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There’s always a plan.
As a child it had been to stay away from his parents, and slowly it grew into figuring out who Batman - and, eventually, Robin - were. Once he figured that out, he wanted to photograph them. Photographs helped him see things without the cloud of unintentional interaction obscuring his vision.
Dick left, and Jason came along to replace him. Tim could partially understand the reason; Robin was pure, and especially helpful for dealing with victims. It wouldn’t make sense for a moody eighteen year old to be Robin. Jason was pure; a street-kid, sure, but sweet. The photos of him Tim collected always looked magical, even if Jason couldn’t do the same acrobatic moves that Dick could.
Then Jason died, and Batman threw himself into something that wasn’t pure, and Tim planned - schemed, maybe, but he would’ve just called it a plan back then. Robin needed to exist. Dick refused to help, seeming shocked that a thirteen year old knew who he had once been. It pissed Tim off; people always underestimated him.
Bruce didn’t seem to notice when another child just started living with him and accompanying him on his nightly activities. It seemed to calm him, having a bubbly, wide-eyed child next to him, even if Tim refused to wear those skimpy shorts Dick first came up with and Jason copied - he’d stick with the pants, thanks.
Batman stopped being so brutal, though Tim didn’t know if it was because of his innocent-child act or because he was genuinely healing from Jason’s death. He grew more…parental, the longer time went on. Dick only came by for holidays, and didn’t seem to like Tim very much, but that was fine. Batman had a Robin, and as long as he continued to have one, Tim was completing his goals. Tim was winning.
He may not go to school - a fact which seemed to irk Bruce, but Tim was smarter than anyone in a school building, so he didn’t see the point - but he studied. He studied the teens then hung out at parks on the weekends, learnt how to act moody and defiant as he grew. He had no context for why teenagers would act this way when they had lives practically moulded for them already. But Tim liked the thrill of seeing how much he could get away with, and it seemed to give Bruce a purpose to try to calm an angsty teen into something presentable.
Once Tim turned sixteen he moved out. It hadn't been in the plan to follow Dick’s footsteps so soon, but he didn’t go to school, and there was a spot with the Titans’ team that Bruce was itching to get him to join, for some odd reason. He heard Bruce talking to Alfred about it the night before he left, about how it would be good for him to be around people his age. Tim didn’t see the point in it, especially since Batman would no longer have a Robin with him, but he supposed keeping Bruce happy and satisfied would suffice, even if it was from a distance.
He didn’t get along well with the others on the team, so it wasn’t a surprise they left him behind that night. It was a surprise when he awoke to hear an alarm sounding, though he knew who it was.
Red Hood, the new vigilante-killer working in Crime Alley that had taken up most of Bruce’s mind these days. Tim had only been absently interested in figuring out who it was, but once he knew it was Jason Todd, resurrected, he hadn’t really bothered to do anything about it. If Todd - because it felt weird calling this killer the same name as the person he had once admired - wanted Bruce to know who he was, he would go right up to the man in a bat costume and tell him. And based on the now-glowing green eyes he had, and the League-style fighting technique he now had, Tim would quite easily piece together what had occurred in the time between.
He left his bedroom and wandered the halls, only pausing to turn off the shrieking alarm and flashing red lights. Yes, yes, he knew there was someone in the building. He was well aware, thank you.
Todd had a sense of humour; he slinked behind Tim whilst he pretended to look around for the alleged intruder. He was just wondering how Todd knew he was here alone, and would be for a while, when he was shoved from behind and hit the wall roughly. When he turned around, he saw that Todd had dressed himself in some sort of dollar-store version of the Robin costume. Was this really some sort of territorial battle about Robin? Or a mindless killing meant to send a message to Bruce?
Either way, Todd was interrupting his time away from the others, so he just rolled his eyes and leant against the wall, waiting for the dramatic speech or maybe for Todd to pull out a gun and shoot him. Todd was, objectively, stronger than he was, at least in their current positions. Tim only had one weapon, one he wasn’t even sure would work on Todd anyways; words.
“Hello, Replacement.” Todd’s voice wasn’t the Red Hood’s, because he wasn’t wearing a voice modulator. Tim supposed you didn’t have to be concerned about your identity getting leaked if you’d legally died a few years prior. “It seems you’ve taken something from me.”
“I have?” Tim asked, playing clueless. Maybe Todd just wanted to feel Big and Important.
“B seems to have replaced me so easily, taken in a new Robin despite the danger. Maybe two dead Robins will be enough to send a message.”
“Sure, maybe.” Tim agreed. So, this was about murder and messages. He figured as much. “I think Leslie’s got my Will, so that won’t be an issue. I’m sure you remember her, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, though Todd seemed a bit taken aback by the answer, as if he hadn’t expected Tim to roll over and die. “Yeah, and Dick never really liked me anyways, though I supposed Alfred will be a bit sad about my passing.”
“The fuck?” Todd snapped. “B really picked a kid who won’t even fight back-?” A kick hit Tim’s ribs and he wheezed slightly. “-as his Robin? This is my Replacement?”
“What do you want me to do?” Tim grumbled in response. “No, really, what am I supposed to do here? You’ve probably got at least five guns and I’m in my pajamas. Shoot me, torture me, cut off one finger at a time and send it to Bruce, I don’t care. It’s not like I can actually do anything, now can I?”
Todd sighed, though it sounded a bit condescending. “You’re right, I suppose. So, Replacement, tell me, where is the panic button you pressed? I know you’re just buying time.”
“You asking is buying me time, time I can’t do anything with because I threw that thing in a box months ago.” He sneered, then mockingly added in a high-pitched voice “‘Press it anytime and I’ll be there,’ bleh. As if I’d actually do that. Who does he think I am? You?”
Todd reared back, then snarled and threw a right hook across his face. Tim spat blood from his mouth, and rolled his eyes. This was a senseless killing; Todd was acting purely on impulse. Maybe the pair of them weren’t so different after all. Todd kicked him again with the steel-toed boots that didn’t match his cheap Robin costume, this time hitting his chest. Something cracked and Tim slumped to the side despite still being awake. He wouldn’t scream; not to spite Todd or anything, but because he just never saw the point in screaming. A better emotional release would be considering what the afterlife might be like. Were there birds in the afterlife? How ironic would it be if the first thing he saw once he died was a Robin?
“Fuck!” Todd screamed, startling him out of his consideration a few minutes or a few hours later. Pain was everywhere; blood dripped down from his nose and landed on his Wonder Woman pajama pants, staining the baby blue color a dark crimson. At least three of his ribs were broken, and even more bruised or cracked. This was the one trait of his that Bruce never seemed too fussed about; his ability to categorize all of his injuries in a moment’s notice no matter the pain.
His left leg was bent at the wrong angle in two places, though Tim couldn’t tell if it was his tibia or fibula that was broken. His foot - he could see the skin, he hadn’t bothered with socks - was swollen and purple. His right arm was also bent wrong, and his shoulder of that same arm was pulled out of its socket. At least two of his fingers were broken, also on that arm. It was looking more and more likely that he’d been thinking for a few hours as he was tortured senselessly, and Todd had only now grown bored of the lack of response and might try threatening him. Though Tim knew that, at least on some level, Todd would recognize the pointlessness of it.
“Why aren’t you fucking doing anything?” Todd snapped breathlessly. His costume had splashes of blood on it. At some point he’d ditched the too-small Robin gloves, and Tim could see the bruises on his knuckles. “What the hell are you?”
“Wha’ are you?” Tim hissed, slurring just slightly. Blood was in his mouth, and one of his front teeth felt a bit loose. He spat out the blood and continued “A monster? You think jus’ ‘cuz you got funky green eyes you can murder people and it’s okay? Can’ believe you were ever Robin.”
The words were bitter, and mostly Tim just wanted to piss Todd off enough that he’d just kill him and Tim could go somewhere better, or worse. Despite the lack of his life flashing before his eyes, Tim knew he was going somewhere worse once this whole thing was over.
“Fuck, fuck, what have I done?” Todd looked disturbed. Had he gained a sense of clarity all of a sudden? Could Tim flip this to benefit himself?
If he played his card right, right now, he would never have to spend another day with the Titans ever again.
He forced tears to his eyes and made his lower lip wobble. He furrowed his brows and sniffled, letting the fake tears slip down his cheeks. He sobbed and Todd’s head snapped to look at his pathetic state. Todd’s eyes had their own tears in them, though his were of guilt.
“Why’d you hur’ me?” The slur was real, but the whiney tone was entirely acting. Though the whimper of pain that followed was slightly more real. His apathetic mindset was fading, and the pain was hitting now. “I jus’ wan’ed to be like you. I'm sorry, Jason. I’m sorry. Please, I wan’ my dad, I’m sorry.” He continued to sob.
“Shit, shit.” Double curse words must be a Todd thing. He stalked away, though before Tim could wonder where he went, he returned with the first aid kit that always sat on the kitchen counter. Todd must have seen it when he broke in. Todd crouched at his side, though his hands hesitated to help him. Guilt, probably, though Tim couldn’t discern why Todd was so guilty; Tim had replaced him, after all. And his logic was fairly sound. Todd met his teary eyes, winced at the blood on his face, and asked; “Can I help you?”
“It hur’s.” Tim whined, playing up the pathetic kid act. “I wan’ my dad, I wan’ Bruce.”
“I-I can call him. Please, Tim, please. Let me help you first. I really hurt you.” Todd was practically begging. At least he wasn’t crying, Tim supposed. So dramatic; these injuries were unlikely to kill Tim unless he’d lost more blood already than he thought he had, or he developed an infection. Unlikely as well; Todd hadn’t used any dirty weapons and the Tower was usually fairly sterile.
Tim whimpered and met Todd’s eyes. “Please help me.”
Todd was methodical in his work, even if his hands shook. He set Tim’s shoulder - and Tim made sure to wail during it - he set the broken bones - another wail - wrapped and splinted them. He wiped the still-flowing tears and blood off Tim’s face and wrapped his ribs so they wouldn’t shift when he, quite unexpectedly, picked Tim up and deposited him on the couch a little ways away in the living room. Todd left again, this time to retrieve Tim’s phone from his room. Tim made sure to sniffle and wipe his eyes like a little kid would as he put in his password and handed the phone back to Todd.
“No, no- you call him.” Todd said, trying to push the phone back at him. Tim hissed when Todd brushed against his splinted fingers, and Todd stopped. “Okay, okay, fine.”
Bruce picked up on the second ring, and Todd put the phone on speaker.
“Tim? What’s wrong?”
“I fucked up, B.” Jason sobbed into the speaker. Jason, now. This was Jason, not the crazed Pit-mad man who’d broken in with the intent to kill a teenager. “It was green-fuzzy-I hurt him so bad. He’s crying, he’s hurt-”
“Jason?” Bruce breathed into the phone, and Tim almost rolled his eyes. Of course that was what Bruce would focus on first. “Wait, Tim? You- you hurt him?” He sounded so confused, so hurt.
“I-I’m sorry. The Pit rage-” Jason cut off, because he was crying. He shoved the phone at Tim, more gently than last time. Tim sniffled and whimpered, not taking the phone. “Kid come on. Just take it so I can leave and never come back. B’ll be here soon. I bet he’s already on his way.”
Not happening. Tim had already created a forty step plan and Jason leaving was not part of it. Tim curled up and sobbed, waiting for the big bat to arrive and take the two of them home.
Jason never mentioned the sudden attitude change, or his words while getting his ass kicked; maybe he didn’t remember. Or maybe he didn’t want to.
~~~
Tim couldn’t tell if the little shit genuinely disliked him, or if Damian knew more than he let on about what went on in Tim’s head. Tim wouldn’t put it past Ra’s and the League to experiment on the brat and give him freaky psychic powers or something.
The only upside the brat brought was that Dick was home more often now. More often than when Jason first came home with a battered Tim fake-crying into Bruce’s arms. Tim doesn’t know when the plan to keep Bruce happy changed to keeping the family together, but it was a lot harder than one would think. People were so complex and intricate, after all.
And this demon brat brought more problems than he took away. For instance, one of the first actions he was taking in the family in his attempt to heal Jason, was lock him and Tim in the panic room together.
The brat seemed to think that Jason’s avoidance of Tim was due to hate and resentment. That once may have been true, but Tim knew that Jason avoided him for fear of going mad and hurting him again, despite the fact that the incident in the Tower had been the one and only time Jason had ever lost his mind and went Pit-crazy enough to hurt Tim before. Yet, despite this, Jason never wanted to be anywhere near Tim, and this really put a dent in Tim’s plans, even though Dick and Bruce seemed to relax whenever Jaosn planned things around not ever being alone with Tim.
Tim’s plans involved making the whole family happy - though he was reconsidering adding the brat to his list of people he needed to keep happy - so Jason needed to be happy, and it was obvious all he ever felt was guilt for what happened. Which made no sense, since there were no lasting physical or psychological problems Tim retained, and Tim had put on a big show of forgiving Jason in front of Bruce, Alfred, and Dick so they’d accept Jason back into their lives.
But by god was it hard to make everyone happy. At least Tim never had to worry about keeping himself happy.
At the moment, Jason was angry, his eyes were glowing; though his anger was directed at the door to the panic room, which he attacked with a ferocity that Tim would’ve respected had it yielded any results. Jason cursed at it and screamed threats at the person they both knew was waiting for them outside the door.
Damian.
Tim decided he would never take any time out of his day trying to make this demon happy.
Though, in spite of Jason’s fears, here he was, in full Pit-rage, and Tim sat in the corner off to the side, completely unharmed. This show of anger was getting boring, though, and Tim had always wanted to spar with a Pit-mad Jason, even if the man had vehemently refused the one and only time Tim had asked.
Jason had never brought up remembering the Tower incident with full clarity, and certainly not what Tim had said to him, so Tim was banking on Jason not remembering when he stood and smirked at Jason when the Pit-crazy man spun around at the sudden movement.
“Come on, crazy.” Tim taunted, hopping on his feet in a way that universally meant play-fight, fight me. “Let’s see if you succeed this time, instead of failing at yet another thing in your life.”
Jason snarled. “Replacement,” He growled out. He hadn’t called Tim that since the Tower. “You don’t want a fight.”
“Just a spar. Get out that energy.” Tim didn’t actually want to hurt himself, and he very much doubted his ability to actually hurt Jason, but it would still be fun. If only Jason would get on with it.
Jason looked to be about to lunge, but before he could, the door to the panic room flew open and Dick rushed in, throwing himself between the pair. Jason grumbled and started trying to get past Dick as Tim hunched in on himself and played the slightly-scared, but ultimately-okay victim of the brat’s antics.
Bruce rushed in and started inspecting Tim’s arms and face for injuries, and upon finding none, wrapped his arms around Tim and kissed his hair.
“See, they are fine.” The demon snapped from the doorway. “Todd would never have harmed Drake if Drake-” Oh shit, wait, Tim, somehow, completely forgot there were cameras in the panic room. This act was not fooling the demon. He slipped out of Bruce’s arms as Damian kept talking. “-hadn’t egged Todd into a fight.”
“What?” Dick snapped, turning to face the brat but not fully taking his eyes off of a slightly-more-calm Jason. “Tim wouldn’t-”
Tim had finally reached the brat, and shoved him. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him off his feet, but it was still rough. He heard Dick gasp and Bruce shift his weight, preparing to step in.
“Brat,” Tim hissed at Damian, his previous complexion now gone. “We were just playing.”
“Playing.” Bruce echoed incredulously. “He could have killed you.”
Tim shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Timbo…” Dick gasped out sadly, leaving Jason’s side to pull Tim into a hug. “Are you…do you want to hurt yourself?” There was hurt in Dick’s voice and a slight tremble to his limbs. “Why would you do this?”
“I told you. I just wanted to spar. It’s not a big deal.” Tim rolled his eyes, dipping out of Dick’s hug. Damian appeared at Dick’s side, holding a sword. “Oh, fuck off, brat. Jason could do more damage with his fists than you ever could with that thing.”
Damian began towards him, but Dick pulled him back numbly.
“Timmy…is this some sort of break? Do you need help?” He sounded so concerned, and Tim rolled his eyes. Useless. This whole exercise would set back his plans many, many steps.
“I’m fine. Jason didn’t even touch me.” Tim crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you guys are so fussed about. I wanted to spar, but nothing even happened, so what’s the big deal?”
“You did…” Jason suddenly said, still a bit shaky and confused, though confident in his words. “You did the same thing in the Tower, too. I remember…you egged me on.”
Tim rolled his eyes again, shifting his weight with crossed arms, bored of this. “Yeah? You were gonna kill me anyways, why drag it out?”
“Tim…” Bruce said, sounding so broken for no reason.
“Why are you all acting like this is some grand revelation?” The brat snapped. “Drake is insane. I cannot believe none of you have noticed until now.”
“Damian-” Dick began in a scolding tone, but TIm cut him off with a shrug.
“Sure, yeah. Brat’s right about one thing, I guess. Don’t know why you all are so upset about it. It's not like I was trying to hide it.”
“You didn’t disclose it to us.” Bruce said.
“It’s not like I was particularly aware of the extent of my insanity at thirteen.” Tim rolled his eyes again; it was starting to give him a headache, how many times he’d rolled his eyes in the last few minutes. “Besides, it would’ve impacted my plan.”
“What plan?” Dick asked quietly, almost scared.
Tim sighed, annoyed to have to explain himself. “The plan to keep all of you happy. Well, not him-” He gestured at Damian, who gave him an angry glare. “-obviously, but the rest of you. Can’t believe you guys didn’t know this. Aren't you supposed to be the world’s greatest detective or something?”
“Timmy, I think we all just need a bit of time to process this.” Dick says. “How about you go upstairs with Jason and have Alfred made you two some hot chocolate while the three of us talk?”
Tim shrugged. “Sure. C’mon, Jason.” Jason followed numbly behind him as they walked to the kitchen. Tim pretended he didn’t see the concerned glances Dick and Bruce gave one another, nor the glare Damian chased him with.
His plans have just become a whole lot more complicated, but Tim’s never one run away from a challenge.