Based very loosely on the story of Joseph in Genesis.

He did not know what he had done to deserve this. The spiteful mocking, the more than harsh glares, the almost abusive pushing and pulling, what had he done to be thrown in a cave, just off their property, by his own brothers? Tim couldn't comprehend a situation like this, where he was left alone in a cold dark cave and the only sound he could hear was water dripping slowly off stalactites that he couldn't even see. He couldn't understand why his brothers had just left him, suffocating in the lonely darkness with invisible creatures snapping at his clothes that were already torn from the fall.

With each passing second Tim gave up that little bit more; originally he thought it had been an accident, that his brothers hadn't meant to push him so hard that he fell, that they were just joking around. But they left. And Tim found his hope evaporating into the cool air of the damp cave.

By the time it was cold enough that he could see his breath, if there was any light, he had given up completely. He was going to die here in this vast empty cave, either of hypothermia or starvation, he was going to die, and no one was going to know.

What would his father be told?

Perhaps that he had fallen over the cliffs and been swallowed up by the sea; never to be found... It would certainly explain the lack of a body; Tim just hoped he wouldn't spend too much time mourning, there were more important things to be doing.

He didn't wake up when the end of the rope hit the cave floor, the sound resonating loudly throughout the cavern, and he didn't wake up when to the, not so whispered, whispers of

"Is he dead?" And

"Is it too late? Did we leave him too long?"

He did however wake up when the rope, that one of them had obviously come down and tied round his waist, started to painfully pull him jerkily out of the cave.

Even in the pale moonlight he could tell that his fingers were blue, and he couldn't feel them. At all. Not even pins and needles.

He was hypothermic, the signs were there, he couldn't feel, his body was mostly unresponsive to any effort to move, and the movements that were there were slow and sluggish.

But he was wrong, they didn't just abandon him. It was all an accident, a misunderstanding. He had never been so happy; the probably just had some trouble finding a long enough rope.

Tim smiled at them through his shivering when he was finally out of the hole. "Dick, Jay, I- I know you'd come back for me..." A low growl escaped Jason's lips,

"Shut it squirt" pain erupted through his cheek, splintering into his jaw, and sending him reeling backwards. He was expecting a hug, maybe an apology, but he was not expecting a backhand to his cheek,and he definitely wasn't expecting it to come from Dick. The man who would always hug him and ruffle his hair, the man who made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, the reason for his huge grin most days.

"How much for him?" Jason beckoned to the shadows. Strange men appeared from the shadows, poking and prodding him, grasping his chin firmly, turning his head to inspect his neck, opening his mouth to look at his teeth, cupping his crotch painfully to assess his his worth, before turning to each other in silent consideration.

"Fifty thousand"

"Deal" and they all shook hands briefly before Tim was bing man handled to their carriage.

"Dick? Jay? What's going on? Who are they?"

"..."

"Please, Dick, Jason, please. Don't let them take me!" He didn't care how broken he sounded, Tim just wanted to go home; to sit in his father's lap as he showed him what he had been studying and drink Alfred's hot chocolate with his family.

"Sorry little brother" Dick didn't should sorry at all, the spite and rejection in his voice plain for all to hear "A deal's a deal"

"Do try to be a good little slave" Jason smirked as he clutched the money bag. The two of them turned and walked back towards their house, not even glancing back at the brutal way Tim was bound, gagged and thrown into the back of the carriage, and as it started to move Tim didn't know which was worse; dying alone in a cold dark cave, or being sold as a slave by his brothers.

He had only sent his children to get supplies from town, some more paper, ink a couple more quills... It should not have taken the whole day, and being the overprotective father that he was, Bruce was starting to worry.

He truly does not know what he would do without them. All his children were special to him, they were all amazing and gifted; but especially Timothy, his quite, brilliant, studious nature reminded him of his dear, not long departed wife: Selina.

It was true that maybe he was far too protective of Tim, not yet fourteen summers old, because where he let his elder brother go out on their own, there always had to be someone with Tim; someone protecting him. He's been a frail little boy since birth; not at all like Richard or Jason, who were strongly built and imposing, Tim's the baby, he needs protecting.

At least that's what he tells himself when Tim wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, recovering from one of his dreams, the ones that come to him, the ones that he never talks about, the ones that make him barricade himself in his room for sometimes weeks on end.

It's the only thing Bruce can't protect him from; and it hurts. Because the dreams- the nightmares- come so often, so frequently that even Bruce has a hard time keeping up.

"Master Bruce" Alfred, his devoted butler and pseudo father, stood in the door way to his study, his had tears in his eyes and a tremble to his hands that he hand only ever seen once before, and he has never run faster.

But when he sees his two eldest sons in the entrance hall, alone, Tim's torn satchel slung over Dick's shoulder, he stops dead and his knees betray him to the stone cold hard floor.

"Father, we're sorry, all we found was this"