Hello all,
Strap in your seatbelts, because this is gonna be a long one. A long, hurtful, and fairly grim one, so don't be surprised. You've been warned.
Get ready to witness the loss of sanity.
And possibly, maybe you'll loose yours, too...
(cue evil laugh).
Enjoy!
Tim landed silently on the edge of the building. His padded shoes went completely unheard as he slowly shuffled to the other side of the building, where two dark and lone figures half stood, half crouched.
The smaller figure turned around quickly to Tim, startled and prepared to fight, but his stance softened to one of almost complete unvigilance when he realized it was only Tim.
"Timmy…" he said, approaching, "Maybe now isn't-"
"I need to talk to him now, Dick." Tim said softly, stepping around his eldest brother.
The building they were on was one in a remote and seclusive part of Gotham, and after many nights of patrolling, they found the building and surrounding buildings safe enough to use their actual names. But only on occasion, and only if they were absolutely sure the area was clear.
Tim approached the back of the still lone figure strongly, even though he mentally stumbled and shook. He had been a Wayne for a good many years, and yet the only people he really felt completely free around was Dick and Alfred. The two accepted him as he was. OCD-ridden, over rationalizing, over analyzing, and over calculating, included.
The tall and imposing man that stood before Tim... he was different.
As Bruce, he was tactical. He was open and free and unafraid to speak his mind. He was social and kind and wild and got along with everyone.
Tim was not like that. He was shy, secluded, and often without much reason, depressed.
Batman, on the other hand, was powerful. He was confident. He was scary. He was fear, and yet, he was also hope. Never had one hero become so many meanings to so many different people.
As Robin, Tim was none of those things either. He over thought every move he made. He second guessed every decision in his mind. He was brave in his own right, but he was first likely to think his way out of a situation, rather than fight it.
Both Batman and Bruce were the same man. But they were entirely different people, and Tim found himself referring to them separately often. There was Bruce the human, and Batman the hero.
His adopted siblings were like that, too. All so different in a mask and outside of it. Dick was appropriately more serious when he was under the mask. Though still a wise guy, a joker, and a bit of a show-off, he always kept his mission first and foremost. Oppositely, Jason was quieter and seriouser outside of his mask. He didn't speak much, unless a situation called for a sarcastic remark that he just couldn't hold in. On the other side of that spectre Damian was much more verbal outside of his mask. He felt that the hero side of him had nothing to say to anyone. He let his skills speak for him.
Tim was so unlike the other Robin's.
Dick could fight. There was no doubt about that. His background had given him a flexibility that surprised, astounded, and baffled hero's and villains alike. He could do almost anything to his body. And with that flexibility came his speed and strength. If he wasn't strong enough to take on a villain, he could certainly dance around them and tire them out until he could.
He was the good boy of the family, and both Bruce and Batman appreciated that lightness and dependability that he brought.
Jason had never competed for the good boy title, and after his dip in the Lazarus Pit, he'd made his own name for himself. Jason wasn't nearly as flexible as Dick, and he wasn't as good a fighter, either. But he was scary. Scary, and very serious. His new personality had gotten him a reputation that had few people questioning him.
That determination drew Bruce and Batman to him like a moth to a light.
Damian was the newest addition, and right off the bat, he wanted everyone to know that he was the only son with Bruce's actual blood in him. He was annoying and fierce, but a gifted fighter. Once he put his fists down and thought things through, he actually had a very analyzing head on his shoulders. His ability to observe others made him keen on reading his opponents well.
His calm disposition, even in the heat of battle, allowed trust to easily flow between him and both Bruce and Batman.
And then their was Tim. Shy, quiet, always screwing-up, Tim.
It was those traits that had him on this rooftop that night. It was why Dick was here, and not in Bludhaven. Whenever something like this happened, the eldest was called in, because if anyone could calm and talk sense into Bruce, it was Dick.
Dick watched on at this moment, watching as Tim carefully approached Bruce from behind.
"I came to apologize, Bruce" Tim said, his attempts at putting on a strong face and voice most likely obvious to both men listening on the roof.
Bruce said nothing, continuing to watch the streets below.
"I know I screwed up," Tim went on, when he got no response, "I was rash and I was stupid. I know."
"What you did was dangerous." Dick said, coming up behind him, "You could have gotten yourself killed."
"I know." Tim said, "But I- I don't know. I just got so focused. It's like I couldn't stop myself-"
Tim suddenly needed to defend himself, but his reasons for doing what he did was cut short when Batman tilted his head slightly to the side. Small movements like that spoke volumes in Batman-Lango.
That head tilt meant Batman was listening, but he didn't quite feel obligated to say anything yet.
"You have to learn to trust, Timmy." Dick said with a sigh. "Trust your partners, and trust yourself."
Dick's verbal speaking, while appreciated, made Tim tense. Why did Dick always have to speak for Batman and Bruce? Why couldn't they speak for themselves. Sure, they'd probably say something along the same lines, but it would have actually meant something to Tim if Batman had just turned around to at least look at him.
"Bruce, I'm sorry." Tim said, stepping closer to the Dark Knight.
Tim was well aware that Bruce wasn't "home" at the moment. But he spoke to the man, to his father, anyway.
"Dick's right." Tim said, turning slightly back to his older brother. "I hesitated, and I let that thug get away. And then I beat his partner senseless because I was angry at my own mistake. I should have just trusted you when you told me to wait outside, but Bruce, I always wait outside, and last night, I didn't want to be damage control. I actually wanted to be involved. You can't hate me for wanting to do more, right?"
Honestly, Tim's job hadn't been to simply wait outside. He'd actually been tasked with scouting for the thugs' friends. Oracle had reported four thugs, but the bat-family had only caught sight of two at the scene of the crime; the lead thief and his partner. While Batman lead the others inside the shop, Tim had found the third thug up on a fire escape, his gun pointed at anyone leaving the jewelry store they were robbing. One batarang later and he was out for the count. But when Tim saw both thieves getting away, he'd abandoned his job of finding the last thug to go after them.
One thief had gotten away and Tim had gone in on the one he'd caught. The last thief had apparently been hiding inside an actual apartment with his gun trained on Tim. When Batman, Red Hood, and Damian (who was in training and nameless at this point, still in his assassins outfit) came out the jewelry store to stop him from killing the man, the last thief had shot Jason in the arm.
Jason was most definitely planning on murdering Tim.
Batman had taken care of the thief in the apartment himself, but he hadn't said a word to Tim since.
So here Tim was, pleading with Batman to acknowledge him. Look at him. Forgive him. Anything. Even anger was welcome at this point, as long as Batman showed some form of emotion. Yet Batman sat motionless. Dick said nothing, though Tim could almost feel the telepathic urges Dick sent to try and get Bruce to speak.
At least 3 beats passed. Years. Several lifetimes. And then slowly, (slowly, slowly, slowly) Batman stood up straight. He did not fully turn around to Tim, but he tilted his head in his direction.
"Fine." Batman (not Bruce, because there was a difference) said.
Dick tsked at the poorness in that one word.
But Tim lost it. He snatched his mask off, the glue that kept it in place pulling at his skin as he peeled it away.
"Is it only through a mask that you can stand to look at me?" Tim asked, his voice raw, cracking and high with his anger. "I get it. I will never be as lovable as Dick. I will never be as strong as Jason. You will never love me like you love Damien."
"Timmy…" Dick began, his voice thick, like at any moment, he might cry (which really wouldn't have been a big surprise to Tim).
"But i'm still here, Bruce." Tim went on, his eyes welling, "No matter how much you don't want me, I'm still here. And I need acknowledgment too, just like everyone else. I need you to look at me and see me for once. See some good in me, and not just the bad."
Batman made no effort, or even a motion to suggest that he considered turning to fully face Tim.
The lack of emotion Batman showed was not at all surprising. Which is why Tim tried so hard to get through to Bruce. Bruce wasn't emotional either, but he at least had the freedom to be.
"Please." Tim begged after the silence. "Look at me!"
He rushed to Batman's side, pulling on his cape until he literally forced the man to look at him.
Why that was so important, he could not say. Maybe he wanted the man to see how sorry he was for losing control of the situation during that robbery.
But honestly, Tim felt that this apology was more than about what happened to those petty thugs. It was more about Tim as a person, and his always present feelings of neglect and unworthiness.
It was bad enough Jason and Damian believed he didn't deserve his role as Robin. But he couldn't take it if Bruce was to share the same sentiments.
"Speak to him!" Dick urged their mentor, when Batman only stared at Tim.
But Batman's silence was enough, and Tim could pour his heart out to a stone cold statue no more. He turned on his heels, sticking his mask back on, fled past his brother and leaped from the roof.
He shot his grappling hook off in a time so delayed that it made Dick's heart stutter.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Dick said, angry, when his brother was gone. "You needed to talk to him."
"You said what needed to be said." came Batman's monotonous voice.
"He needed to hear it from you. I don't know if you've noticed, but Tim isn't like the rest of us. He needs verbal encouragement, or he'll break. And you know that."
"You grew up just fine with just a few head nods and shoulder pats."
Dick marched up Batman, and in one swift motion, he yanked Batman's cowl back and off of his face.
"That's because I'm not afraid to pull off your mask." Dick spat. "I'm not afraid to see you cry."
Bruce wiped at his eyes slowly. There was something about Dick that just didn't make you ashamed to cry in his presence.
"He isn't like the rest of you." Bruce said, hanging his head slightly. "Nothing at all like you. Most of the time, though, a good thing."
"Why couldn't you just say that to him?!" Dick exasperated, "that alone would do wonders for him."
Dick sighed, "You can't keep brushing him off, Bruce. You're hurting him more than you know. And I can't just stand and watch him get hurt."
"Go and talk to him, then." Bruce said, pulling his cowl back up as his paranoia took over.
"You just don't get it." Dick sighed, "Do you understand that Tim thinks you don't want him? Do you understand that he's probably the way he is because of you. He's trying to be perfect for you, and it's killing him to fall short. He thinks you're disappointed in him."
"We should never stop striving for perfection."
Dick went through several quick successions of anger, all of which involved him flailing his arms at his mentor.
"No one's perfect!" he yelled, "Not me. Not you. And not him. But you've got him thinking that it's the only thing you'll accept and it's killing him. Do you hear me? You're killing him. I know you care. I know you'll sulk about it in the cave later. But for Pete's sake can you sulk together? Maybe then he'll actually feel worthy to fight crime. If he'd get you down off your pedestal, he'd see there wasn't much to live up to anyway."
Dick stormed off in search of his brother. He was harsh on purpose because the situation called for it. Batman sometimes needed a dose of his own medicine, but amplified 10 fold.
And while Dick wasn't done chewing the man out, Tim needed him more at the moment.
Prelude to Madness is the first part and chapter. It's fairly short to set the stage for the rest of the story. A lot of the story is done already, so stay tuned for the next update.
Cheers!
