He's sitting there going over files again. He doesn't do anything that doesn't fit into his daily routine, and his day is scheduled to the point where every minute is taken up with something. In fact, I'm fairly certain he has at least three separate schedules that he color codes and then puts together to make one giant super schedule. I believe he calls it the master schedule, but that's highly beside the point. He doesn't do anything in the vicinity of fun. It's all work, sleep, pretending to be normal--which is just more work, and avoiding people and situations he can't or doesn't want to deal with.
I've tried to get him to go out. I've tried to get him to talk. Hell, I've even tried disrupting his schedule and taking away anything and everything that can be construed as work. It doesn't work…nothing does. It doesn't help, and worse I know it doesn't. The kid has been through so much, and there's nothing I can do. No matter what I try, it ends the same way. He gives me a small shrug, tells me, 'I'm fine, Dick', and goes back to trying to hide the pain by submersing himself in whatever he happens to be doing at the time.
Truth is, in some ways, Tim can be worse than Batman in a good brooding session. Tim doesn't make it apparent when he's in a mood, because he just continues with his schedule. Batman, at least, shows definite signs of when he needs someone to pull him out of the big dark cave. Tim doesn't. Batman shuts out the Bruce Wayne persona and gets all obsessive over things. Tim just continues with both parts of his life…going through the motions and never missing a beat. If it wasn't evident by all the things he has gone through and everything that's happened to him as of late, I don't think even I would have noticed, and that thought stings just a bit more than it should. It makes me question how many times Tim has needed me and I wasn't there, or I just didn't notice.
I mean it should be comforting to think of all the times I've been there for him…all the times I've been able to help; but Bats just aren't trained to focus on all the good things we've done. We always…no matter what…without fail…in every circumstance, will only dwell on the things we didn't or couldn't do. It's like some unwritten law with us. It's just the way it is…the way it always has been, and probably always will be. It's the way it works, and even though plenty of people have tried to stop it, the truth is, Bats aren't just persistent in blaming ourselves for everything that ever went wrong, we are damn proficient at it too.
The fact that I can see how hurt Tim is and know there's nothing I can do about it--know there's no way I can help him, just makes me feel more useless. It makes me feel like I'm letting the kid down…again--and who knows how many times I've done that, albeit unknowingly. The worst thing is, Tim will never say a word about it, because that's just who he is. He'll just shrug it off and continue doing what he does, and if you point it out to him he gets uncomfortable. Why? I have no idea, but he just does.
The kid is visibly tense all of the time. You can see the knots in his back under the armor in his uniform. When a cape won't even hide the physical strain of tense muscles, you know you are too uptight...literally. I mean the kid isn't even relaxed when he's sleeping. That was the first and only time I've ever tranquilized him without a bat approved reason, and clearly it didn't do any good. I thought about giving him a muscle relaxer. I would have too, had it not been for that whole 'he would kill me slowly afterwards' thing, and probably with my own weapons, just to drive the point home.
It's all just so very frustrating. If I can't even help him with the physical pain and stuff, how the hell am I supposed to help him deal with the emotional crap? Especially when he won't talk to me, won't let me in, and won't just accept that I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Hell, he won't even admit that there's anything wrong most of the time--which is just ridiculous. I get it, opening up to people just isn't easy for him, but I'm not just anyone. He's Timmy. He's like my little brother, and I get it. I do. And as horrible as it is, I'm almost hoping that he just has a breakdown--that way we can deal with this…all of this, and he can start to heal--I mean really heal--because at this point, I don't know what else to do.
I can't help him with the way things are, I know that; but it doesn't mean I want to any less. I wish he could see it. I wish he could get it. I wish he would just talk to me. Hell, I'd be happy if he would argue with me, fight me, punch me in the gut, or something…anything, really. At least then I would know he was getting it out someway. But this? This constant avoiding and ignoring, using things like school and work as an escape from feeling or dealing with anything…it scares me.
Who knows how much the kid can really take before he breaks? Who knows who he'll turn to, or if he'll turn to anyone, if, or even more frightening, when that happens? What if I'm not around, or I can't pull him back from the edge? What if he's already dangerously close to the edge and I just don't know because he's Tim…he's Robin--he doesn't show what's going on inside that head of his, unless he absolutely wants you to see.
He only gives small clues, and if you miss those clues he takes it as you didn't care enough to notice; and chances are, the same clue won't be given to the same person in the same way ever again. There are times when I think Tim is too good at this life…far too damn good--mainly because of how well he hides what he feels, or how he uses clues to see who cares enough to work through them. But it's times like this…times when I can see the tension, the pain, the hurt, and all of the other emotions he refuses to admit he feels, where I feel so far away from him, even when I'm standing right next to him. It's like we are worlds apart, and no matter what I do, I can't reach him. I can't get him to see that not everyone leaves…that there are those who stay…that I'm here to stay.
The worst part to all of this is, I know that I'm the person he trusts the most. I know that if he was going to come to someone about anything, it would be me. To say that he trusts me with his life is the biggest understatement of the year. Tim trusts me with the world, and it isn't one-sided--not by a long shot--but even though I mean that much to him, he still sits there reading those files, completely silent, while I stand here staring daggers between his shoulder blades--hoping, praying, wishing he would just stop and turn and say "Dick, we need to talk".
The End