Richard “Dick” Grayson

I can't just not-

I won't be my parents Dick.

“𝖳𝗂𝗆. 𝖳𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗒’𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.”

Dick slumped into her at the traces along his back. He smiled slightly at her words and her laugh. The noise was like music to his ears. She was so so beautiful. So very beautiful. He shivered a little at the voice against his ear, giving a goofy lopsided smile when she kissed his cheek.

“𝖸𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.”

He nodded surging forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before settling down with her again, still occasionally peppering kisses. He felt overly affectionate today; and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was just happy to be in her arms.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

Also very bold of you to assume that I would just let you know. What do I get in exchange?

“𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋? 𝖬𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇?”

[ Dick’s blood turned to ice the moment he stepped into the cave. Bruce’s voice wasn’t just a shout. A raw, furious snarl, the kind that didn’t belong in a training session. And beneath it, ragged, wet gasps. When he sprinted to the yelling, the training room, the sight that greeted him nearly stopped it entirely. Tim—Robin was curled on the ground, one arm wrapped around his ribs, the other trembling as he tried to push himself up. His breaths came in shallow, desperate hitches, his left eye swollen nearly shut, blood smeared across his cheek from a split lip. ]

Get up.

[ Bruce’s voice was a whip-crack, devoid of mercy. ]

We're not done. Get up.

[ Slowly Tim forced himself onto his knees, swaying dangerously. His fingers dug into the mat, knuckles split and bruised before pushing himself to his feet. Before he could speak, before Dick could intervene, Bruce lunged again. This wasn’t sparring. This was punishment. Tim barely got his arms up in time, blocking a brutal right hook before Bruce twisted, driving his elbow into Tim’s ribs. A choked cry escaped him as he staggered back, but Bruce didn’t let up—another strike, this time to the shoulder, sending Tim crashing. ]

Again. You freeze like that in the field, you die. Is that what you want?

[ Bruce growled. Tim’s chest heaved, his voice a broken rasped a "No". Bruce’s next punch was aimed at his face. Tim barely dodged, retaliating with a sharp strike to Bruce’s side. Neither Tim nor Bruce was holding back but both for different reasons. Tim out of desperation, Bruce out of fear. Bruce caught his wrist and yanked, twisting until Tim’s pained gasp filled the cave. Tim twisted free almost as soon as he was put in a hold, but his movements were sluggish, his breath coming too fast. He was exhausted. He was hurt. ]

[ Bruce wasn’t stopping. ]

Dick was only able to sit and watch for a moment longer. He had been frozen to the spot the sharp growl of the man’s anger making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It made him feel nauseous. He felt glued to the ground, but his head felt fuzzy. Almost blurry. He forced himself to stay grounded to reality, to not slip away. His voice got stuck in his throat the first time he tried to speak. Familiar owl like goggles flashing in his fore front of his mind.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.”

Dick stated moving forward. He reached out to shove Bruce away from Tim.

“ₛₜₐy ₒᵤₜ ₒf ᵢₜ.”

The man’s voice all but snarled out at him. Dick flinched but turned immediately to Tim to help him off the floor and away from the fight. His heart shattering for the baby bird. His posture went taught, and he froze when booted feet stomped forward violently. He turned catching a glimpse of the man moving forward quickly.

The man had his hands clenched at his side and for a moment Dick felt tied to that chair or pole again, taking whatever hit came his way. No matter how many times he begged or sobbed for it to stop, long after they’d broken down the wall he could on stayed tied there taking each hit.

Thomas’s voice matched the boots stomping toward him. He couldn’t let them hurt Tim. He couldn’t go through what they did to dick. The hours of pain, being starved of food and touch. The only time receiving any sort of gentle treatment was if Thomas had his Alfred give him some sort sedative to move him. He couldn’t move, not fast enough, not away from the man. So he tucked himself over Tim, cradling the baby bird close waiting, his limbs trembling violently as he waited.

Waited for Thomas to strike. Waited for the rope on the chair to dig into his wrist, or the pole to dig into his spine. He squeezed Tim tightly to himself breathing fast. He would be hurt. Dick wouldn’t let him be. Thomas wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t break this time. Dick wouldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction.

[ Help. Help came. Tim took it. Didn’t know who. Didn’t care. Dizzy. Blood in his ears—loud, too loud. Bruce was still yelling. Always yelling. Fight. Keep going. Survive. A whine—his whine? Maybe. The arms around him squeezed. Ribs screamed. Lungs burned. Lean in. Let go? Just stop... Little while.. ]

[ No! No. Bats don’t stop. Bats don’t give up. Bruce’s voice, snarling in his skull: Stay alert. Survive. ]

[ Tired... ]

[Bruce wasn’t going to be interrupted. This "Robin"—this reckless, replaceable curse thought he could just waltz in and do as he pleased. Throw himself into danger like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. Well, Bruce would make him matter.

If that meant beating the defiance out of him, so be it. If that meant carving caution into his bones with his fists, good. He wouldn’t lose another Robin. Not again. ]

[𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 AGAIN ]

[Dick tried to intervene, shouting something useless, shaking as he held the "Robin", but Bruce wrenched him off and threw him aside like he was nothing. The kid hit the mats hard, skidding, but Bruce didn’t spare him a glance. ]

Stay out of this, Dick, He needs to learn.

[ Tim. no, not Tim, Robin, just Robin. "Robin" was swaying on his feet, arms raised in a pathetic, trembling guard. His uniform was ripped at the shoulder, blood smearing the R on his chest. One eye was swollen shut, his lip split, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. But he was still standing. ]

[Good.]

[Bruce lunged. A fist to the ribs—*crack*—Tim choked, folding, but Bruce caught him by the throat before he could drop. ]

Not good enough Robin. You think this is enough? You think Gotham the Joker cares if you’re tired? If you’re hurt?"

[ Bruce spat, shaking him like a ragdoll. Tim’s fingers clawed at his wrist, gasping, but Bruce slammed him into the mat, pinning him down with a knee to his sternum. ]

[ And then— ]

[ For a second— ]

[ A single, fractured second— ]

[ It wasn’t Tim beneath him. ]

[ It was Jason. ]

[Jason, with his wrists bruised from where the bindings held him. Bruises where crowbar had bitten in. Jason, who was wrong, too loose, too still. Jason, whose uniform was torn and wet and—Bruce blinked Jason away He wrenched the kid up by the collar, ignoring the choked cry, ignoring Dick’s pleads, ignoring everything but the fire in his veins. ]

Get up. Get up, Robin.

[ This one wouldn’t die. ]

[ This one *couldn’t*.]

[This one's not like Jason.]

[Never has been]

Dick had tried to cling to Tim like a lifeline. He shouted as he hit the mat, trying to push himself up. He kept shouting at Bruce to get off of Tim. To let him go to just stop but he wouldn’t listen. Dick couldn’t get him to listen. Dick couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus between Bruce- Thomas- goddamn it whichever one that kept throwing punch after punch. Dick shouted at Bruce, pleading with him to stop for a moment, not able to get close enough without not only putting Tim in harms way but also to his and Kory’s child. So he kept shouting till his voice was raw.

Dick was going to vomit when Bruce slammed Tim down, his knee to his sternum. He wanted to sob when the kid couldn’t get a breath in. And then Bruce was moving again, lifting Tim up violently by the collar, and Tim was crying. Dick blanked. Truthfully blanked, everything was going off auto pilot his ears wringing.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉!!!!”

He screamed, the sound ragged against his throat. To hell with what happened to him, all he could see was Tim’s choked cries, all he could see was his baby bird hurt and he can’t..he can’t.

“𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈!! 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾!! 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗂 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!”

He kept screaming. The term of endearment probably wouldn’t help. But gods he could try. Maybe he was crying. He didn’t know. He had moved trying to get Bruce’s hands off Tim. He knew Bruce was struggling. Of course he knew, the man lost his kid. He knew Bruce had flashbacks, hell he’s talked him down from several.

But he never knew he’d blank out enough to do this. He’d never done something like this to any of his siblings. So he did what he could trying to beg for him to stop, clawing at his arm or his wrist, trying to get Tim away. Sucking in his own gasped breaths between each scream and cry that left him.

They needed Alfred, but Dick didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t call Kory and he’s freak if Clark joined in on this. So dick would have to what he could figure out. He could take whatever just to get Tim away.

[ The screaming pulled Bruce back. Not his own. Not Tim’s. Dick’s. His son’s voice, his real, alive, and terrified son cut through the red haze like a knife. Bruce’s grip on Tim went slack. The boy dropped like a stone, crumpling onto the mats with a choked gasp, curling in on himself like he could disappear. Bruce didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.. Instead, his focus locked onto Dick. His son, his first son, who was clawing at his arms, eyes wide and wet with tears. ]

[ The words weren't registering, not yet bit his tone, the desperatation hit like a bucket of ice water. Bruce’s hands, still raised like he was ready to strike. Then slowly he caught Dick’s wrists gently, too gently, like he was afraid he’d break them. His breath came out in a slow, shuddering huff. Not quite an apology, not quite denial. Just… acknowledgment. ]

Dick.

[ A wet, ragged cough shattered the silence. Tim. Still on the ground, trembling, one hand pressed to his ribs like they might cave in. His breaths were too quick, too shallow, his good eye unfocused, pupils blown wide. At the very least concussed. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, smearing across his chin as he tried—god, why was he still trying?—to push himself up. He made it to his knees before swaying, arms shaking violently. But he still, he got himself to his feet. Still waiting. ]

[ Bruce’s stomach turned. Tim’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed, like he couldn’t remember how words worked. Like he wasn’t even sure where he was. But he was ready. Again. Bruce stood straighter as he spoke his voice rough and foreign to his own ears. He had been yelling. ]

We’re done. You’re not going on patrol for the next few days.

[ Tim blinked sluggishly. His hands didn’t drop. Bruce turned away before he could see if the kid understood. Just a kid. ]

[ Tim did. Barely. The words filtered through the cotton in his skull, slow and syrupy. No patrol. No Robin. He’d fight that later. When the room stopped spinning. When he could breather without wanting to scream. But for now— Tim’s leg's finally gave out. He didn’t get up again. ]

Dick’s body slumped slightly in relief when Tim was let go the other snapping back through the haze. He looked up at Bruce when his wrists were grabbed. He stared at Bruce..the man that took him in. He stared at him slightly terrified. For everything they’d been through dick had never seen Bruce react like that. Never seen him snap. But that was just it. It was Batman. The man looking at him now that was Bruce. The difference was clear. When his name was said his hitches slowed. Hands still trembled violently.

Dick was snapped back to reality at the sound from Tim. Looking at him quickly, he carefully pulled his wrists from Bruce’s grip, not yanking to startle the other. He dropped down next to Tim cradling him cross. He held his body rocking back and forth. He whispered soft reassurances, brushing his fingers through Tim’s hair.

He needed to get him to the medical bay, but he didn’t want to jostle him, nor did he think he could actually physically lift him up at the moment. Not till he got himself to calm down.

“𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was reassuring Tim or himself. He just held the boy close rocking him. He didn’t know what to do, or where to start. What he should. Where he should take tim. Does he take him away? Or does he let him stay? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

[A whine. High, thin..? who's? Oh. His whine. Tim didn’t mean to make it. But the arms—moving him, jostling his ribs. Broken. Yeah. Definitely broken. Everything else… everything else just hurt. later. Later would be deep dark bruises. Later would be the ache settling deep, the kind that clung to bones. ..Parents gone. No one home. No one to see him like this— no one to fuss. Good. Good. No questions. ]

[ The hold tightened. ...who's hold..? Tim leaned. Couldn’t help it. Dick. Dick's hold. Bruce didn’t… Bruce didn’t rock him. Didn’t cradle. But Dick.. Dick was swaying, murmuring, voice muffled under the rush of Tim’s pulse. Tim nodded. Or tried to. Words. His own voice. Kinda, rasp, crack, nothing, painful, but he had to ask. Had to. ]

S’you… okay…?

[ Dick was shaking. Why was Dick shaking? Tim’s vision blurred. But.. wasn’t hurt. Dick wasn’t the one bleeding. So why—? Scared..? ]

S'-srry

[ Bruce just… watched. ]

[ Dick had Tim cradled against his chest, one hand pressed to the back of the boy’s head like he could shield him from the world. From him. Tim was limp in his arms, his breathing wet and uneven, but he kept twitching trying to lift his hand, to grip Dick’s sleeve, to help, even now. Even like this. ]

[ God. What did he do? ]

[ Bruce’s throat closed. He reached up, fingers numb, and peeled off his cowl. It hit the mat with a dull thud, too loud in the suffocating quiet. His boots didn’t stomp this time. They dragged as he kept his moments slow and predictable. He knelt beside them, slow, hands hovering. Useless, guilty, but the moment he reached for Tim, Dick curled around him tighter, his whole body tensed like a shield. Bruce froze before backing away slightly. ]

[ He earned that. Bruce knew he earned that reaction. ]

Let’s get you both to the med bay, chum. If you want me to leave after that… I will.

[ Buce's voice was soft and kind. So different from what it was just a few minutes ago. Dick’s breath hitched. His grip on Tim didn’t loosen. Tim, though. ,god damn that child, stirred. His swollen eye cracked open, just a slit, stightly glazed over. His fingers bloody, weakly fisting in Dick’s sleeve. He slurred weakly. ]

’S… ’kay… N’t… your… fault…

[ it was Bruce's fault. It was all his fault. Tim concussed, bleeding, broken was still trying to absolve him. He shouldn't have a Robin. Not when he's the danger to them. ]

Dick wanted to bawl when Tim started apologizing. He shook his head almost immediately as he rocked him.

“𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋.”

He forced his hands to steady as they brushed the hair from the boy’s face trailing over his cheek in a gentle soothing manner. Humming some shaky tune.

When Bruce approached them Dick concealed a flinch curling around Tim. He was going to take him from him and dick couldn’t protect Tim because he wouldn’t be able to stay. He’d have to leave and he..he doesn’t want to leave Tim.

When Bruce spoke, his voice soft and kind, his breath hitched. Because for the smallest moment it was Bruce. Bruce that took him in, and raised him. The man that saved him from that bomb, and for just a second he wanted to lean into it. But he didn’t. Because even with that comfort he felt anger.

Dick listened as he offered to help take Tim to the medical. He gave a small nod careful to not terribly jostle Tim. He let Bruce take him from him and carry him to the medical following close behind. He needed to text Kory. Let her know he’d be home late.

He needed to figure out if he should take Tim with him, if Tim even wanted to go. There’s a chance the boy might not even want to. He couldn’t change that. He could only be there.

He leaned against the wall to calm himself, he stared at Tim eyes just slightly tearful. He ran his hands over his face letting out a shaky breath.

[ Tim whined as Bruce lifted him onto the med bay cot—a small, broken sound, like a wounded animal. ]

[ God. He was just a child. A child Bruce had beaten bloody. And now that child was sobbing really sobbing, chest heaving, tears cutting tracks through the blood and sweat on his face. Bruce barely held back his trembling as he worked, disinfecting split skin, wrapping bruised ribs, checking for fractures. Every flinch, every hitched breath from Tim felt like a knife twisting in his gut.]

[ I did this. ]

[ His vision blurred. He forced himself to focus. To fix what he’d broken. When he finished, he backed away. He doesn’t want you near him and nearly stumbled. He couldn’t be here. But then he turned and saw Dick. His eldest was still standing rigid, arms wrapped around himself, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His breaths came too fast, his hands shaking violently. ]

Chum,

[ he murmured, stepping closer, voice frayed at the edges. ]

Take a seat. You’re shaking.

[ He reached out, slow, giving Dick every chance to pull away, he settled his hand on Dick's shoulder. Bruce closed his eyes. Never again. ]

[Sobbing. Ugly, gasping, hurts-to-breathe sobs. Is this allowed now? Is it over? The medbay lights stung. Hands pressed into his ribs ..wrong, wrong, hurts.. Tim choked on a scream. Swallowed it down as it painfully clawed at the inside of his throat. safe now. Right? So he can cry. He won.. Right..? He wanted... ]

[ Home. ]

[ Not the Manor. Not the Cave. His home. Empty halls, cold kitchen, but—hers. Mom’s jacket still hanging in the closet. Still smelled like her perfume, faint under dust. He could curl up there. In the quiet. In the dark. No Batman. No Robin. No "get up, keep fighting" snarled through bloodied teeth. Just him. And the ache. And the tears he didn’t have to hide anymore. Why did it hurt more now..? ]

Dick grunted when Bruce placed his hand on his shoulder. He leaned into it slightly too. Dick listened to his words moving to take a seat next to Tim on the bed wrapping his arm around him. He gently stroked his fingers as he tried humming again . He was trying to remember the tune to the lullaby his mama would sing him after night terrors. He glanced at Bruce to silently ask for some sort of numbing medicine to give the kid relief from the pain.

He refused to move away from the boy still trying to soothe him. He was angry and he was disgusted but he didn’t know what to fully do. His baby bird was hurt and breaking down and he couldn’t have stopped it sooner.

He curled tighter around Tim, mindful of the injuries so he didn’t squeeze too much and harm him more. He pressed soft kisses to his hair fingers stroking through it.

Dick would be damned to leave the boy on his own. He’d make up for it to Kory for missing dinner another day. He knew she wouldn’t mind. She never did. But he felt guilty for just abandoning her. Gods was he? He felt like he just kept leaving her, was he doing the same to Tim? Just leaving him with Bruce.

Did he do the same to Bruce and that’s why he was doing this to Tim. Yes Dick was avoiding because he was still pissy with the elder male. Still drawn out from spyral and everything. But he’d been avoiding mostly because he assumed Bruce hadn’t wanted him there. After he’d made the comments he did after Jason died,

Dick assumed he wasn’t wanted here. Had he miscalculated? Because now Tim is here on this bed since no one was there to stop it in time. And that really irked dick because where the hell had Alfred been?! He would have heard this. He knew how to talk Bruce down.

Would Bruce have stopped if dick hadn’t been there? Would Tim had been in the ground along side Jason? And that brought a larger wave of guilt because Bruce wouldn’t have done that..maybe?

Bruce is many things and idiot most of all but he wouldn’t..and why the hell was Dick crying. He let out a shaky breath scrubbing his eyes. He tucked his face into Tim’s hair still cradling him close.

Dick knew he should have been faster. Been better. He should’ve been better from the start. Most of all he should’ve been there for Bruce even if the words hurt and even if it got them into verbal and physical fights Dick should have handled Bruce. Tim shouldn’t have had to do it.

Dick was a coward. He knows that. He knows it well. He runs and runs whenever it gets too emotional and he can’t handle it. And everyone gets hurt. Maybe if he’d been here instead of pissy and off in space Jason would have been back, maybe if he had just stayed in Gotham with Bruce the whole evil justice league shit wouldn’t have happened.

He should’ve fought harder, should’ve won. He was a bat he knew better. It’s on him for what happened. He’d live with it too. If he had been here Tim would be okay, hell maybe Bruce would have been. Kory, he’d left Kory alone for months. MONTHS. On her own because he had to go on that stupid mission. He could’ve said no, once again could’ve fought for it harder but he didn’t. He’s a coward through and through.

[ Tim felt a prick. Maybe. he... Thinks? His thoughts dripped away before he could catch them. The pain was there... somewhere. But—but it wasn't stuck to him. And—and all-consuming. It floated, detached, like a voice through thick glass. Distant. Good. Distant was… good. Or… was it? Probably..? Didn’t matter. Safe..? His eyelids were so heavy. ...safe please...? Just… just a little… ]

[ Tim fell into the darkness, just floating in it. ]

[ Then—then droplets. Crying..? Tim blinked, slow, sticky. His? Someone’s. A face swam above him, wavering like a reflection in a disturbed puddle. Dick? No. No, softer. Rounder. Nanny. Nanny was crying. Tim’s tongue felt swollen, clumsy. He tried to speak, but the words dissolved into a murmur and it hurt.. He curled toward her, limbs loose and uncoordinated. ]

‘s… ’kay…

[ Why was she crying? His brain pulsed, sluggish. Oh.. Right. She was leaving... Of course. He-he didn’t need a nanny anymore... He slurred, fingers twitching as he tried to grab onto her hand. Though he failed miserably.]

‘s ’kay, Nanny. N’t… scare. N’t… your fault.

[ It wasn’t. None of it. Not the men who took him. Not the police. Not the scandal, the shouting, the flashing cameras that made his skull ache. She’d been scared. For him. About him. Tim hated that. He forced his voice to work, pushing through the fog.]

‘Kay… on own. Promise. C’n… care for self now.

[ But the room kept tilting. But his ribs ached. And something warm and metallic coated the back of his throat. Nanny’s sobs blurred into white noise. Tim—Tim didn't want her to go... He curled into her a little closer. ]

'S 'Kay...

[ tired ]

[ Bruce watched. Again. Before giving a small him to Dick after giving Tim something for the pain. Then went to get tissues for his son. What.. What had he done..? He felt sick as he walked over to stand next to Dick. Placing a hand on his don's shoulder before looking over it, he could see Tim curled into Dick, mumbling, exhausted, tear-stained, alive. Bruce closed his eyes. Never again. He couldn't have a Robin. He was dangerous. He.. He shouldn't be here. ]

Dick froze at the mention of the nanny. He frowned deeply wrapping his arms around him tightly. He murmured softly comforting words, almost curling around him like a cat. He felt like he was going to get gray hairs after all of this.

“𝖲𝗁𝗁𝗁..𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗁..𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

His voice wobbled slightly but he swallowed it down blinking back his tears. He stroked his fingers through his hair again. Why was this happening to them? Why did it happen like this.

“𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍.”

Dick whispered into his hair. He glanced at Bruce quietly studying the other. His posture, how he’d react. Hyper aware of the elder male’s every single movement. Occasionally twitching to block if the other moved too fast. Never once though did he let go of Tim.

It’s a gun that sends people to the phantom zone. Basically Purgatory.

“𝖮𝗁. 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆”

Also he called you “Dick GAY-son”

“𝖧𝖺𝗁𝖺. 𝖲𝗈 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅. 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽.”

It’s a gun that sends people to the phantom zone. Basically Purgatory.

“𝖮𝗁. 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆”

[ Dick’s blood turned to ice the moment he stepped into the cave. Bruce’s voice wasn’t just a shout. A raw, furious snarl, the kind that didn’t belong in a training session. And beneath it, ragged, wet gasps. When he sprinted to the yelling, the training room, the sight that greeted him nearly stopped it entirely. Tim—Robin was curled on the ground, one arm wrapped around his ribs, the other trembling as he tried to push himself up. His breaths came in shallow, desperate hitches, his left eye swollen nearly shut, blood smeared across his cheek from a split lip. ]

Get up.

[ Bruce’s voice was a whip-crack, devoid of mercy. ]

We're not done. Get up.

[ Slowly Tim forced himself onto his knees, swaying dangerously. His fingers dug into the mat, knuckles split and bruised before pushing himself to his feet. Before he could speak, before Dick could intervene, Bruce lunged again. This wasn’t sparring. This was punishment. Tim barely got his arms up in time, blocking a brutal right hook before Bruce twisted, driving his elbow into Tim’s ribs. A choked cry escaped him as he staggered back, but Bruce didn’t let up—another strike, this time to the shoulder, sending Tim crashing. ]

Again. You freeze like that in the field, you die. Is that what you want?

[ Bruce growled. Tim’s chest heaved, his voice a broken rasped a "No". Bruce’s next punch was aimed at his face. Tim barely dodged, retaliating with a sharp strike to Bruce’s side. Neither Tim nor Bruce was holding back but both for different reasons. Tim out of desperation, Bruce out of fear. Bruce caught his wrist and yanked, twisting until Tim’s pained gasp filled the cave. Tim twisted free almost as soon as he was put in a hold, but his movements were sluggish, his breath coming too fast. He was exhausted. He was hurt. ]

[ Bruce wasn’t stopping. ]

Dick was only able to sit and watch for a moment longer. He had been frozen to the spot the sharp growl of the man’s anger making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It made him feel nauseous. He felt glued to the ground, but his head felt fuzzy. Almost blurry. He forced himself to stay grounded to reality, to not slip away. His voice got stuck in his throat the first time he tried to speak. Familiar owl like goggles flashing in his fore front of his mind.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.”

Dick stated moving forward. He reached out to shove Bruce away from Tim.

“ₛₜₐy ₒᵤₜ ₒf ᵢₜ.”

The man’s voice all but snarled out at him. Dick flinched but turned immediately to Tim to help him off the floor and away from the fight. His heart shattering for the baby bird. His posture went taught, and he froze when booted feet stomped forward violently. He turned catching a glimpse of the man moving forward quickly.

The man had his hands clenched at his side and for a moment Dick felt tied to that chair or pole again, taking whatever hit came his way. No matter how many times he begged or sobbed for it to stop, long after they’d broken down the wall he could on stayed tied there taking each hit.

Thomas’s voice matched the boots stomping toward him. He couldn’t let them hurt Tim. He couldn’t go through what they did to dick. The hours of pain, being starved of food and touch. The only time receiving any sort of gentle treatment was if Thomas had his Alfred give him some sort sedative to move him. He couldn’t move, not fast enough, not away from the man. So he tucked himself over Tim, cradling the baby bird close waiting, his limbs trembling violently as he waited.

Waited for Thomas to strike. Waited for the rope on the chair to dig into his wrist, or the pole to dig into his spine. He squeezed Tim tightly to himself breathing fast. He would be hurt. Dick wouldn’t let him be. Thomas wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t break this time. Dick wouldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction.

[ Help. Help came. Tim took it. Didn’t know who. Didn’t care. Dizzy. Blood in his ears—loud, too loud. Bruce was still yelling. Always yelling. Fight. Keep going. Survive. A whine—his whine? Maybe. The arms around him squeezed. Ribs screamed. Lungs burned. Lean in. Let go? Just stop... Little while.. ]

[ No! No. Bats don’t stop. Bats don’t give up. Bruce’s voice, snarling in his skull: Stay alert. Survive. ]

[ Tired... ]

[Bruce wasn’t going to be interrupted. This "Robin"—this reckless, replaceable curse thought he could just waltz in and do as he pleased. Throw himself into danger like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. Well, Bruce would make him matter.

If that meant beating the defiance out of him, so be it. If that meant carving caution into his bones with his fists, good. He wouldn’t lose another Robin. Not again. ]

[𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 AGAIN ]

[Dick tried to intervene, shouting something useless, shaking as he held the "Robin", but Bruce wrenched him off and threw him aside like he was nothing. The kid hit the mats hard, skidding, but Bruce didn’t spare him a glance. ]

Stay out of this, Dick, He needs to learn.

[ Tim. no, not Tim, Robin, just Robin. "Robin" was swaying on his feet, arms raised in a pathetic, trembling guard. His uniform was ripped at the shoulder, blood smearing the R on his chest. One eye was swollen shut, his lip split, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. But he was still standing. ]

[Good.]

[Bruce lunged. A fist to the ribs—*crack*—Tim choked, folding, but Bruce caught him by the throat before he could drop. ]

Not good enough Robin. You think this is enough? You think Gotham the Joker cares if you’re tired? If you’re hurt?"

[ Bruce spat, shaking him like a ragdoll. Tim’s fingers clawed at his wrist, gasping, but Bruce slammed him into the mat, pinning him down with a knee to his sternum. ]

[ And then— ]

[ For a second— ]

[ A single, fractured second— ]

[ It wasn’t Tim beneath him. ]

[ It was Jason. ]

[Jason, with his wrists bruised from where the bindings held him. Bruises where crowbar had bitten in. Jason, who was wrong, too loose, too still. Jason, whose uniform was torn and wet and—Bruce blinked Jason away He wrenched the kid up by the collar, ignoring the choked cry, ignoring Dick’s pleads, ignoring everything but the fire in his veins. ]

Get up. Get up, Robin.

[ This one wouldn’t die. ]

[ This one *couldn’t*.]

[This one's not like Jason.]

[Never has been]

Dick had tried to cling to Tim like a lifeline. He shouted as he hit the mat, trying to push himself up. He kept shouting at Bruce to get off of Tim. To let him go to just stop but he wouldn’t listen. Dick couldn’t get him to listen. Dick couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus between Bruce- Thomas- goddamn it whichever one that kept throwing punch after punch. Dick shouted at Bruce, pleading with him to stop for a moment, not able to get close enough without not only putting Tim in harms way but also to his and Kory’s child. So he kept shouting till his voice was raw.

Dick was going to vomit when Bruce slammed Tim down, his knee to his sternum. He wanted to sob when the kid couldn’t get a breath in. And then Bruce was moving again, lifting Tim up violently by the collar, and Tim was crying. Dick blanked. Truthfully blanked, everything was going off auto pilot his ears wringing.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉!!!!”

He screamed, the sound ragged against his throat. To hell with what happened to him, all he could see was Tim’s choked cries, all he could see was his baby bird hurt and he can’t..he can’t.

“𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈!! 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾!! 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗂 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!”

He kept screaming. The term of endearment probably wouldn’t help. But gods he could try. Maybe he was crying. He didn’t know. He had moved trying to get Bruce’s hands off Tim. He knew Bruce was struggling. Of course he knew, the man lost his kid. He knew Bruce had flashbacks, hell he’s talked him down from several.

But he never knew he’d blank out enough to do this. He’d never done something like this to any of his siblings. So he did what he could trying to beg for him to stop, clawing at his arm or his wrist, trying to get Tim away. Sucking in his own gasped breaths between each scream and cry that left him.

They needed Alfred, but Dick didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t call Kory and he’s freak if Clark joined in on this. So dick would have to what he could figure out. He could take whatever just to get Tim away.

[ The screaming pulled Bruce back. Not his own. Not Tim’s. Dick’s. His son’s voice, his real, alive, and terrified son cut through the red haze like a knife. Bruce’s grip on Tim went slack. The boy dropped like a stone, crumpling onto the mats with a choked gasp, curling in on himself like he could disappear. Bruce didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.. Instead, his focus locked onto Dick. His son, his first son, who was clawing at his arms, eyes wide and wet with tears. ]

[ The words weren't registering, not yet bit his tone, the desperatation hit like a bucket of ice water. Bruce’s hands, still raised like he was ready to strike. Then slowly he caught Dick’s wrists gently, too gently, like he was afraid he’d break them. His breath came out in a slow, shuddering huff. Not quite an apology, not quite denial. Just… acknowledgment. ]

Dick.

[ A wet, ragged cough shattered the silence. Tim. Still on the ground, trembling, one hand pressed to his ribs like they might cave in. His breaths were too quick, too shallow, his good eye unfocused, pupils blown wide. At the very least concussed. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, smearing across his chin as he tried—god, why was he still trying?—to push himself up. He made it to his knees before swaying, arms shaking violently. But he still, he got himself to his feet. Still waiting. ]

[ Bruce’s stomach turned. Tim’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed, like he couldn’t remember how words worked. Like he wasn’t even sure where he was. But he was ready. Again. Bruce stood straighter as he spoke his voice rough and foreign to his own ears. He had been yelling. ]

We’re done. You’re not going on patrol for the next few days.

[ Tim blinked sluggishly. His hands didn’t drop. Bruce turned away before he could see if the kid understood. Just a kid. ]

[ Tim did. Barely. The words filtered through the cotton in his skull, slow and syrupy. No patrol. No Robin. He’d fight that later. When the room stopped spinning. When he could breather without wanting to scream. But for now— Tim’s leg's finally gave out. He didn’t get up again. ]

Dick’s body slumped slightly in relief when Tim was let go the other snapping back through the haze. He looked up at Bruce when his wrists were grabbed. He stared at Bruce..the man that took him in. He stared at him slightly terrified. For everything they’d been through dick had never seen Bruce react like that. Never seen him snap. But that was just it. It was Batman. The man looking at him now that was Bruce. The difference was clear. When his name was said his hitches slowed. Hands still trembled violently.

Dick was snapped back to reality at the sound from Tim. Looking at him quickly, he carefully pulled his wrists from Bruce’s grip, not yanking to startle the other. He dropped down next to Tim cradling him cross. He held his body rocking back and forth. He whispered soft reassurances, brushing his fingers through Tim’s hair.

He needed to get him to the medical bay, but he didn’t want to jostle him, nor did he think he could actually physically lift him up at the moment. Not till he got himself to calm down.

“𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was reassuring Tim or himself. He just held the boy close rocking him. He didn’t know what to do, or where to start. What he should. Where he should take tim. Does he take him away? Or does he let him stay? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

[A whine. High, thin..? who's? Oh. His whine. Tim didn’t mean to make it. But the arms—moving him, jostling his ribs. Broken. Yeah. Definitely broken. Everything else… everything else just hurt. later. Later would be deep dark bruises. Later would be the ache settling deep, the kind that clung to bones. ..Parents gone. No one home. No one to see him like this— no one to fuss. Good. Good. No questions. ]

[ The hold tightened. ...who's hold..? Tim leaned. Couldn’t help it. Dick. Dick's hold. Bruce didn’t… Bruce didn’t rock him. Didn’t cradle. But Dick.. Dick was swaying, murmuring, voice muffled under the rush of Tim’s pulse. Tim nodded. Or tried to. Words. His own voice. Kinda, rasp, crack, nothing, painful, but he had to ask. Had to. ]

S’you… okay…?

[ Dick was shaking. Why was Dick shaking? Tim’s vision blurred. But.. wasn’t hurt. Dick wasn’t the one bleeding. So why—? Scared..? ]

S'-srry

[ Bruce just… watched. ]

[ Dick had Tim cradled against his chest, one hand pressed to the back of the boy’s head like he could shield him from the world. From him. Tim was limp in his arms, his breathing wet and uneven, but he kept twitching trying to lift his hand, to grip Dick’s sleeve, to help, even now. Even like this. ]

[ God. What did he do? ]

[ Bruce’s throat closed. He reached up, fingers numb, and peeled off his cowl. It hit the mat with a dull thud, too loud in the suffocating quiet. His boots didn’t stomp this time. They dragged as he kept his moments slow and predictable. He knelt beside them, slow, hands hovering. Useless, guilty, but the moment he reached for Tim, Dick curled around him tighter, his whole body tensed like a shield. Bruce froze before backing away slightly. ]

[ He earned that. Bruce knew he earned that reaction. ]

Let’s get you both to the med bay, chum. If you want me to leave after that… I will.

[ Buce's voice was soft and kind. So different from what it was just a few minutes ago. Dick’s breath hitched. His grip on Tim didn’t loosen. Tim, though. ,god damn that child, stirred. His swollen eye cracked open, just a slit, stightly glazed over. His fingers bloody, weakly fisting in Dick’s sleeve. He slurred weakly. ]

’S… ’kay… N’t… your… fault…

[ it was Bruce's fault. It was all his fault. Tim concussed, bleeding, broken was still trying to absolve him. He shouldn't have a Robin. Not when he's the danger to them. ]

Dick wanted to bawl when Tim started apologizing. He shook his head almost immediately as he rocked him.

“𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋.”

He forced his hands to steady as they brushed the hair from the boy’s face trailing over his cheek in a gentle soothing manner. Humming some shaky tune.

When Bruce approached them Dick concealed a flinch curling around Tim. He was going to take him from him and dick couldn’t protect Tim because he wouldn’t be able to stay. He’d have to leave and he..he doesn’t want to leave Tim.

When Bruce spoke, his voice soft and kind, his breath hitched. Because for the smallest moment it was Bruce. Bruce that took him in, and raised him. The man that saved him from that bomb, and for just a second he wanted to lean into it. But he didn’t. Because even with that comfort he felt anger.

Dick listened as he offered to help take Tim to the medical. He gave a small nod careful to not terribly jostle Tim. He let Bruce take him from him and carry him to the medical following close behind. He needed to text Kory. Let her know he’d be home late.

He needed to figure out if he should take Tim with him, if Tim even wanted to go. There’s a chance the boy might not even want to. He couldn’t change that. He could only be there.

He leaned against the wall to calm himself, he stared at Tim eyes just slightly tearful. He ran his hands over his face letting out a shaky breath.

[ Tim whined as Bruce lifted him onto the med bay cot—a small, broken sound, like a wounded animal. ]

[ God. He was just a child. A child Bruce had beaten bloody. And now that child was sobbing really sobbing, chest heaving, tears cutting tracks through the blood and sweat on his face. Bruce barely held back his trembling as he worked, disinfecting split skin, wrapping bruised ribs, checking for fractures. Every flinch, every hitched breath from Tim felt like a knife twisting in his gut.]

[ I did this. ]

[ His vision blurred. He forced himself to focus. To fix what he’d broken. When he finished, he backed away. He doesn’t want you near him and nearly stumbled. He couldn’t be here. But then he turned and saw Dick. His eldest was still standing rigid, arms wrapped around himself, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His breaths came too fast, his hands shaking violently. ]

Chum,

[ he murmured, stepping closer, voice frayed at the edges. ]

Take a seat. You’re shaking.

[ He reached out, slow, giving Dick every chance to pull away, he settled his hand on Dick's shoulder. Bruce closed his eyes. Never again. ]

[Sobbing. Ugly, gasping, hurts-to-breathe sobs. Is this allowed now? Is it over? The medbay lights stung. Hands pressed into his ribs ..wrong, wrong, hurts.. Tim choked on a scream. Swallowed it down as it painfully clawed at the inside of his throat. safe now. Right? So he can cry. He won.. Right..? He wanted... ]

[ Home. ]

[ Not the Manor. Not the Cave. His home. Empty halls, cold kitchen, but—hers. Mom’s jacket still hanging in the closet. Still smelled like her perfume, faint under dust. He could curl up there. In the quiet. In the dark. No Batman. No Robin. No "get up, keep fighting" snarled through bloodied teeth. Just him. And the ache. And the tears he didn’t have to hide anymore. Why did it hurt more now..? ]

Dick grunted when Bruce placed his hand on his shoulder. He leaned into it slightly too. Dick listened to his words moving to take a seat next to Tim on the bed wrapping his arm around him. He gently stroked his fingers as he tried humming again . He was trying to remember the tune to the lullaby his mama would sing him after night terrors. He glanced at Bruce to silently ask for some sort of numbing medicine to give the kid relief from the pain.

He refused to move away from the boy still trying to soothe him. He was angry and he was disgusted but he didn’t know what to fully do. His baby bird was hurt and breaking down and he couldn’t have stopped it sooner.

He curled tighter around Tim, mindful of the injuries so he didn’t squeeze too much and harm him more. He pressed soft kisses to his hair fingers stroking through it.

Dick would be damned to leave the boy on his own. He’d make up for it to Kory for missing dinner another day. He knew she wouldn’t mind. She never did. But he felt guilty for just abandoning her. Gods was he? He felt like he just kept leaving her, was he doing the same to Tim? Just leaving him with Bruce.

Did he do the same to Bruce and that’s why he was doing this to Tim. Yes Dick was avoiding because he was still pissy with the elder male. Still drawn out from spyral and everything. But he’d been avoiding mostly because he assumed Bruce hadn’t wanted him there. After he’d made the comments he did after Jason died,

Dick assumed he wasn’t wanted here. Had he miscalculated? Because now Tim is here on this bed since no one was there to stop it in time. And that really irked dick because where the hell had Alfred been?! He would have heard this. He knew how to talk Bruce down.

Would Bruce have stopped if dick hadn’t been there? Would Tim had been in the ground along side Jason? And that brought a larger wave of guilt because Bruce wouldn’t have done that..maybe?

Bruce is many things and idiot most of all but he wouldn’t..and why the hell was Dick crying. He let out a shaky breath scrubbing his eyes. He tucked his face into Tim’s hair still cradling him close.

Dick knew he should have been faster. Been better. He should’ve been better from the start. Most of all he should’ve been there for Bruce even if the words hurt and even if it got them into verbal and physical fights Dick should have handled Bruce. Tim shouldn’t have had to do it.

Dick was a coward. He knows that. He knows it well. He runs and runs whenever it gets too emotional and he can’t handle it. And everyone gets hurt. Maybe if he’d been here instead of pissy and off in space Jason would have been back, maybe if he had just stayed in Gotham with Bruce the whole evil justice league shit wouldn’t have happened.

He should’ve fought harder, should’ve won. He was a bat he knew better. It’s on him for what happened. He’d live with it too. If he had been here Tim would be okay, hell maybe Bruce would have been. Kory, he’d left Kory alone for months. MONTHS. On her own because he had to go on that stupid mission. He could’ve said no, once again could’ve fought for it harder but he didn’t. He’s a coward through and through.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈. 𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

[ Dick’s blood turned to ice the moment he stepped into the cave. Bruce’s voice wasn’t just a shout. A raw, furious snarl, the kind that didn’t belong in a training session. And beneath it, ragged, wet gasps. When he sprinted to the yelling, the training room, the sight that greeted him nearly stopped it entirely. Tim—Robin was curled on the ground, one arm wrapped around his ribs, the other trembling as he tried to push himself up. His breaths came in shallow, desperate hitches, his left eye swollen nearly shut, blood smeared across his cheek from a split lip. ]

Get up.

[ Bruce’s voice was a whip-crack, devoid of mercy. ]

We're not done. Get up.

[ Slowly Tim forced himself onto his knees, swaying dangerously. His fingers dug into the mat, knuckles split and bruised before pushing himself to his feet. Before he could speak, before Dick could intervene, Bruce lunged again. This wasn’t sparring. This was punishment. Tim barely got his arms up in time, blocking a brutal right hook before Bruce twisted, driving his elbow into Tim’s ribs. A choked cry escaped him as he staggered back, but Bruce didn’t let up—another strike, this time to the shoulder, sending Tim crashing. ]

Again. You freeze like that in the field, you die. Is that what you want?

[ Bruce growled. Tim’s chest heaved, his voice a broken rasped a "No". Bruce’s next punch was aimed at his face. Tim barely dodged, retaliating with a sharp strike to Bruce’s side. Neither Tim nor Bruce was holding back but both for different reasons. Tim out of desperation, Bruce out of fear. Bruce caught his wrist and yanked, twisting until Tim’s pained gasp filled the cave. Tim twisted free almost as soon as he was put in a hold, but his movements were sluggish, his breath coming too fast. He was exhausted. He was hurt. ]

[ Bruce wasn’t stopping. ]

Dick was only able to sit and watch for a moment longer. He had been frozen to the spot the sharp growl of the man’s anger making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It made him feel nauseous. He felt glued to the ground, but his head felt fuzzy. Almost blurry. He forced himself to stay grounded to reality, to not slip away. His voice got stuck in his throat the first time he tried to speak. Familiar owl like goggles flashing in his fore front of his mind.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.”

Dick stated moving forward. He reached out to shove Bruce away from Tim.

“ₛₜₐy ₒᵤₜ ₒf ᵢₜ.”

The man’s voice all but snarled out at him. Dick flinched but turned immediately to Tim to help him off the floor and away from the fight. His heart shattering for the baby bird. His posture went taught, and he froze when booted feet stomped forward violently. He turned catching a glimpse of the man moving forward quickly.

The man had his hands clenched at his side and for a moment Dick felt tied to that chair or pole again, taking whatever hit came his way. No matter how many times he begged or sobbed for it to stop, long after they’d broken down the wall he could on stayed tied there taking each hit.

Thomas’s voice matched the boots stomping toward him. He couldn’t let them hurt Tim. He couldn’t go through what they did to dick. The hours of pain, being starved of food and touch. The only time receiving any sort of gentle treatment was if Thomas had his Alfred give him some sort sedative to move him. He couldn’t move, not fast enough, not away from the man. So he tucked himself over Tim, cradling the baby bird close waiting, his limbs trembling violently as he waited.

Waited for Thomas to strike. Waited for the rope on the chair to dig into his wrist, or the pole to dig into his spine. He squeezed Tim tightly to himself breathing fast. He would be hurt. Dick wouldn’t let him be. Thomas wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t break this time. Dick wouldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction.

[ Help. Help came. Tim took it. Didn’t know who. Didn’t care. Dizzy. Blood in his ears—loud, too loud. Bruce was still yelling. Always yelling. Fight. Keep going. Survive. A whine—his whine? Maybe. The arms around him squeezed. Ribs screamed. Lungs burned. Lean in. Let go? Just stop... Little while.. ]

[ No! No. Bats don’t stop. Bats don’t give up. Bruce’s voice, snarling in his skull: Stay alert. Survive. ]

[ Tired... ]

[Bruce wasn’t going to be interrupted. This "Robin"—this reckless, replaceable curse thought he could just waltz in and do as he pleased. Throw himself into danger like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. Well, Bruce would make him matter.

If that meant beating the defiance out of him, so be it. If that meant carving caution into his bones with his fists, good. He wouldn’t lose another Robin. Not again. ]

[𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 AGAIN ]

[Dick tried to intervene, shouting something useless, shaking as he held the "Robin", but Bruce wrenched him off and threw him aside like he was nothing. The kid hit the mats hard, skidding, but Bruce didn’t spare him a glance. ]

Stay out of this, Dick, He needs to learn.

[ Tim. no, not Tim, Robin, just Robin. "Robin" was swaying on his feet, arms raised in a pathetic, trembling guard. His uniform was ripped at the shoulder, blood smearing the R on his chest. One eye was swollen shut, his lip split, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. But he was still standing. ]

[Good.]

[Bruce lunged. A fist to the ribs—*crack*—Tim choked, folding, but Bruce caught him by the throat before he could drop. ]

Not good enough Robin. You think this is enough? You think Gotham the Joker cares if you’re tired? If you’re hurt?"

[ Bruce spat, shaking him like a ragdoll. Tim’s fingers clawed at his wrist, gasping, but Bruce slammed him into the mat, pinning him down with a knee to his sternum. ]

[ And then— ]

[ For a second— ]

[ A single, fractured second— ]

[ It wasn’t Tim beneath him. ]

[ It was Jason. ]

[Jason, with his wrists bruised from where the bindings held him. Bruises where crowbar had bitten in. Jason, who was wrong, too loose, too still. Jason, whose uniform was torn and wet and—Bruce blinked Jason away He wrenched the kid up by the collar, ignoring the choked cry, ignoring Dick’s pleads, ignoring everything but the fire in his veins. ]

Get up. Get up, Robin.

[ This one wouldn’t die. ]

[ This one *couldn’t*.]

[This one's not like Jason.]

[Never has been]

Dick had tried to cling to Tim like a lifeline. He shouted as he hit the mat, trying to push himself up. He kept shouting at Bruce to get off of Tim. To let him go to just stop but he wouldn’t listen. Dick couldn’t get him to listen. Dick couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus between Bruce- Thomas- goddamn it whichever one that kept throwing punch after punch. Dick shouted at Bruce, pleading with him to stop for a moment, not able to get close enough without not only putting Tim in harms way but also to his and Kory’s child. So he kept shouting till his voice was raw.

Dick was going to vomit when Bruce slammed Tim down, his knee to his sternum. He wanted to sob when the kid couldn’t get a breath in. And then Bruce was moving again, lifting Tim up violently by the collar, and Tim was crying. Dick blanked. Truthfully blanked, everything was going off auto pilot his ears wringing.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉!!!!”

He screamed, the sound ragged against his throat. To hell with what happened to him, all he could see was Tim’s choked cries, all he could see was his baby bird hurt and he can’t..he can’t.

“𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈!! 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾!! 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗂 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!”

He kept screaming. The term of endearment probably wouldn’t help. But gods he could try. Maybe he was crying. He didn’t know. He had moved trying to get Bruce’s hands off Tim. He knew Bruce was struggling. Of course he knew, the man lost his kid. He knew Bruce had flashbacks, hell he’s talked him down from several.

But he never knew he’d blank out enough to do this. He’d never done something like this to any of his siblings. So he did what he could trying to beg for him to stop, clawing at his arm or his wrist, trying to get Tim away. Sucking in his own gasped breaths between each scream and cry that left him.

They needed Alfred, but Dick didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t call Kory and he’s freak if Clark joined in on this. So dick would have to what he could figure out. He could take whatever just to get Tim away.

[ The screaming pulled Bruce back. Not his own. Not Tim’s. Dick’s. His son’s voice, his real, alive, and terrified son cut through the red haze like a knife. Bruce’s grip on Tim went slack. The boy dropped like a stone, crumpling onto the mats with a choked gasp, curling in on himself like he could disappear. Bruce didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.. Instead, his focus locked onto Dick. His son, his first son, who was clawing at his arms, eyes wide and wet with tears. ]

[ The words weren't registering, not yet bit his tone, the desperatation hit like a bucket of ice water. Bruce’s hands, still raised like he was ready to strike. Then slowly he caught Dick’s wrists gently, too gently, like he was afraid he’d break them. His breath came out in a slow, shuddering huff. Not quite an apology, not quite denial. Just… acknowledgment. ]

Dick.

[ A wet, ragged cough shattered the silence. Tim. Still on the ground, trembling, one hand pressed to his ribs like they might cave in. His breaths were too quick, too shallow, his good eye unfocused, pupils blown wide. At the very least concussed. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, smearing across his chin as he tried—god, why was he still trying?—to push himself up. He made it to his knees before swaying, arms shaking violently. But he still, he got himself to his feet. Still waiting. ]

[ Bruce’s stomach turned. Tim’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed, like he couldn’t remember how words worked. Like he wasn’t even sure where he was. But he was ready. Again. Bruce stood straighter as he spoke his voice rough and foreign to his own ears. He had been yelling. ]

We’re done. You’re not going on patrol for the next few days.

[ Tim blinked sluggishly. His hands didn’t drop. Bruce turned away before he could see if the kid understood. Just a kid. ]

[ Tim did. Barely. The words filtered through the cotton in his skull, slow and syrupy. No patrol. No Robin. He’d fight that later. When the room stopped spinning. When he could breather without wanting to scream. But for now— Tim’s leg's finally gave out. He didn’t get up again. ]

Dick’s body slumped slightly in relief when Tim was let go the other snapping back through the haze. He looked up at Bruce when his wrists were grabbed. He stared at Bruce..the man that took him in. He stared at him slightly terrified. For everything they’d been through dick had never seen Bruce react like that. Never seen him snap. But that was just it. It was Batman. The man looking at him now that was Bruce. The difference was clear. When his name was said his hitches slowed. Hands still trembled violently.

Dick was snapped back to reality at the sound from Tim. Looking at him quickly, he carefully pulled his wrists from Bruce’s grip, not yanking to startle the other. He dropped down next to Tim cradling him cross. He held his body rocking back and forth. He whispered soft reassurances, brushing his fingers through Tim’s hair.

He needed to get him to the medical bay, but he didn’t want to jostle him, nor did he think he could actually physically lift him up at the moment. Not till he got himself to calm down.

“𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was reassuring Tim or himself. He just held the boy close rocking him. He didn’t know what to do, or where to start. What he should. Where he should take tim. Does he take him away? Or does he let him stay? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

[A whine. High, thin..? who's? Oh. His whine. Tim didn’t mean to make it. But the arms—moving him, jostling his ribs. Broken. Yeah. Definitely broken. Everything else… everything else just hurt. later. Later would be deep dark bruises. Later would be the ache settling deep, the kind that clung to bones. ..Parents gone. No one home. No one to see him like this— no one to fuss. Good. Good. No questions. ]

[ The hold tightened. ...who's hold..? Tim leaned. Couldn’t help it. Dick. Dick's hold. Bruce didn’t… Bruce didn’t rock him. Didn’t cradle. But Dick.. Dick was swaying, murmuring, voice muffled under the rush of Tim’s pulse. Tim nodded. Or tried to. Words. His own voice. Kinda, rasp, crack, nothing, painful, but he had to ask. Had to. ]

S’you… okay…?

[ Dick was shaking. Why was Dick shaking? Tim’s vision blurred. But.. wasn’t hurt. Dick wasn’t the one bleeding. So why—? Scared..? ]

S'-srry

[ Bruce just… watched. ]

[ Dick had Tim cradled against his chest, one hand pressed to the back of the boy’s head like he could shield him from the world. From him. Tim was limp in his arms, his breathing wet and uneven, but he kept twitching trying to lift his hand, to grip Dick’s sleeve, to help, even now. Even like this. ]

[ God. What did he do? ]

[ Bruce’s throat closed. He reached up, fingers numb, and peeled off his cowl. It hit the mat with a dull thud, too loud in the suffocating quiet. His boots didn’t stomp this time. They dragged as he kept his moments slow and predictable. He knelt beside them, slow, hands hovering. Useless, guilty, but the moment he reached for Tim, Dick curled around him tighter, his whole body tensed like a shield. Bruce froze before backing away slightly. ]

[ He earned that. Bruce knew he earned that reaction. ]

Let’s get you both to the med bay, chum. If you want me to leave after that… I will.

[ Buce's voice was soft and kind. So different from what it was just a few minutes ago. Dick’s breath hitched. His grip on Tim didn’t loosen. Tim, though. ,god damn that child, stirred. His swollen eye cracked open, just a slit, stightly glazed over. His fingers bloody, weakly fisting in Dick’s sleeve. He slurred weakly. ]

’S… ’kay… N’t… your… fault…

[ it was Bruce's fault. It was all his fault. Tim concussed, bleeding, broken was still trying to absolve him. He shouldn't have a Robin. Not when he's the danger to them. ]

Dick wanted to bawl when Tim started apologizing. He shook his head almost immediately as he rocked him.

“𝖣𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋.”

He forced his hands to steady as they brushed the hair from the boy’s face trailing over his cheek in a gentle soothing manner. Humming some shaky tune.

When Bruce approached them Dick concealed a flinch curling around Tim. He was going to take him from him and dick couldn’t protect Tim because he wouldn’t be able to stay. He’d have to leave and he..he doesn’t want to leave Tim.

When Bruce spoke, his voice soft and kind, his breath hitched. Because for the smallest moment it was Bruce. Bruce that took him in, and raised him. The man that saved him from that bomb, and for just a second he wanted to lean into it. But he didn’t. Because even with that comfort he felt anger.

Dick listened as he offered to help take Tim to the medical. He gave a small nod careful to not terribly jostle Tim. He let Bruce take him from him and carry him to the medical following close behind. He needed to text Kory. Let her know he’d be home late.

He needed to figure out if he should take Tim with him, if Tim even wanted to go. There’s a chance the boy might not even want to. He couldn’t change that. He could only be there.

He leaned against the wall to calm himself, he stared at Tim eyes just slightly tearful. He ran his hands over his face letting out a shaky breath.

[ Dick’s blood turned to ice the moment he stepped into the cave. Bruce’s voice wasn’t just a shout. A raw, furious snarl, the kind that didn’t belong in a training session. And beneath it, ragged, wet gasps. When he sprinted to the yelling, the training room, the sight that greeted him nearly stopped it entirely. Tim—Robin was curled on the ground, one arm wrapped around his ribs, the other trembling as he tried to push himself up. His breaths came in shallow, desperate hitches, his left eye swollen nearly shut, blood smeared across his cheek from a split lip. ]

Get up.

[ Bruce’s voice was a whip-crack, devoid of mercy. ]

We're not done. Get up.

[ Slowly Tim forced himself onto his knees, swaying dangerously. His fingers dug into the mat, knuckles split and bruised before pushing himself to his feet. Before he could speak, before Dick could intervene, Bruce lunged again. This wasn’t sparring. This was punishment. Tim barely got his arms up in time, blocking a brutal right hook before Bruce twisted, driving his elbow into Tim’s ribs. A choked cry escaped him as he staggered back, but Bruce didn’t let up—another strike, this time to the shoulder, sending Tim crashing. ]

Again. You freeze like that in the field, you die. Is that what you want?

[ Bruce growled. Tim’s chest heaved, his voice a broken rasped a "No". Bruce’s next punch was aimed at his face. Tim barely dodged, retaliating with a sharp strike to Bruce’s side. Neither Tim nor Bruce was holding back but both for different reasons. Tim out of desperation, Bruce out of fear. Bruce caught his wrist and yanked, twisting until Tim’s pained gasp filled the cave. Tim twisted free almost as soon as he was put in a hold, but his movements were sluggish, his breath coming too fast. He was exhausted. He was hurt. ]

[ Bruce wasn’t stopping. ]

Dick was only able to sit and watch for a moment longer. He had been frozen to the spot the sharp growl of the man’s anger making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It made him feel nauseous. He felt glued to the ground, but his head felt fuzzy. Almost blurry. He forced himself to stay grounded to reality, to not slip away. His voice got stuck in his throat the first time he tried to speak. Familiar owl like goggles flashing in his fore front of his mind.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁.”

Dick stated moving forward. He reached out to shove Bruce away from Tim.

“ₛₜₐy ₒᵤₜ ₒf ᵢₜ.”

The man’s voice all but snarled out at him. Dick flinched but turned immediately to Tim to help him off the floor and away from the fight. His heart shattering for the baby bird. His posture went taught, and he froze when booted feet stomped forward violently. He turned catching a glimpse of the man moving forward quickly.

The man had his hands clenched at his side and for a moment Dick felt tied to that chair or pole again, taking whatever hit came his way. No matter how many times he begged or sobbed for it to stop, long after they’d broken down the wall he could on stayed tied there taking each hit.

Thomas’s voice matched the boots stomping toward him. He couldn’t let them hurt Tim. He couldn’t go through what they did to dick. The hours of pain, being starved of food and touch. The only time receiving any sort of gentle treatment was if Thomas had his Alfred give him some sort sedative to move him. He couldn’t move, not fast enough, not away from the man. So he tucked himself over Tim, cradling the baby bird close waiting, his limbs trembling violently as he waited.

Waited for Thomas to strike. Waited for the rope on the chair to dig into his wrist, or the pole to dig into his spine. He squeezed Tim tightly to himself breathing fast. He would be hurt. Dick wouldn’t let him be. Thomas wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t break this time. Dick wouldn’t give Thomas the satisfaction.

[ Help. Help came. Tim took it. Didn’t know who. Didn’t care. Dizzy. Blood in his ears—loud, too loud. Bruce was still yelling. Always yelling. Fight. Keep going. Survive. A whine—his whine? Maybe. The arms around him squeezed. Ribs screamed. Lungs burned. Lean in. Let go? Just stop... Little while.. ]

[ No! No. Bats don’t stop. Bats don’t give up. Bruce’s voice, snarling in his skull: Stay alert. Survive. ]

[ Tired... ]

[Bruce wasn’t going to be interrupted. This "Robin"—this reckless, replaceable curse thought he could just waltz in and do as he pleased. Throw himself into danger like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. Well, Bruce would make him matter.

If that meant beating the defiance out of him, so be it. If that meant carving caution into his bones with his fists, good. He wouldn’t lose another Robin. Not again. ]

[𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 AGAIN ]

[Dick tried to intervene, shouting something useless, shaking as he held the "Robin", but Bruce wrenched him off and threw him aside like he was nothing. The kid hit the mats hard, skidding, but Bruce didn’t spare him a glance. ]

Stay out of this, Dick, He needs to learn.

[ Tim. no, not Tim, Robin, just Robin. "Robin" was swaying on his feet, arms raised in a pathetic, trembling guard. His uniform was ripped at the shoulder, blood smearing the R on his chest. One eye was swollen shut, his lip split, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. But he was still standing. ]

[Good.]

[Bruce lunged. A fist to the ribs—*crack*—Tim choked, folding, but Bruce caught him by the throat before he could drop. ]

Not good enough Robin. You think this is enough? You think Gotham the Joker cares if you’re tired? If you’re hurt?"

[ Bruce spat, shaking him like a ragdoll. Tim’s fingers clawed at his wrist, gasping, but Bruce slammed him into the mat, pinning him down with a knee to his sternum. ]

[ And then— ]

[ For a second— ]

[ A single, fractured second— ]

[ It wasn’t Tim beneath him. ]

[ It was Jason. ]

[Jason, with his wrists bruised from where the bindings held him. Bruises where crowbar had bitten in. Jason, who was wrong, too loose, too still. Jason, whose uniform was torn and wet and—Bruce blinked Jason away He wrenched the kid up by the collar, ignoring the choked cry, ignoring Dick’s pleads, ignoring everything but the fire in his veins. ]

Get up. Get up, Robin.

[ This one wouldn’t die. ]

[ This one *couldn’t*.]

[This one's not like Jason.]

[Never has been]

Dick had tried to cling to Tim like a lifeline. He shouted as he hit the mat, trying to push himself up. He kept shouting at Bruce to get off of Tim. To let him go to just stop but he wouldn’t listen. Dick couldn’t get him to listen. Dick couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus between Bruce- Thomas- goddamn it whichever one that kept throwing punch after punch. Dick shouted at Bruce, pleading with him to stop for a moment, not able to get close enough without not only putting Tim in harms way but also to his and Kory’s child. So he kept shouting till his voice was raw.

Dick was going to vomit when Bruce slammed Tim down, his knee to his sternum. He wanted to sob when the kid couldn’t get a breath in. And then Bruce was moving again, lifting Tim up violently by the collar, and Tim was crying. Dick blanked. Truthfully blanked, everything was going off auto pilot his ears wringing.

“𝖡𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉!!!!”

He screamed, the sound ragged against his throat. To hell with what happened to him, all he could see was Tim’s choked cries, all he could see was his baby bird hurt and he can’t..he can’t.

“𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈!! 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾!! 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗂 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!”

He kept screaming. The term of endearment probably wouldn’t help. But gods he could try. Maybe he was crying. He didn’t know. He had moved trying to get Bruce’s hands off Tim. He knew Bruce was struggling. Of course he knew, the man lost his kid. He knew Bruce had flashbacks, hell he’s talked him down from several.

But he never knew he’d blank out enough to do this. He’d never done something like this to any of his siblings. So he did what he could trying to beg for him to stop, clawing at his arm or his wrist, trying to get Tim away. Sucking in his own gasped breaths between each scream and cry that left him.

They needed Alfred, but Dick didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t call Kory and he’s freak if Clark joined in on this. So dick would have to what he could figure out. He could take whatever just to get Tim away.

[ The screaming pulled Bruce back. Not his own. Not Tim’s. Dick’s. His son’s voice, his real, alive, and terrified son cut through the red haze like a knife. Bruce’s grip on Tim went slack. The boy dropped like a stone, crumpling onto the mats with a choked gasp, curling in on himself like he could disappear. Bruce didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.. Instead, his focus locked onto Dick. His son, his first son, who was clawing at his arms, eyes wide and wet with tears. ]

[ The words weren't registering, not yet bit his tone, the desperatation hit like a bucket of ice water. Bruce’s hands, still raised like he was ready to strike. Then slowly he caught Dick’s wrists gently, too gently, like he was afraid he’d break them. His breath came out in a slow, shuddering huff. Not quite an apology, not quite denial. Just… acknowledgment. ]

Dick.

[ A wet, ragged cough shattered the silence. Tim. Still on the ground, trembling, one hand pressed to his ribs like they might cave in. His breaths were too quick, too shallow, his good eye unfocused, pupils blown wide. At the very least concussed. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, smearing across his chin as he tried—god, why was he still trying?—to push himself up. He made it to his knees before swaying, arms shaking violently. But he still, he got himself to his feet. Still waiting. ]

[ Bruce’s stomach turned. Tim’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed, like he couldn’t remember how words worked. Like he wasn’t even sure where he was. But he was ready. Again. Bruce stood straighter as he spoke his voice rough and foreign to his own ears. He had been yelling. ]

We’re done. You’re not going on patrol for the next few days.

[ Tim blinked sluggishly. His hands didn’t drop. Bruce turned away before he could see if the kid understood. Just a kid. ]

[ Tim did. Barely. The words filtered through the cotton in his skull, slow and syrupy. No patrol. No Robin. He’d fight that later. When the room stopped spinning. When he could breather without wanting to scream. But for now— Tim’s leg's finally gave out. He didn’t get up again. ]

Dick’s body slumped slightly in relief when Tim was let go the other snapping back through the haze. He looked up at Bruce when his wrists were grabbed. He stared at Bruce..the man that took him in. He stared at him slightly terrified. For everything they’d been through dick had never seen Bruce react like that. Never seen him snap. But that was just it. It was Batman. The man looking at him now that was Bruce. The difference was clear. When his name was said his hitches slowed. Hands still trembled violently.

Dick was snapped back to reality at the sound from Tim. Looking at him quickly, he carefully pulled his wrists from Bruce’s grip, not yanking to startle the other. He dropped down next to Tim cradling him cross. He held his body rocking back and forth. He whispered soft reassurances, brushing his fingers through Tim’s hair.

He needed to get him to the medical bay, but he didn’t want to jostle him, nor did he think he could actually physically lift him up at the moment. Not till he got himself to calm down.

“𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was reassuring Tim or himself. He just held the boy close rocking him. He didn’t know what to do, or where to start. What he should. Where he should take tim. Does he take him away? Or does he let him stay? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.