"He didn't mean it," is the first thing out of Dick's mouth when Tim meets his gaze in the mirror.
Tim snorts and looks down at the sink in front of him. He tells Dick, "Sure he didn't."
His hands are raw from how hard he'd scrubbed them, and the tap is still going, and Tim only barely manages to not rip the faucet out of the sink by sheer force of will. His actions are carefully controlled. Tim turns off the tap, and then he turns to finally face Dick.
It's been a long time since he's seen Dick—really seen him, and with one glance at the dark circles that shadow his blue eyes and the worry lines that Tim is pretty sure weren't there a few months ago. He looks old. World weary. In a way that Tim never thought Dick could be.
It doesn't dissipate Tim's anger, though.
"He didn't," Dick insists. He's quiet. Calm. His blue eyes are far duller, just a hint of that old spark in his eyes.
The cowl is sucking the life out of him. Damian is sucking the life out of him. The fact that Dick still believes that Bruce is dead is sucking the life out of him. He has no hope that Tim will find Bruce and bring him back, and he's got this stupid notion that Damian needs Robin more than Tim ever did, and Tim thinks that he's never been angrier or more lost in his entire life, and he doesn't understand why Dick is doing this to himself. To them all.
"Right. Of course," Tim hisses. "He didn't mean it at all. It's not like he's the one in the Robin uniform right now. It's not like he's tried to kill me before."
"He's scared," Dick tells him. "He's scared that you're going to upset what he's managed to build here, Tim, and no matter how many times I tell him that you're both my brothers, he—"
"Are we?" Tim cuts him off.
Dick blinks, his mouth hanging open. It takes a moment, but he finally asks, "What?"
"Are we both your brothers?" Tim demands, hands gripping the counter behind him. He keeps eyes on Dick's bewildered gaze. "Because last time I checked, brothers don't kick you out—"
"I never kicked you out, Tim," Dick snaps, but Tim's not having it.
"—and give their costume to next random kid that shows up on the manor doorstep!"
"He's Bruce's son!"
"Yeah? Well so am I!" Tim yells, taking a step forward. "If Bruce were here, he wouldn't have-"
"Bruce isn't here!" Dick cries out, his face scrunching up as he takes a step forward, and Tim recoils. Dick keeps going, "Bruce isn't here, Tim! Whether he's dead or missing or whatever, he's not here, and I am! I'm the one with the cowl, and Damian needed a reason to stay, and I did what I could!"
Tim's anger anchors in his stomach again before it spills out in his words like venom. "So you gave him Robin?! You gave him my entire purpose for living?!"
"You don't need Robin, Tim!" Dick's arms rise and fall, like he's exasperated. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you didn't need it! Not the way Damian does right now!"
"So that's it?" Tim asks. "You have the final say for who gets what uniform? For someone who doesn't want to be like Bruce, you're sure acting a lot like him."
Dick's expression turns thunderous, and it looks wrong on his face. Like he's a completely different person. And for all that Tim's been around Dick and his infamous temper, he's never seen a look like that directed at him. It makes his heart skip a beat and his breath catch and his eyes widen. He looks terrifying.
Dick seems to catch himself, though, because his face goes blank, and his eyes flick to the mirror behind Tim and then back to Tim's face.
"When you want to sit down and have a calm conversation," Dick says, his voice back to that gentle calm, "I'll be down in the bunker with Damian. For now, you're welcome to help yourself to anything here."
And with that, Dick's sweeping out of the bathroom, and Tim feels the tension in his shoulders tighten.
Dammit. Dammit. This hadn't been what he'd been aiming for when he'd come here.
When Tim looks up again after a moment, he's startled when he meets bright green eyes. Tim takes an instinctive step back and forces himself into a state of calm. Whatever Damian is here for, he'll be ready.
Except—Damian looks almost ashamed. Worried, too. It's not for Tim, though.
"I didn't mean it," Damian whispers without preamble. "And I apologize for my words."
And with that, Damian's gone, and Tim's alone, and he's never, ever felt more lost than he does right now in this moment. God, he needs to find Bruce, and fast. Otherwise, he's afraid he's going to lose his goddamn mind.