This was a really hard fic to write, like I was so sad for poor little Timmy. Heaps of sad Tim and torture. I'm a huge fan of characters being broken completely but coming back even stronger, so the more I love a character the more I like to hurt them. And, judging from this story, I love Tim Drake a whole lot. Prepare for some heartbreak. I own nothing!

Bruce Wayne hated Scarecrow with every fiber of his being. Before, he just disliked the man. Heck, he even pitied him on occasion like most of the criminals he fought. But now it was just utter and complete loathing that Bruce felt towards the monster who had hurt his son.

Red Robin, Tim, was on patrol that night along with Batman and Nightwing. Dick covered the east side of Gotham while Bruce and Tim took care of the west side. It was an easy night, no more than a handful of rapists and muggers to apprehend. At least until Tim had been taken.

Bruce had only turned his back for a second, but when he looked back, Tim wasn't behind him anymore. There hadn't been a sound to alert him of anything unusual, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried calling Red Robin on his comm, but there was no answer. He contacted Nightwing to help him find Tim, and it had taken four hours, but they did eventually discover that Scarecrow had him. He was easy to track down, hiding out in an abandoned warehouse.

"Keep an eye out for Crane, he can be pretty unpredictable", Batman said. The two heroes were poised outside the building in wait for the opportunity to strike. There were five people in the building before them. Scarecrow stood in the middle of his henchmen, likely giving the three men orders or information. And there on the floor lay Tim, so small and fragile compared to the men who had him.

Thankfully he still had his mask and uniform on, but he was tied up and unconscious. That was odd, as it seemed as though besides a few cuts and bruises he looked unharmed for the most part. Why would Scarecrow kidnap him only to ignore him? The only thing that stood out was the odd expression on his face. Even in his sleep he looked scared.

Bruce pushed his thoughts aside and gave the signal to move in. The pair of vigilantes crashed through the window, immediately pouncing on the goons. It was child's play at best, another suspicious aspect of this situation. After kidnapping one of the bats, it was safe to assume that Scarecrow would invest in some better security in preparation for when the rest came for him. This was too easy.

Scarecrow didn't even try running away, instead smiling cheekily when Batman grabbed him by the collar. "What did you do", the Dark Knight growled.

Crane looked down at the boy on the floor, who had begun stirring. He smiled at Batman. "I borrowed him as a guinea pig for my new poison. It should be quite a show, as it's likely my best batch yet." His expression turned dark. "Let's see how the bird does now against his worst fears."

Bruce's eyes widened, and he punched the man in the jaw, knocking him out. At that moment Tim groaned from his position on the floor, sounding more sad than pained. Dick had already kneeled beside him and worked on untying the ropes that bound his arms and legs.

Bruce spotted a table on the far end of the room with several different chemicals and papers on it. He marched over to it, assuming it would have some info on whatever Crane had dosed Red Robin with. He examined everything for any information he could find. He could hear Tim's breathing picking up, whimpers emitting from his throat. His eyes were not yet open, rather shut tightly against whatever he was seeing.

"Red, are you alright?", Dick asked, brushing some hair from his brother's face. "Can you hear me?"

Tim's hands balled into fists and his breaths became ragged, getting shallower with each inhale.

Bruce meanwhile had found notes on the new substance and his mouth dropped open as he saw what had been used on Tim. He wished he had broken a few bones before knocking Scarecrow out, anything to cause him pain. He packed the papers into his belt and turned on his heel, sprinting to where Tim lay. He didn't look too good. Tim had curled himself into a ball on the floor with his hands cradling his head. His fingers dug into his scalp, deep enough to draw blood.

He muttered incoherent sentences, only half awake. "No... Stop... Let me go... Please..." He breathed in shuttered gasps between each word he spit through clenched teeth. His face was pale as a sheet and beads of sweat raced down his forehead.

"Bruce, what's happening?", Dick commanded, his worried eyes locked on Tim.

"Its a new fear toxin. Scarecrow designed it to target the one most horrible fear the victim can imagine and torment them with it, not stopping until their heart stops" The teenager gasped in shock.

"How do we-"

And that's when the screaming started. Startling them both, Tim's frightened whimpers became screams of agony, erupting from deep in his throat and ripping up with a piercing sound. He screamed, digging his nails into the sides of his skull as he shrieked.

Dick tried his best to calm him, but Tim was too deep into the nightmare to even acknowledge his presence. They couldn't even imagine what he was seeing. After the life he's had it could be any one of the traumatizing things he's lived through.

Bruce tried his best to take control of the situation and hauled Tim's small form into his arms. The screams had not quieted down, but became even worse as they were now laced with sobs and tears streaked down his face onto the kevlar of Bruce's batsuit.

Bruce ran him to the Batmobile as fast as he could. He carefully laid him down in the backseat and jumped into the driver's side. Dick slid into the backseat, holding Tim's head in his lap. He cringed with each wail Tim made, the piercing sound breaking his heart. Tim lay on his side in a ball with his hands around his forearms, probably bruising them with his grip.

Bruce called Alfred.

"What can I do for you, Master Bruce?"

"Alfred. I need you to get as much fear gas antitoxin as we have, now." He sped away, going at least 150 mph. Tim screamed again, making everyone jump. "And some sedatives too, though I doubt they'll work right now."

"What's happened?" Alfred asked in a worried tone. Clearly he could hear Tim's shrieks. Bruce doubted there was anyone in America who couldn't by now.

"Just get it. We're going to need as much as we can get, and set up the lab for when I get in." He clicked off the communicator.

As they drove Tim's voice became raspy from all of the screaming, but he did not stop.. He continued to wail, his cries sounding hoarse and grated. Dick kept smoothing his hair and whispering calming words in the hopes he could calm him down, but to no avail. It hurt him so much to see his brother like this. The strong front Tim Drake maintained at all times was gone, and all that was left was a scared boy.

It was a silent ride aside from Tim's pained howls. Neither Dick nor Bruce spoke, but they both flinched with each wail. What could Tim be imagining that would cause him so much agony? Bruce could only imagine that he was being tortured in the nightmare. That was the only thing he could think of that would cause this response. He wanted so badly to take his pain away, helpless to do anything but drive and imagine what Tim was hallucinating.

...

Scarecrow's goons had gotten the drop on him, all because he was too stupid to look out. That's what kept swirling through Tim's mind. Of course he would get captured as a result of his own stupidity, what else was new? He had been tied up, but he was already working on cutting through the bindings with a birdarang. The ropes were awfully thick, so he would have to work quickly. Scarecrow and his henchmen were discussing something about a test.

"We have him here, why not try out my newest masterpiece while I'm at it?", Scarecrow was saying. "Kill two birds with one stone- No pun intended."

"The Bat's not going to be happy about you practically killing his sidekick", the largest of the four said.

Crane shrugged. "He knows it's not personal. It was just good fortune that we stumbled upon the bird, and why not work with what we have? He'll be the perfect guinea pig", he said as Tim heard his footsteps approach the far wall. Something that sounded like glass clattered, probably some test tubes. Uh oh. He was going to use fear toxin.

Tim worked harder in fraying the thick rope, but he wasn't fast enough. Before he could think a thick long needle was unceremoniously stabbed into his neck, causing him to cry out. Scarecrow yanked out the syringe and chuckled darkly.

Already Tim's mind clouded. He could barely even feel his body anymore. His mind was swept away into the nightmare, and he found himself no longer in the warehouse.

He was in a room. An unfamiliar, uncomfortably small cell with no windows and no doors. It was dark, and he could barely see his hand in front of him. There was a glass wall that allowed him to see outside his cell, but all that was out there was another dark empty room.

Tim looked around, his mind running through multiple escape strategies. He had nothing but his uniform, so tools weren't an option. He realized he didn't even have his mask on anymore. There was also no vent or window through which he could escape or send for help. He was really trapped. Already feelings of claustrophobia spread through his body, and he tried his best not to panic.

Suddenly a light flashed on in the room opposite him. He squinted, blinking his eyes until they adjusted to the brightness. Once he was able to see properly Tim gasped. What he saw made his stomach drop like a brick.

There, lining the grimy brick wall was everyone. Everyone he cared about, everyone he had ever loved was there. Dick, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Cass, Damian, Stephanie, Barbara, Selina, Kon, Bart, Cassie, Ives, his dad, his mom, every single person he had ever cared about was there. They were all tied to chairs and covered in blood and wounds, dead. Tim stared upon the scene in shock and pain.

Gone. They were all gone, leaving him alone all over again. He had no one left. The sense of loss filled Tim with misery. The emotionless faces stared back at him and Tim knew he would never be able to forget them no matter how hard he tried.

Tim felt something deep in his soul break apart. He had to shut his eyes against the images, though the pale lifeless faces were forever imprinted in his mind.

And as if the fact that everyone Tim loved was dead wasn't bad enough, things still somehow found a way to get far worse. A loud booming voice filled his ears, sounding like it was coming from some invisible loudspeaker.

"You're weak."

His eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. Bruce. He looked up at the wall of bodies, but Bruce remained limp. He wondered where the voice came from before it spoke again. It echoed in his skull, seemingly coming from every direction with no single source.

"It was a mistake to make you Robin." The gruff voice caused a chill to run down Tim's spine. It was definitely Bruce's voice, but it rang with hate and disgust. "You're not a hero. You're a spoiled child who never should have been my partner. You failed. You failed then and you failed now. Damian is far better than you ever were."

Tim's heart felt like it was shattering. To hear these cruel words from his mentor, his father, he felt a silent tear slide down his face. "Let me out", be whispered, hoping against all hope that someone could hear him.

A new voice spoke. Stephanie. "I've always hated you. The only reason I even dated you in the first place was because of the pity I held for the stupid boy who had no control over anything in his life. You are pathetic", she spat.

Tim placed his trembling hands on the glass, his eyes wide with fear and agony. "Stop. Please, make it stop."

Conner came next. "You were never good enough to lead the Titans. You were barely good enough to be on the team in the first place. I've never actually liked you. You were just a gullible kid who was stupid enough to believe he could be a part of something."

Tim's hands shook and hot tears spilled from his eyes. His fists banged on the glass hard, trying in vain to break out of his prison. "Stop it! Let me out, please!"

The voices continued, a loud rumble of everyone at once, reminding him of every flaw and failure.

"You don't have what it takes to be a hero."

"You're just a replacement."

"You were always the worst Robin."

"Not good enough."

"Not smart enough."

"Not strong enough."

"No one loves you."

Tim's fists hit the glass repeatedly, his knuckles splitting and making blood spill down his hands. He didn't care, still focused on escaping the voices. His breaths quickened in pace, sounding more like hyperventilating than breathing. "Stop! Make it stop! Shut up!", he screamed. The insults continued bombard him, getting louder and louder with each passing second.

Pretty soon the only thing he could even think about were the yells of how awful he was. He dropped to his knees and clamped his hands over his ears, digging his fingernails into his scalp. He screamed against the harsh words. No matter what he did he could not silence them. If anything they rose in volume, absolutely deafening.

Each statement broke his heart like it was being smashed with a hammer. Tim screamed against them. He screamed to drown out the noise, to drown out his feelings, to drown out everything. His shrieking was nothing in comparison to the insults hurled at him.

It was like every insecurity he'd ever had was forced to the front of his mind, begging to be acknowledged. He couldn't think of a time when he felt worse of himself, and he wanted only for everything to stop. He wanted to have someone with him to take the pain and anguish he felt away.

"Make it stop! Make it stop please! I can't take it! Just kill me, please, just make it stop!", he wailed. He curled himself into a ball and continued to cover his ears, despite it doing nothing to protect him from the venomous words. His screams were howling sobs, and he wanted nothing more than for the darkness to swallow him whole and erase the pain he felt.

He was pathetic. He was worthless. He was weak. He wished for anything to save him from this torture.

The worst was Bruce. His deep voice was the most prominent, and also the most heartbreaking. "You have always been a failure. You're not Robin. You're not a Wayne. You're not my son."

Tim screamed.

...

Bruce had set about creating an antidote the second he entered the batcave and placed Tim on the cot. Tim's screams had stopped once his throat was too raw to make any noise any more, but the sobs were far worse.

Nobody had seen Tim cry in years. Even if something unbearably horrible had happened, Tim always hid his tears in front of others. He maintained an emotionless mask whenever he was around his family, which only made this situation so much worse. His sobs were laced with suffering and his face was damp from the tears. He continued to cry, curling up into a ball on the cot.

Bruce had given him multiple sedatives, but this form of fear toxin negated if them all. There was nothing they could do to stop the nightmare until Bruce figured out a cure.

Bruce worked at his computer, doing research on the notes he'd taken from Scarecrow's desk. He poured over the information in the hopes of creating an antitoxin. It's already been hours, but he didn't pause for a second. He had called the police from the car, so Crane should be on his way to Arkham by now. If only Scarecrow were here now. Bruce needed to take his aggression out on someone and beating up the monster seemed preferable.

Each sob from Tim carried across the Batcave and Bruce felt like he was being struck every time. Dick had had to restrain Tim earlier because he was causing damage to himself as he flailed around and dug his nails into his skin. It hurt Bruce to see Tim like this. The strong teenager he knew who had been to hell and back and always came stronger was now a scared boy, alone in his pain.

Dick stayed by his side, holding his hands and whispering comforting words. Alfred entered the room with some tea on a tray.

The older man sighed at Tim's small form. "How is he?"

Dick didn't look away from his brother. "Not good... I can't even imagine what he must be seeing right now. He sounds like he's being tortured...", he choked.

Alfred shook his head sadly and tried his best to maintain his usual guise as he brought the tray over to Bruce, who merely shook his head, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"Have you figured anything out yet?"

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Partly. This formula is much different from Scarecrow's other ones. It's designed to not let up for a second until the victim is dead, so it won't wear off until I finish. I don't know what will happen if we use the cures for his other poisons, since this one is so different. I'm afraid to try them on him."

"Maybe you need a break to gather your thoughts."

Bruce shook his head and turned back to the computer. "No. Any time I waste will only hurt Tim further."

Their heads snapped up when the sound of Tim's heart monitor began beeping erratically, adding to the sound of his crying.

Dick looked up in horror as Tim unleashed another hoarse scream and thrashed in his bindings. Bruce ran over and checked the monitor.

"He's going into cardiac arrest."

"Why?" Dick asked, holding Tim's hand in a vice-like grip.

"The toxin is designed to scare someone to death. The intense emotions are affecting his brain and causing his heart to fail. Alfred, get me an oxygen mask."

Tim's breathing had picked up and become quick short gasps. Bruce put the received mask over Tim's face.

"Can't you give him the antitoxin now? He can't take much more", Dick said, his voice wavering with panic.

"I haven't finished it yet, it could do more harm than good."

"Clearly that's our only option, Bruce! Just give it to him; he can't get any worse." Dick held onto Tim's shoulders to hold him still.

"If it doesn't work he could-"

Tim's heart flatlined.

"No!" Dick started doing CPR. "Get the antidote now!", he ordered.

Bruce hesitated for a split second, but he did as ordered and grabbed a syringe from the desk. It was the one closest to the toxin in Tim's system, but still different enough to cause more harm than good if it didn't work.

Regardless, he ran over to Tim, pushing Dick's hands aside and stabbing Tim in the neck with the needle. Dick went back to doing compressions and Bruce stepped back, staring unblinking at the monitor. Besides the heartbeats forced by Dick's hands there was no change. Dick paused for a moment from his compressions, watching the monitor carefully for anything. After what seemed like hours, the monitor's even beeping started again. Tim's heart was working again. All three men let out huge sighs of relief.

"Thank God...", Dick breathed. He went back to Tim's side while Alfred checked over Tim's condition.

"He seems to be alright now. Whatever that serum was it worked, Master Bruce. Everything is normal. I can presume the fear gas is no longer affecting him?"

Bruce nodded breathlessly. "I think so, Alfred. On normal fear gas it stops the hallucinations, so I'm hoping it's the same with this one. He looks like he's sleeping soundly, so it must have worked. All we can do now is wait for him to wake up", he answered.

Alfred nodded with a pleased smile gracing his features.

"But", Dick started, "What about after that? He's been trapped in the worst nightmare of his life for three hours. I can't even imagine what he saw, what he went through. What about the lasting effects? Will he be okay?"

Bruce shook his head and said, "I honestly don't know. He could wake up and not remember anything, or he could..." He turned back to his son's sleeping face. "It could be bad."

Dick looked back at his brother sadly. He hoped to God that whatever torture Tim had imagined would be forgotten. He hoped Tim could live in blissfull ignorance and forget the entire night ever happened. He couldn't bear to think about what it would be like if he didn't.

...

It was exactly half an hour later that Tim woke up. Alfred was cleaning upstairs in the manor- likely using it as a distraction- and Bruce was out as Batman. He claimed it was because he wanted to make up for the time lost caring for Tim, but really he just needed to take his feelings out on some deserving criminals. He wasn't good at standing around and waiting. He needed to be doing something productive or he'd go crazy with anxiety.

Dick was fast asleep in a chair next to his sleeping brother, waiting for him to awaken. He had been holding Tim's hand for hours and had not planned on letting go anytime soon. Tim shifted, groaning quietly as he did. His throat was incredibly sore, like he'd been drinking nothing but liquid fire and hot sauce. He tried rolling over only to find that his wrists and ankles were bound to the bed. He was only relaxed by the sight of his brother next to him and the warmth of Dick's hand in his.

Dick was still unaware he was awake. He wondered what Dick was doing at his side, and what had happened to cause this amount of worry. His head hurt greatly and he could feel dried tears on his face. Not to mention the soreness in his throat or the scratches he felt on his arms. What happened...?

Then like a truck slamming into a brick wall he remembered. He remembered everything from Scarecrow to the bellowing verbal assaults from his family and friends. He remembered screaming and begging...

He once again felt the torment and anguish that struck him with every insult. Everyone he had ever loved had reminded him of everything he'd ever done wrong, of every mistake, of every flaw...

He started hyperventilating, trying to relieve his mind from the images and emotions that flashed again and again. Lifeless bodies... A small cell with nowhere to go and no way to escape... The feeling of self-loathing and nothingness...

Tim tried to free himself from his bonds but was helpless against them. His whimpers and movements startled Dick from his slumber. Tim was awake, and unfortunately it seemed he remembered everything. Oh no.

"Tim! It's okay calm down. You're safe, just relax it's okay." He loosened the straps on Tim's extremities as quickly as he could.

The second he was free Tim reached out and grabbed onto Dick, holding him in a strong grip that would probably suffocate a smaller person. His arms wrapped around Dick and his fingers dug into his shirt, reassuring himself that Dick was here and with him. He pressed his face into Dick's chest and cried with both relief and lingering trauma.

Without skipping a beat Dick wrapped his arms around Tim as well and held onto him just as tightly. "Its okay now, Tim. You're fine. It was just a dream. You're here and you're okay", he soothed. "Whatever happened can't hurt you anymore."

Tim hiccupped into Dick's chest and his muffled voice whispered, "It was h-horrible..."

Dick rubbed his back in comforting circles, urging him to go on. Talking about it would help. Tim, though, didn't go any further, instead biting his lip and holding onto Dick like his life depended on it.

They held each other like that for some time, Tim releasing the occasional barely audible whimper. It wasn't long before the sound of someone entering the Batcave could be heard. Bruce walked in, his Batman costume on and his cowl down.

The second Tim saw him he wrestled his way out of Dick's arms and ran over to his adoptive father. He crashed into the older man and hugged him around the waist even tighter than he'd been holding onto Dick.

Bruce was surprised at first. Part of him was relieved that Tim was awake, but the other part worried about what kind of horrible things he'd seen under the gas' influence. He heard Tim murmuring in a rough voice "Please don't leave me again. Please don't throw me away, I promise I'll try harder. I'll be good enough. Please don't leave me alone."

Bruce felt like crying at the thought of how much his son suffered today.

Bruce carefully lifted Tim into his arms, which was quite the accomplishment with the way Tim held into him like he was afraid that if he let go he would fall, and maybe he would. Bruce carried him back to the cot, sitting down as well when Tim whimpered at the thought of Bruce leaving him. Tim continued to grip his sleeve, needing something to remind him that Bruce was real and actually with him. He could still see his lifeless face... He shut his eyes against the memory.

It was clear how tense the boy was. All Dick and Bruce could do was wonder how he felt, as he still hadn't exactly told them just what the gas had made him see. Bruce didn't want to ask, but he knew he would have to find out what happened while it was fresh in Tim's mind. He was certain Scarecrow planned on using it again, and Bruce would rather be prepared if that should happen.

He spoke softly and asked, "Tim, how are you feeling?"

Tim only shook his head, but Bruce could assume that meant pretty bad.

"...Could you tell me what you saw?"

Tim flinched against the onslaught of memories, but Bruce knew it would be better to get answers now. "Tim?"

The boy drew his knees up to his chest and gave a long shuttering sigh. He hesitated before finally speaking. "It was you. All of you. All b-beaten and killed and I couldn't- I couldn't do a-anything... I was all alone and I c-couldn't..." He hiccupped as fresh tears fell from his eyes, and Bruce felt his heart breaking.

He'd until then assumed by Tim's earlier reactions that he was being tortured in the dream. He'd never considered that it was the people Tim cared about who were the victims. After the losses in Tim's life one would have assumed he'd be used to losing people by now, or at least better able to handle it. It hurt Bruce to know what Tim feared most was being alone.

Tim's voice cracked when he spoke again. "A-and that wasn't even the w-worst part. I... There were all of these v-v-voices. All of you guys, telling me I was worthless. Telling me I n-never should have been R-Robin. I c-couldn't hear anything else but the sounds of everyone t-telling me I wasn't g-good enough." Tim choked on a sob, and his fingers tightened in the fabric of Bruce's sleeve.

Dick laced his fingers through Tim's on his other hand and stroked it with his thumb. "It's okay now, little brother. You're safe now."

Tim nodded, still looking down with glistening eyes.

Bruce thought before turning to Dick and speaking softly, "Maybe you could ask Alfred to make some hot chocolate?"

Dick looked back at Tim in concern before nodding and getting up, walking towards the exit that led to the rest of the manor in search of Alfred.

Once Dick was out of sight Bruce looked at Tim's sorrowful face, wet with fresh tears. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he said, "I'm sorry, son. I should have gotten there sooner. Scarecrow should never have had the opportunity to take you if I had you're back like I'm supposed to. We're supposed to be partners, and I failed you. I'm so sorry, Tim, and I'll never forgive myself for what you went through tonight."

Tim sniffled and his face attempted to form what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but all he could manage was a slightly less agonized frown. Still, he sat up and moved closer to Bruce until he was leaning against his father's chest. Bruce instinctively clutched him in a strong embrace and lay his cheek on Tim's hair. They didn't speak again, instead just sitting in silence and listening to the other's breathing.

It wasn't long before Tim was asleep from exhaustion in Bruce's comfortable embrace. Bruce watched his face, admiring how strong his son was. It would take some time, but he knew that Tim would be okay. He would recover and be even stronger than before, because now Bruce would make it his mission to remind Tim every day of how loved and valued he was until he finally starts to believe it.