"Good to know the feeling mutual," Red Robin taunted, "Frankly I don't make habit of getting to know Ra's footmen."

The man flared up at that—looks like he hit a nerve.

He opened his mouth likely to retort but the officer at his side leaned in a whispered something in his ear—something bad if the way the man smiled meant anything.

"I needn't waste my time with someone as the likes of you nor does my master," He paused considering Red Robin, "but he has deemed you worthy of his grace—

"If you're going to go on another tangent on how I'm not worthy to lick his robes I'm going to puke," Red Robin deadpanned.

The man let out a breath, "My master deemed you worthy of grace peasant—

No wonder Damian acts the way he does, he grew up with these lunatics.

—he has ordered your attendance at the building on XXXX street, Old Gotham in two days time."

Record scratch.

"His gift is him ordering me around to go to some sketchy place?" Red Robin asked ludicrously.

The man spluttered," Of course it is a gift, to be ordered by master is the greatest gift one could ever be given."

…O…kay….

Sometimes Red Robin forgets that the League of Assassins is a cult.

"And no one is more worthy than I to receive that gift which is why you must be eliminated, " the man spat. "No one is more worthy than I, " he repeated with a level of gravity one would only hear when stating an absolute truth.

So this guy was just fucking crazy.

Assassins then poured out of the shadows. Twenty—thirty assassins.

Not that Red Robin was surprised—he knew this whole set up was a trap. He was just expecting for Ra's to have orchestrated the trap. Not one of his desperate brainwashed flunkies.

The man longed disappeared into the shadows and the assassins began to surround him. They were common rank assassins so it wouldn't be to tough of a fight maybe a few scratches if he played his cards right only because of the multitude of them but—

The window shattered spraying glass into the room. Two figures rose from the wreckage. Two figures who had no business being here.

Robin and Spoiler.

"Heard you were in a bit of a pickle here, Red," Spoiler laughed as she punched an charging assassin square in the face.

"Only you are able to get yourself in situations like these," Robin grunted landing a hit at someone's solar plexus.

Red didn't respond focused on dodging the sword of an assassin and sweeping her feet from underneath her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked a tinge of annoyance coloring his tone.

Spoiler squawked, "Helping your sorry ass, what else?"

"I had this handled, you two should be working on that recon mission you had." Red Robin argued.

Spoiler dodged a hit, grabbing her opponent's arm and momentum to flip them over, slamming them into the floor. Red heard something crack. Ye-ouch.

"The mission was a dud and besides you can't fight L.O.A assassin's by yourself, just ain't safe."

"Speak for yourself," Robin chimed in.

Spoiler rolled her eyes, "Alright buddy."

"Is that a challenge, Spoiler because I'll have you know I was trained from birth to be a living weapon—"

"—to be a living weapon."

"Yeah I know, you've only said about a million times."

"Are you mocking me because I'll have you know the penalty for that is death, " Robin declared turning to face Spoiler.

One of the assassins which had been injured by Robin, lying on the ground had seen the opportunity of Robin's back turned to him and pounced.

"Oh buzz off edgelor—"

"ROBIN DODGE!" Red Robin yelled.

Robin was pushed out of the way as Red Robin sent a blow to the assassin with his bo staff sending his opponent careening away from Robin.

The assassins face now bloodied sent a vicious snarl as they let loose a bloodthirsty array of attacks.

The assassin was using less of league techniques, and more of ones you would see in a brawler. Not that Red couldn't handle that—its just that the switch from the predictable league moves to more savage and disorganized ones put him on edge. Desperation and chaos created a nasty soup to deal with in, well any situation actually. Unpredictability made someone liability.

A jab to his opponents face and—

Pain shot through his abdomen and the assassin stared at him with a triumphant look as they grappled with each other. Red Robin managed to hook a leg around the assassins leg sending them toppling over.

A well aimed elbow to the head left the assassin listless, the dagger in their hand falling from their grasp.

His ears were ringing and his vision was swaying.

He was on the floor now…when did that…did he hit his head?

Spoiler's voice over comms cut through the ringing and flooded his senses.

"—a laceration to his lower abdominal area, partial thickness—"

He groaned and muttered a curse under his breath. Oh right. This. Honestly this night was just going great.

Red Robin opened his eyes, he didn't realized he'd closed to Spoiler leaning over him placing pressure on his wound and Robin standing behind her, arms crossed.

"That was dumb," the brat deigned.

Red Robin let out another groan and propped himself against a desk to sit up right.

"Like I need to hear anything from you, brat," he hissed.

This night was really turning to shit. He wanted his bed, like now.

"I'm heading back to my nest."

"Like hell you are," Spoiler scoffed, "You need medical assistance like ASAP."

"I have medical stuff back at the nest," Red reasoned through his growing headache.

Robin snapped, "As if the "stuff" you have back could compare to the facilities in the Cave. Don't be an even bigger idiot than you already are and let Agent A tend to your wounds."

And of course, Oracle voiced over comms, "He's got a point there, Red."

Red Robin pushed away from Spoiler and used the reception desk he was leaning against to pull himself to his feet.

"I've handled injuries worse than this by myself before," He objected.

Then becuase the universe hates him, Batman’s voice commanded over the comms, "Red Robin, Cave now."

"I'm—"

"I said Cave now."

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The ride to the cave was silent, even Spoiler didn't try fill the silence with her insistent chatter.

The pain in his abdomen was stinging but served as a way to keep himself present. Focusing on the pain was better than debating on what Batman was gonna say.

His bike pulled into the Cave, Robin who had been ahead of him was already dismounting his bike and stalking off. Before he could get to far Nightwing grabbed him by the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He scowled and shot a glare back at Red Robin.

Spoiler pulled in behind him, easily dismounted her bike but she didn't walk off instead she came to Red Robin's side, eyeing him warily as he dismounted his own bike careful enough to not pull the emergency dressing of his wound. A hiss of pain still escaped his mouth and Spoiler's arms were supporting him before he could assure her he was fine.

The look of panic in her eyes were enough to kill any rebuttal to the help.

Fine. He would let her have this.

As they hobbled over to the med-bay Batman was as usual at the Bat computer and Nightwing was right behind him with his unmasked eyes drawn in worry as he assessed Red Robin's condition.

They didn't say anything as he passed. They were going to wait until he was patched up to talk to him—at least they were being patient this time. Only because it was a league inflicted injury. Those weren't taken lightly since Ra's had a nasty habit of using poisoned weapons. But it wasn't like Ra's was even there and Red Robin doubted that crazy simp for Ra's guy had enough brain power to employ poisoned daggers, not like it would matter. Red Robin had a strong resistance to League standard issued poisons due to his situation with Ra's last year.

Ra's had a habit of lacing his food with said poisons—he said it was mithridatism, Tim called it sadism. Made so many of his meals were inedible—not cause of the poison but because of the taste. Some poison were meant to be put on the blade of a knife, not in rice.

Alfred greeted him in the med-bay with a worried frown. He gave a sheepish smile as Spoiler deposited him on the cot. Mask remover solution was tossed at the empty space next to him in the cot.

"He hit his head hard, prolly has a concussion," Spoiler explained to Alfred who let out a soft hum of acknowledgement as he busied himself with cleaning his cut.

"I don't have a concussion." Red Robin grumbled.

A look of annoyance passed over Stephanie's now bare face.

"Just take off ya damn mask."

He let out a sigh with no real annoyance behind it and removed his mask. Stephanie stalked off, knowing he was in good hands and likely went to the showers to wash off the Gotham gunk that always clung to the skin of it's vigilantes.

It was quiet now. It put him on edge because now he could practically taste the tension in the air. Rather than focusing on that he focused on writing his report of this whole debacle and on his breathing as Alfred's needle went in and out of his skin.

Discreetly he reached for the antibiotics—he knew Alfred saw and was purposefully turning a blind eye like he had been for the last time and the last time—

Anyway for that he was grateful, he didn't feel like answering to an interrogation about that incident right now.

He was also lucky Bruce was waiting until after he was patched up to chew him out, but he still had to face the music sooner than later because since he was in such capable hands he was done in no time.

A forlorn look crossed Tim's face in which Alfred responded with a quiet, 'chin up chap'. As if he could put his chin up in a situation like this—he was tired, bleeding, mildly irritated and had a headache. If Alfred had any mercy left in his heart he would tell Bruce to save the talk for tomorrow morning but instead as soon as he led Tim out of the med-bay said, "Master Tim was fortunate enough to not have any sort of concussion, just a mild bump on the head."

"No poison either," Dick relayed, his eyes still assessing Tim.

Alfred then turned on his heel as made his way to Wayne Manor with Tim silently cursing him for his cruelty.

And Bruce ever the opportunist, having heard his clear bill of health jumped right into the interrogation.

"What were you thinking fighting LOA assassins by yourself. If Oracle hadn't detected their presence, do you any type of idea how severe the injuries you could have sustained?"Bruc—Batman demanded.

Tim opened his mouth to retort but Batman bulldozed right over him.

"Why would you engage in battle with LOA assassins and not alert us?"

Maybe it was because he had hit his head but despite the harsh reprimanding Tim felt a laugh bubble up in his throat. He couldn't believe this. Had Bruce even watched the cowl footage or listened to any of their reports. He had submitted his while Alfred was stitching him up.

"I'm sorry but did you even read to reports because I had everything handled before you guys came in and messed up my plan," he exploded, " Besides it wasn't like I was fighting Ra's himself, it was a bunch of low league officials, basically glorified thugs able to throw a decent punch armed with daggers and swords."

B seemed a little taken aback by his response with the way his eyes narrowed and his mouth opening slightly before shutting close.

Dick chose this moment to stop being a spectator and join the 'discussion'. He gestured to Tim's wound, "You call that handled?" He asked an eyebrow raised like Bruce.

Tim could feel his face heating up.

"I call this saving your kid," gesturing to wound, "I had it handled before you guys barged in on my case and created this whole mess!" he heaved, "Maybe instead of getting on my case teach Robin to stop getting distracted on the field so I won't have to risk the mission to save him!"

"I didn't ask you to take that hit for me," Damian barged in, "As if I wanted to be there in the first place. Next time I have to watch you blunder around I'll trust in my own counsel and watch you fail miserably from the sidelines—"

"Damian—"

"—since it would not be hard to fight those 'glorified thugs', " he sneered. He said those last two words with indignation coloring his tone.

He opened his mouth the continue but Dick cut him off.

"Damian, not now. " He reprimanded.

He looked visibly offended at Dick's words and had a ready retort on his lips.

"This is between Red Robin and us. We'll talk tomorrow, " Dick iterated with a stoic Batman behind him seated at the Bat computer. It made a muscle in his jaw twitch. Typical of B to hide behind Dick when it comes to his kids.

The clear dismissal irritated Damian if the glare on his face was any indication—but he always had a scowl on his face like Bruce. The kid had yet to move and Dick was also getting visibly annoyed.

"Damian, upstairs."

"But he sai—"

"Now."

"My Grandf—"

"Damian!"

He let out tut, turned on his heel and marched up to the Manor. Not once did he look back.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose like Bruce does. He let out a put upon sigh before looking at Tim with eyes that looked achingly tired—it wasn't a look Tim was unfamiliar with. He sees in the mirror most days and he sees it in his fellow heroes and vigilantes but there was a certain weight to his stare that uneased him. It wasn't something he could put a name to but it wasn't something he liked.

"You're acting as if the League doesn't produce some of the most dangerous fighters in the world—those 'glorified thugs' are not people to be taken lightly." Dick explained.

Batman eager to jump onto the hating on Tim bandwagon joined in. "You're not telling the truth. There's more to this."

That was totally true bullshit.

"You read my report. I told you everything I know."

"I don't think you are." He said it with the kind of finality that the Batman always had when it came to issuing orders. It was commendable at times but right now annoying as hell.

Tim scoffed, his irritation clearly showing, "Really?"

He knew better than to challenge the Batman but, hey he had been the Boy Wonder. He was basically trained to push Batman's buttons.

"Well then what the hell do you want me to tell you—that I know the exact reason why Ra's lackeys are in Gotham cause news flash I don't." He does though, not that he's gonna tell Bruce—Ra's was clear that this was between them.

Whatever thing he had planned was for him and if Bruce or the others got involved—well it wasn't going to be pretty. And besides Tim had a plan to handle all this, or well an idea on how he was going to deal with this and under no circumstances was any of the others to be there. They needed to be out of the way and safe or as safe being in Gotham could be.

Batman began, his tone bordering on irritable, "No but you know something—you didn't stumble upon that building filled with League assassins—"

"Well I did. Why is that such a surprise, it was barely a block off my usual route," he said with a condescending tone.

Not many people can say they were condescending to Batman’s face.

"So you just decided on a whim to get check out that building."

"Call it a sixth sense," Tim replied.

Batman’s eyes narrowed. He knew he couldn't call Tim out, he would be a hypocrite to do so with how many times he just had a feeling to investigate this or that but guess he doesn't like it being used against him.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why not notify us of the League's presence?" He questioned, his voice curt.

"I was managing it fine on my own and would have told you after I was able to because if you read my report you would know I was dark while I was doing recon in that building," he folded his arms across his chest and regretted it as it sent a twinge of pain throughout his chest.

It wasn't his best excuse but he wasn't going to back out now. He was gonna find a way to tear Bruce a new one and—

"Your spleen."

"What?" Tim said a little thrown off in the change of topic.

"Your spleen," Batman said again as if that made any sense, even Dick beside him was confused.

"What about it?" He asked defensively.

"I don't know? Maybe where is it?"

Ok. So here's the thing Tim had never really told anyone outright he didn't have a spleen anymore, he had been meaning to get around to it and he was like 60% sure he told Cass—maybe, his memories were spotty that night. But he had told someone and he had his medical file updated so it wasn't like it was hidden information. B or Dick could have totally known so technically he was in clear. Maybe.

"I know where it is," he supplied, his lips pursed.

"I'm sorry but what are we talking about?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't give an answer and Batman seemed to have been waiting for a response from him but Tim wasn't one to give in.

Neither was Batman. But Dick's irritation wavered B's stance.

"Red Robin doesn't have his spleen. His medical records indicate an emergency splenectomy sometime last year—specifically during the period where Red Robin went dark for about a year."

A beat passed as Dick mulled over the words, worry etching on his face as his eyes flicked over his abdomen.

"I'm sorry but what the fuck Tim?!"

Against his will he averted his eyes—it was an admission of guilt when he wasn't in the wrong—that much (but cmon he updated his file and he lowkey forgot to tell them—oops?)

"Why—Whe—How did you lose your spleen?" Dick asked, concern coating his tone.

"There was an incident where I got stabbed and my spleen couldn't be salvaged…" Tim explained, trailing off at the end when he caught Dick's eye. He looked NOT happy right now.

"Tim…," he started off.

Not a good start. He was probably gonna pull some emotional bullshit.

"No—Dick we don't need to talk about this right now. That happened over a year ago and it wasn't like it was some big secret. Shit happened and I got fucked up and whatever but I know how to deal with it so it's—it's whatever. It's over. Alright."

"But it isn't," Batman spoke with conviction, " Do you know the complications that you could face if you were severely injured didn't take in account that you are immunocompromised. You could get sepsis."

Tim scoffed, as if he didn't know that which he voiced to Batman. They both didn't seem to like his response.

"What about tonight—Huh Tim," Dick asked. "What if you got hit by one of Ra's poisons. What could have happened then. Your body is more exposed and susceptible to the effects now. "

"I've already experienced most of the League's commonly used poisons in this state and built up a tolerance."

Dick blinks. Batman stiffens.

"You what!?" Dick rushed out, the words leaving along with his breath—he looked a little red in the face.

Internally he cursed himself, that was something that he could have brought to them at a different time or maybe never.

Batman's glare hardened. "That incident where you lost your spleen would have happened around the time you was interacting with the League."

Tim could see as they began to piece together the puzzle pieces.

"You said you got stabbed," Dick added. His eyes were now racking across his face rather than his torso looking for an ounce of insincerity. He wouldn't find any, just discomfort. Discomfort in the place that he called his home.

"You got attacked by League assassins?" He asked.

It wasn't a lie to say yes. He did get attacked by assassins sent by the League. Pru, Z and Owens. But that had been months before he had been attacked by the Widower. So he could say yes, that he did get attacked by League assassins and not have to mention the whole dismantling a group of assassins set on hunting and killing other assassins for sport as an order for Ra's since he was under his thumb. It was about the same thing. Just about.

"Yeah. Something like that." Tim answered, his voice casual, not telling a lie but not the truth either.

"You're being purposely obtuse," Batman gritted out.

"Aren't you supposed to be the world's greatest detective—fill in the blanks," Tim mocked.

Batman's lip which had been in that ever-fixed frown of his curled into snarl. He was getting angry. Good.

"It seems to me that you've been lying about how close your relations with the League have been and that this attack was likely a personal one." B theorized, his voice leaving its monotone quality for a colder one. An angrier one.

Tim let a silence befall the three of them before he responded.

"I told you I don't know why the League's in Gotham," He sighed as if Batman and Dick were being difficult—which they were. " Ra's doesn't have some personal vendetta against me because if he did I'm sure he would would have flaunted in your face the last time you guys spoke. Which was what 5 months ago. You know how he's arrogant like that—he would enjoy seeing you squirm as he told you he was targeting one of your Robins. "

It was Dick's turn to look suspicious over Tim's words.

"You lost your spleen, Tim. You don't just not mention that." Dick said. He looked sad now rather that his frazzled look he had earlier. The weight of what had been spoken about tonight starting to settle upon him.

He looked strangely enough hurt. Tim could understand he was worried over the fact Tim got surgery, he could relate surgery had been a nerve wracking thing when his dad had been in a the hospital. And for that he sent Dick a reassuring smile. He was ok now—he didn't have to worry. He knew how to deal with life spleen-less especially one where you're in dingy alleys fighting sketchy guys that had sketchy substances on them.

"Dick it's cool. I know how to deal with it and Lesley has access to my medical records. If it came to it I would have been fine."

"No it's not!" Dick yelled, voice firm. "That—this—you can't just keep that secret. You can't just have secrets like that."

"What like any of guys don't have your own secrets," he sneered, "Besides it wasn't this big old secret. My medical file is easily accessible you guys could have opened it anytime to know."

"But how were we supposed to know?" Dick asked, angrily. Much angrier than before.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Never said you had to know." He said it lightly, but Dick had acted as if he screamed it across the cave. He had shut his eyes and turned away from him, one hand pinching his brow and the other steadying him over the Bat computer as he leaned over it. He muttered something to B and he in turn began his own interrogation over Tim's supposed League affiliations.

He could have tried to be appeasing. Put on the charming and dutiful son act that disarmed even B sometimes.

But Timothy Drake wasn't placating. He stood up for what he thought was right and he did what he thought was right. Like how he decided to help Batman by becoming Robin because what Batman did was right for Gotham. And he couldn't do that correctly if he didn't have a Robin.

And as of now what was right, what would help Batman, what was rational was no outside interference if it could be helped while dealing with Ra's because if he was right about what he thought Ra's was planning, putting some distance between himself, Dick and Batman by acting and saying things, stuff he's been wanting to say for a while, that would upset them both would keep them ok—he couldn't exactly say safe. No where in Gotham was safe. But that is beside the point. If it was necessary to put some space between him and them then he would do it. Tim was good that way.

But maybe Tim was too good at it—a bit to sincere about it, a bit too provoking, through it all Dick kept his back to him but after one too many snarky remarks he snapped.

"What else are you hiding?" he exploded.

"Nothing!" Tim replied with the same energy. He was getting tired with this back and forth they were doing. His ears were starting to ring. Batman would have usually shut this down by now and benched him or something like that by now. But tonight he and Dick were making it difficult for Tim. His headache was getting worse along with his mood.

"I don't believe you."

I don't believe you.

…

Things kinda spiraled out of control after that if Tim was being honest.

The words had echoed in his head before white hot rage filled his chest. Not believe him. Not believe him?!

The whole reason he lost his spleen was because he—they didn't believe him. He lost his spleen he proving that he could be believed. That Bruce Wayne, The Batman wasn't dead.

He lost his composure. He yelled and called those two hypocrites and said they weren't entitled to his business—business that wasn't even that big of a deal in the first place. Business that wasn't even secret in the first place. They were just to incompetent to find it.

Batman called him irrational which he was the farthest thing from actually. He relied on logic and rationale and if Batman couldn't see that then maybe he was the one who didn't have his own priorities straight.

Dick told him if there was anyone who didn't have their priorities straight, it was him since he was just jumping in dangerous situations and not calling for backup as if he was suicidal.

Tim wasn't suicidal and he didn't need help for every fucking case he did. He wasn't that same kid who started out fighting crime to help Batman get back on track. Which he did right to vocalize.

"I'm not Robin anymore! I don't need your help or permission for every case I do."

"You certainly are not acting like you don't need my supervision. What you did was irresponsible and immature," Batman stated as if it was a fact.

"Immature, how?" He asked. And yes he did know that he sounded like a petulant child asking that.

"You had explicit knowledge on League activity in Gotham and withheld it as well as vital medical information. What part of that speaks of a capable, mature vigilante."

He never withheld anything.

It—it wasn't fair. For him to say that.

"What about that isn't fair?" Batman asked.

He hadn't even said anything or maybe he did. His head was pounding.

"It isn't fair. I told you—"

"What isn't fair is that you told me you were going to be better, that I could trust you to take care of yourself and clearly you're not," Dick interrupted.

"Like you know what good self care looks like."

"You told me after that whole fiasco with the League last year that you wasn't going to do anything that reckless anymore."

"Dick, we're vigilantes," He made sure to enunciate vigilantes as if he was speaking to a toddler. "Of course I couldn't keep that promise," He scoffed. "Hell you can't even keep that promise—not with all this crap you pull over missions."

"That doesn't—doesn't count I'm saying that you shouldn't be anywhere near the League, not after last time."

He's clearly referring to the window incident. It had been a bittersweet moment. Scary because Tim was ready to die and he was sure Dick saw that but sweet because he didn't. He got back home and he now had proof that they could believe him. Well sweet enough. He still had his work cut out for him them—loose ends to tie, a multi-billion dollar company to run, villains to catch. But that was just another Tuesday.

"It's not like I choose who comes to Gotham to stir up trouble. I was just doing my job."

"Not at your own expense—"

That was real rich coming from Mr. Self Sacrifice.

"—you told me last time we dealt with the League and assassins in Gotham that I could trust you to take care of it. That we could deal with it together."

"I only relied on you back then because I had to. You were Batman. I didn't have a choice."

"What are you talking about?! I'm your brother you can trust me whenever."

"I don't know Dick, can I?" His name rolled off his tongue with a venom he didn't know he could direct to Dick. It startled him as much as it did Dick.

"What so you can only really trust me when I have a cowl on my face," He shot out.

"I'm sorry did you forget why I was even interacting with the League? Because if I remember correctly you all had me labeled as crazy and wouldn't believe me!" Tim spat, "And when I came back all I had was you. I didn't exactly have a choice on who to choose."

" I'm your brother—" Dick said as if it solved anything.

"So what? What good has that done me." It sounded bitter even to him. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth.

"I'm your brother," He repeated, "And that means I'll always be there for you. You can always trust me."

"Then why couldn't I trust you then. Why couldn't you believe me—huh?"

Dick was quiet, he didn't answer or more likely didn't have an answer to that.

"Why couldn't I—HUH—Why couldn't my BROTHER trust me," his voice broke at the last two words.

"I tired to talk to you but you shut me out—you shut everyone out. I wanted to help you—I really did and I tried. I was doing so much and then you—you left and told me to let you go."

"Only after you wouldn't believe me!"

"HOW COULD I? I saw his body, I prepared the funeral and I mourned my father and then you come along saying that he's alive? Tim how the hell was I supposed to take that other than some kind of mental break."

Tim scoffed.

"Really, Tim what the hell was I supposed to fucking do because I'd really like to hear your bright idea."

"You said I could trust you. You told me brothers looked out for each other and I know that wasn't you looking out for me. That was you dealing with me like I was just another problem on your checklist."

He sounded chocked up and he was holding back tears right now just thinking about how empty he felt when he saw Dick's face when he first told him his theory. It was pity mixed with horror—like how could you think this? How could taint his memory like this?

"I know I sounded crazy. I know it was unbelievable—it was even to me. I second guessed myself so much but I thought I could have relied on you for this. You said we could be ok. You promised me that!"

"…"

"Right. You don't have an answer for that, do you?"

"I don't have the answer to everything."

"Yeah I know. Learnt that the hard way."

Tim stared head on onto Dick. Taking in his posture, his facial expressions, his breathing. He was hurt. Tim hurt him. He felt bad doing that—he always felt bad when he hurt Dick. Even when he was rightfully angry at something he did.

"I didn't want to rely on you when I came back but I didn't exactly have a choice."

"So what that whole talk about you telling me to trust you, did you even mean that?"

" I told you already. I needed an ally and you owed me," and then as if it was a second thought he added, "and you were—are my brother."

"Seems like we have two different definitions of the word."

"I guess so, " Tim replied coldly.

Dick ran a hand through mused hair looking stricken before he spoke up again.

"So what? You only come to me when your hand is forced."

"No it isn't like that. " Tim said frustration building up in his chest. Why wasn't Dick understanding, why was he being so difficult. "It wasn't like that before but things weren't good between us then."

"And things aren't good between us now."

"They are."

"Then why don't you act like it. Because before you wouldn't have—"

"Well this isn't before. Things change. I've grown up for god's sake. I don't need you both breathing down my neck all the time."

"So me and Bruce concerned over the fact that you're fighting League of assassins by yourself is us being overbearing?" He asked but it wasn't really a question that he would have appreciated an answer to because if Tim was being honest, yes it was overbearing. All he needed was for them to be his backup when he needed it. Not jumping into the fight over every scrap and cut he got.

"Are we supposed to just be ok with the fact that you don't have a spleen."

Tim groaned, this was getting repetitive.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Dick."

Dick continued to stare him down, not accepting that answer.

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"I want you to trust me."

Indignation and what he could call resentment flared through his body. God, did Dick have some audacity. But hey, he could play nice. He could let Dick have this because he does trust Dick, if he didn't he wouldn't be—be doing this.

"I do."

"No you don't. I need you to trust me. We're brothers, you're supposed to trust me."

Man sometimes Tim wished he could clamp a hand over his mouth because he says some pretty shitty stuff sometimes.

"How about you make that trust is reciprocated because last time I checked you trusted me so much you were willing to send me to Arkham," Tim sneered.

Silence. Deathly silent.

Tim regretted it the moment it left his mouth. They don't speak about that. Tim tries not to think about it. It had happened and Dick was sorry, he had moved on but it still hurt. But Tim wasn't apologizing.

Dick's hands were clenched into fist at his side but his fixed his gaze straight ahead. Dick stared at him and Tim stared back at him. Tim was sure he looked like a mixture of emotions; regret, grief, but mostly anger. Sometimes Tim felt so angry.

He had always been a little angry when he was young. You don't get to be Robin without that fire in you—that anger at the injustice, the crime in this city, this world. But these last two years, it had been so much anger. He wondered some nights whether he would get a red lantern ring. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Bats don't do powers. But right now he kinda wished he had the power to reverse time to prevent this entire night from happening.

Then Dick spoke.

"Your not being fair," Dick faltered before picking back up, " You can't just say that—I was trying. Why can't you see that I was trying?!"

"Then you weren't trying enough."

He looked as if Tim delivered a physical blow and his face twisted into this almost scowl, like he was trying to be angry but he wasn't really.

"You're being—"

He was suddenly pulled back by B who had now grabbed onto his arm, tugging him back. Tim hadn't even realized but over the fight Dick had been getting closer.

"Dick." B spoke, a certain gravity to his voice.

He had been observing the fight with that analytic gaze of his, likely using it to collect info about how things had been while he was 'dead'. Nobody liked talking about it and Tim knew it drove him up the wall not knowing but he was willing not to probe.

"What," he replied.

"Get out."

Now Dick twisted out of his grip and repeated his last statement. This time much harsher.

"I said, get out."