Tim had been gone for five years. Five years of never seeing his family and friends, five years of isolating himself from everyone he cared about, five years of dodging Bruce's, Kon's, Cass's, and Ra's attempts at finding him. Dodging everyone's attempts, really. It was exhausting.

Hopping from city to city, town to town, trying to find the most secluded, out of the way place before realizing it was hard to blend in in places like that. Holing up in crowded cities and getting low-end jobs so as to not draw attention. Reading the papers religiously to make sure that he knew where Bruce Wayne was at all times and staying the hell away from those places. That one day when he was on his way to work and he froze in his tracks when he saw Kon flying above the city, scanning the crowds, and he had to go leave right then without even packing any of his belongings.

Not forming any attachments with anybody in the hopes that nobody would file a missing person's report. Thinking up name after name after name and having to remember them and respond to them like they were actually his. Wondering if he was even Timothy Drake anymore, or if that was always a lie.

Realizing that he felt empty and hollow, and that he couldn't handle living unless he was a vigilante. Forming a new alter ego, knowing that everything was okay because Batman had a Robin and that Robin didn't have to be him, and feeling alive for the first time in a year when he finally soared above the skyscrapers of his current city and saved the lives of its citizens. Knowing the difficulties of being a superhero without a Bruce Wayne budget. Getting shot in the chest and almost dying because he hadn't gotten his hands on some actual Kevlar yet, and having to pull the bullet out and sew it up himself without passing out because there was no Alfred in Lima, Peru.

After about three years, the searches for him dwindled down a bit, which Tim was grateful for, if not a little childishly disappointed in. Perhaps his family and friends had finally gotten the hint that he didn't want to be found. Or maybe they thought he was dead. Either way, it gave him more room to breathe, and he stayed in Lima for a while. Maybe too long.

Seeing one of Ra's ninja's searching the city and realizing that his new vigilante gig was getting a little public, and therefore having to fake his death and move to another city to start up again, because if Ra's found him then this all would have been for nothing.

It was Ra's he was running away from in the first place, trying to stay hidden long enough that Ra's leaves him alone. Gives up. Thinks he's dead. Until he actually is dead, perhaps, he didn't know. As long as Ra's couldn't get to him, then it was fine. The man was powerful, and he wanted something from Tim (Andrew, Juan, Brian, Andre, Akachi, Muhammad, Tina, Harry, Muhammad, Hunter, Mason, Muhammad, Han, Peter, etc., etc.), and Tim needed to get him off his back somehow. And if his family and friends knew where he was, then the Demon's Head would inevitably find out. So he made himself invisible, unfindable. And remained that way until he was sure it was safe to stop, or if it was never safe to stop, then he would never come out of hiding.

It hurt to think that, but it was simply the truth. He had committed himself to this, and he had to see it through. He was a danger to those around him, and he had to fix it. So he did.

Dick hadn't wanted to give up. Bruce hadn't wanted to give up. Alfred, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Jason, and even Damian hadn't wanted to give up. Kon had ranted to them about how he couldn't believe they were thinking of giving up. Bart had remained quietly disappointed. The Titans, who had long moved on and let another generation take over the tower, all fumed at them for even mentioning the idea of giving up.
But Tim had disappeared three years ago. Nobody knew what had happened to him. They found his tracker, carved out of his skin, in an abandoned warehouse in Gotham. No other trace of him was left there. He had left Red Bird, he had left his suit, he had left all his gear. He hadn't taken any belongings with him. It was like he had just secretly hopped a plane with just the clothes on his back. Whenever Bruce or Oracle got a lead on him it was a dead-end.

"Who, Juan? Hasn't shown up at work for weeks, Señor. Had to hire someone else. He in some kind of trouble?"

"Muhammad didn't talk much. Never went to the company get-togethers. I think he left town about a month ago, because he quit and then I didn't see him at all after that. Sorry."

Apartments, practically gutted they were so clean, where he had supposedly stayed. Not even a trace of DNA left.

The closest anyone had gotten was when Superboy had searched for him in New Zealand. Kon could have sworn he saw him, smelled him, heard him, something. And after they made sure that he wasn't in the city or any of the surrounding cities, and that they couldn't find any of his names on a public transport list or on store or gas station records, or that they couldn't spot him in any security footage, they found his apartment.

When Dick had seen it, it was enough to make him cry. He had flown in for the search, and the apartment was the last chance they had. It didn't give them a single clue as to where he might have gone, but it was more than enough to tell him he had been there. Thai takeout was in the fridge, next to cans upon cans of energy drinks. A coffee maker sat on the counter, still full of about six cups of coffee. An unmade bed, a messy desk with a laptop, a closet full of jeans and sweaters and comfy shoes. Sweatpants, shorts, and a Superboy t-shirt. A fucking Superboy t-shirt. Piles of newspapers with the locations of Bruce Wayne for the past six months and where he was going to be circled in red. A Star Trek poster on the wall above the bed. A simple sweep had Tim's DNA and fingerprints coating the place. Dick had sat down on the floor, grabbed a shoe that was lying by the bed, and just stayed there for hours, soaking in the echoes of Tim's presence. Superboy had come in a bit later, frustrated from looking for his friend, and sat next to him in silence.

That was over two years ago. They hadn't gotten nearly that close since. Hell, they weren't even getting any leads. Maybe... maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time to accept that Tim was gone from their lives.

Jason stopped asking for updates. Alfred looked like he wanted to say something, but eventually he didn't mention Tim's name anymore. Damian was immersed in his career as Robin and in his schoolwork. Barbara hadn't gotten the "Possible Red Robin Lead" alert in months. Bruce was losing hope. Kon was losing faith. Mentioning him was like mentioning someone who died. There was talk of putting up a statue in the Hall of Justice, but nobody would hear of it.

The search was cold. His presence was no more than a memory. Everyone sort of just... gave up.

Tim had gone to Brazil because he remembered his parents speaking highly of it. The people, the sights, the culture! Enrapturing, they had called it. Tim looked at it and thought, ...Well, there's certainly a lot of crime. He found a place in Fortaleza, which was not only one of the largest cities, but had a high crime index. He bought an apartment to hole up in and started a job as a bartender before putting together a new suit and superhero name, something discreet. He took the time to get some Kevlar, half-decent weaponry, and fell into a routine of eat, sleep, work, kick ass, repeat. He thought he was doing an okay job this time around.

Then one day he came across a kid. She was wandering around on rooftops taking pictures with her phone. Taking pictures of him, as luck would have it.

He noticed her while he was fighting off some muggers one night. She was sitting on a rooftop, and the slight snap of a shutter caught his already somewhat occupied attention. He glanced up and saw a small head peaking over the small rise at the edge of the roof, along with the top of a phone, which just kept snapping pictures.

That would not do, not at all. Not when he was trying to maintain a low profile. Had he really gotten noticeable enough that a kid was stalking him? Would he have to move again?
After the muggers were taken care of (a few broken ribs, lost teeth, and a concussion. Overkill, perhaps, but he was tired), he vanished into the shadows of the night and watched as the girl looked around in confusion, trying to find him.

She gave up after a bit and tucked her phone into her pocket, leaping onto a nearby roof and making her way south. Seemingly following the route he usually takes through the city. Well damn. She'd been following him for a while, then. He tailed her as she made her way through the city, thinking to himself that if she became a problem, he would have to move again. And he really didn't want to do that.