Disclaimer: I do not own the Bat Clan. Yeah, it sucks.
Body Language by larissa
Based on this headcanon by incogneat-oh: Tim says "I'm fine" like other people say "help me".
"You'll never know the way it tears me up inside to see you
I wish that I could tell you something to take it all away"
She doesn't think he notices it. She doesn't think anyone notices it, really.
After all, the people in this family have all their little ways of communicating or hiding their real intents, as if covering their emotions is this really big necessity, even – sometimes specially – when it's among themselves.
Cass tries not to let it affect her, since it's not as if her brothers have something against her, in particular. They are just so used to putting up walls, it must be hard to let go of the concept of lies and deceit. She can understand that, of course.
Still, when the woman drops her hands to the counter, watching as Tim drinks his coffee while Dick and Bruce seem to lose themselves in conversation, it's all she can do not to sigh in exasperation.
She can read them. Better than anyone, maybe even themselves, can. She can read how Richard's shoulder bothers him because of the injury from last night, even if it does nothing to change the boy's humor (nothing seems to ever change the boy's humor). She can read how Alfred is thinking of going to Tim's apartment while he's still in the manor by the way the butler stops every few seconds to glance at Tim and, then, at the cleaning apparel gathered around the corner.
Even Bruce. She can see the way he leans forward as he talks to Dick, but how his hand remains on the edge of the counter, turned to her. He wants to give her attention, because he misses her presence with the others, but he can't just ignore the rest of his children. So, you see, it's easy enough to recognize the signs when you've had time to learn the little tells of everybody's body.
This is all very good. Nothing out of extraordinary, just the normalcies of breakfast with a family like theirs.
But they hadn't been the ones to alert Cassandra.
Tim sits sipping at his beverage from time to time, reading the newspaper with a concentration that is very much him. His body inclines away from the others, distancing himself from Dick and Bruce as much as possible. His neck must be bothering him, too, because he rolls his head every few minutes, and there is something in the way he blinks a bit more slowly when doing so that makes Cass think he isn't getting much sleep.
Tim has always worried her.
She thinks it must be because he was the robin when she became batgirl and she'll always have a special place in her heart for that little boy who thought too much and still found a way to stumble over words when he finally decided to speak. It doesn't actually matter why, but he is her little brother and she would do anything for him.
So, she worries.
Cassandra knows that he is becoming more and more like batman, like her. She also knows it is not something the boy has ever wanted for himself. It makes her wonder what might have happened to change his mind, or if the change was something he didn't notice and didn't know how to escape from.
There is exhaustion in his movements and anxiety in the corner of his mouth. She can tell Tim is thinking about the report he couldn't finish the previous night and how he will have to cancel whatever plans he has today in order to prepare everything on time. There are other things, other pains, that she can't even begin to analyze, but she sees it all, in spite of how much he tries to hide it.
It hurts her a bit, that he thinks he can hide that sort of thing from her.
Yet, Cassandra knows she is not supposed to feel offended by this, for the deceit doesn't seem to be aimed at her. She half expects Tim to have not realized how terrible he truly feels, how much sorrow he carries inside.
She doesn't understand the reason behind it. Maybe it's his past, his grades, his insecurities. Maybe it's the fact that he is turning into Batman without even realizing, and that he is fighting with all his strength to maintain the bonds that make him Tim, and that he is losing. She doesn't know. She won't pretend to, because she is no good with this sort of emotional stuff. Even worse in putting them into words.
The woman fears that, if she ever does question his dissimulation, it will only result in more lies.
Because that is what he is doing; lying. Tim is living and breathing his lies, and Cass fears for him.
He is supposed to be the one with more to him than the secret identity or the "mission". It takes her everything not to reach out and knock him over the head for his stubbornness, because, when it comes to theirs jobs as vigilantes, Tim was always on that brink of interest and obsession. It used to be his biggest strength; having the drive to do it all, seeing the line, but never crossing it.
The woman remembers several times when his rational thinking would pull Bruce out of his never ending fixation, or when he was able to comfort Dick after a failure. She can close her eyes and imagine the feeling of his touch on her shoulder or the pride in his eyes as they talked and talked into the night. He is logic and he is emotion.
After Barbara and Stephanie, Tim was always the one to push her into trying to be something more than Batgirl. He agreed that a normal life and their secret could be difficult things to balance, but he'd thought it worth the trouble and reveled in her small accomplishments.
Cassandra wonders if he still would, or if he'd just brush her off, too busy and too preoccupied with more important things to give attention to his sister.
It's the first time, she realizes, that she has seen him without his costume since she came home.
The idea is horrifying and Cassandra stares at her hands for a moment, trying to control her expression before looking back at him.
"Tim?" He pulls his eyes away from the paper, fixing her with a puzzled look. She hesitates; hesitates on her wording, hesitates on her actions. "Is everything… Okay?"
The boy blinks. His blue eyes are liquid, she thinks, because they move in a way she has never seen, and they are of such a pale color it almost feels like being stared at by emptiness itself. They have attracted Bruce's and Dick's attention, though, and she can predict by the swirl of his eyes that Tim knows she has realized something about him, but that he won't say anything about the subject.
"I'm fine, Cass."
He tries to be gentle in his smile and it seems to fool the others, but there is finality in his tone. It makes her feel worse than ever, to know that he won't talk to her about it. It doesn't matter much, she was never one to give up once she got a new intent.
Really, even Cassandra, who is never able to catch the drifts and slips in other people's words, can tell what the boy hides behind his ridiculous attempt to divert her concerns.
Because Tim says "I'm fine" like other people say "help me".
I think this is the saddest I can get when writing Tim Drake, because I just want him to be happy so freaking much, the idea of him angsting breaks my heart. Since Doctor Who had already put me into a glass case of emotion, I decided to finish what it started and ended up with Tim Drama. Again, the headcanon is from the amazing tumblr of incogneat-oh, go check it out if you're batfam obsessed like me. The song up there is Save you by Simple Plan.