I wrote this for Protagonistically on Tumblr... Sorry it has nothing to do with Doctor Who :/
I'm sorry Celticlily, please forgive me.
Batman would come for him, Batman always came for him. No matter what. He just had to be patient, wait it out and take whatever these people threw at him. He just had to forget about the pokers, the burns, the cigarette ends, the punches, the kicks, the internal and external bleeding, the knuckle dusters and the gun butts; because Batman was coming for him. How could he not?
They must have noticed, Batman sent him on this mission himself. They had to have noticed, he's Batman's Robin- was.
He was Batman's Robin.
He's not anymore, that's Damian's job- birthright.
He has no claim to it, he never has. He has no right to these people, this family. They are not his and he is definitely not one of them; not a Robin-
-You don't need it, he does-
Not a son-
-He has parents-
He doesn't fit, he's not right, he doesn't belong-
-What are you doing here Drake? I thought I told Pennyworth to take you out with the rest of the trash-
But Batman would come for him. Batman would tear through heaven and hell to find a Rob- a former Robin.
He's not a Robin, maybe that doesn't apply.
Batman saves a lot of people everyday, maybe he's just not meant to be one of them. But he waits anyway because- Batman will come for him, he knows it.
It's like a universal constant, it stays the same as hours turn to days and as days turn to weeks. Batman will come for him.
He just has to wait a little longer, be a little more patient. He's probably just doing something really important, something that requires most of his time. Expecting him to come right away is being selfish. Gotham's far more important than him, as long as it has a Batman and Robin, he can wait a little bit longer.
It's not like he has anything better to do.
Alfred was surprising quick to open the door "Master Richard what a pleas-"
He wasn't in a talking mood, he hadn't heard from Tim in days, he missed their brotherly bonding time the night before. They had had the date booked for weeks and Tim didn't show. Tim always shows, he's never late unless it's something Bat related or he is in mortal danger with no way out. Those two were usually explicitly linked. "Alfred, where is Bruce?"
"Upstairs in his study" he started storming up the stairs before Alfred had even finished speaking, slamming the door behind him, faintly hearing Alfred ask him to watch out for the priceless heirlooms before he barged into the main study, not bothering about knocking, or caring about slamming this door either.
"Where is Tim?" His voice was so on edge it was surprising that he could even get any words out.
Bruce looked up, utterly confused.
"Tim, Tim who?" Dick snapped, completely and utterly lost it.
"TIM WHO!? Tim Drake-Wayne" he stuck his arm out "yea high, child prodigy, current CEO of Wayne Enterprises, the man you owe your life to, ringing any bells yet?"
The look of realisation washing over Bruce's face was painful.
"Bruce; Where. Is. Tim?"
"He was on a mission two weeks ago, it shouldn't have taken that long, are you sure he's not at home?" That was almost Brucie like, nonchalant; his go to voice for difficult subjects he didn't wish to talk about.
"He didn't turn up to our brotherly bonding movie night last night. Where. Is. He?" At least this time Bruce looked up he had the common courtesy to look at least a little worried.
"I sent him to break up a drug cartel selling in Gotham. It was an undercover job, shouldn't have taken more than a few days"
"And you didn't think it was weird when you didn't receive a ten thousand word report from him detailing everything about it, down to the socks each member of the cartel wore?" Bruce's brow creased. That only happened if he was concentrating really hard or if he was extremely worried.
"I forgot all about it" him, Bruce forgot all about Tim. Tim who was currently suffering who knows what at the hands of a drug cartel. Tim who currently may not be alive, it's been weeks.
Drug cartels don't keep people alive this long.
The room was cold and bare. In it was a single hook, which hung a small silent boy with obviously broken arms. It took them a few seconds to determine if he was alive, no one could be in that amount of pain and still be silent. But alive he was, and silent he stayed, even as a draft blew though the small cell of a room making him shiver, and his arms jostle. Silent he remained.
The door creaked, and he looked up.
The boy's face was swollen, his skin covered in a mixture of dry and fresh blood, his clothes half torn off and covered in grime. He was totally unrecognisable until;
"I knew you'd come." Tim, it was Tim. The unrecognisable suffering boy was his son. The son who he left to this. The son he forgot about. His new failure.
"I knew it, they told me to give up, that you weren't coming. But I knew and I didn't. I didn't tell them anything. They wanted to know how I knew about them, who I was working for… But I didn't tell them.
"I did good right?" He could see all the emotions brewing underneath Nightwing's vigilantly mask, the anger the sadness the betrayal.
All directed at him.
He deserved it, he let this happen. He caused this.
Bruce had never before been so glad that he cowl hid tears. "Yeah Tim, you did good, sorry we took so long"
"Dossssnnn't matteerrr, you caaaammmme"
"Hey Tim, I need you to do something for me, it's really important, can you do something for me?" He waited for Tim's eyes to align wit his, for the small tire nod of his head as he tried to sleep. "You can't sleep just yet Timmy, I need you to stay awake, can you do that?" Tim nodded, grimacing slightly as they let him down from the hook and carried him out of his prison as quickly as they could.
They don't talk about it again.
They don't talk about the bruise Bruce is sporting the next day courtesy of Dick;a cartel member got a lucky shot in. They don't mention nothing absolutely nothing was going on it the couple of weeks up to Tim's rescue; cartel members were making him hard to find. It took them a while.
And they definitely don't talk about Bruce forgetting him; because he did, Bruce forgot his son, forgot the boy that saved his life, his family, his company. Bruce forgot the boy who has sacrificed so much for him. Bruce forgot Tim.
But they don't mention it because Tim can't know that they are no better than the family who left him behind, the family who regularly forgot him.
They can't break him again… They can't break him more than he already is, because they might not get their Tim back. Tim might realise that they were using him, that they didn't care as much as they should, that they weren't the perfect human beings he made them out to be.
Tim might realise that he deserved so much better than them.
But they didn't deserve Tim; smart, brilliant and funny little Tim, little Tim who hero worshiped them like they were the Sun, Moon and stars; how long will it take him to figure out that they weren't? How long will it take for him to leave without glancing back at the people whom he trusted to look after him, the people who used, abused and betrayed that trust until all that's left is a mangled body hanging from a hook in a frozen room? How long?