"Three backflips, grab the bar," Tim Drake grunted, his hands reaching out for a bar. "Twist the body," He said through his teeth. Each word was forced. "Kick the dummy," He stuck his leg out and successfully knocked the head off of a dummy. "Somersault in the air," He tucked his body in and spun once in the air. "And stick the landing!" He shouted, doing another back flip. His feet hit the floor and he stumbled backwards, unable to stop the motion. His body fell to the ground in an instant. He screamed, stood up, walked to the wall and punched it. His fist left a dent in the wall, about a foot away from where Dick had once punched the wall, and below where Jason had once done it as well.
Tim walked over to the bench and sat. He buried his head in his hands and squeezed the loose hairs that fell between his fingers. "Why?" He asked the air. "Why can't I do this?!" He asked louder. Hot tears spilled out of his eyes and pooled in his hands. "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this," He chanted over and over. He stood up and began pacing the room. "I'm not good enough. Dick and Jason were better robins then I could ever wish to be. I can't even do that freaking form right without falling. I'm a failure as a robin... I... I quit. I can't do this anymore," He shook his head at the empty threat. In spite of his words he knew he would never quit being Robin.
When he had first started the job, Bruce and Dick gave him one of the best pep talks he had ever heard. He remembered the moment clearly.
It was during his first vigorous training session. Tim had been working his butt off, and he didn't see any progress. He was frustrated and couldn't help the emotions. He expected Dick to sweep him off the training floor and whisper nice words to him. He also expected Bruce to be disappointed in him. Neither of these came true. Both of the men were very calm and watched him unravel and break. Tim had taken several hits to the face, ribs and legs. He also suspected a sprain ankle and wrist from the acrobatics.
He had cried and fallen to his knees. He threatened to quit and he just unraveled in front of his mentor and brother.
Bruce and Dick knelt in front of him. Dick began rubbing circles up and down the boy's back. Bruce spoke up, and the words he spoke would stay with Tim forever.
"Crawling is acceptable. Falling is acceptable," Tim had looked up at his mentor with a tear stained face. "Puking is acceptable. Crying is acceptable. Blood is acceptable. Pain is acceptable," the older man said with a small pause between each point. "But quitting is not."
Tim thought about those words every day. Every time things got rough and he didn't know if he could do something, he thought about those words.
Tim stopped pacing around the room and stared at the set-up. He let in a breath and exhaled slowly. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. "Quitting is not acceptable," He whispered to himself, before jumping up onto the mats. "Three backflips!" He shouted, throwing himself backwards with enough force to flip three times. "Grab the bar!" His hands made solid impact with the cold metal bar. "Twist the body," His body contorted to face the dummy. "Kick the dummy!" His leg stretched out perfectly and his foot made impact with the head of the practice dummy. "Somersault in the air," His body curled into a ball and spun once in the air. "And stick the landing!" His feet hit the ground. His knees did not buckle, and he did not fall backwards. The boys face lit up with joy. "I... I STUCK THE LANDING!" He exclaimed, jumping up and down in pure glee. He ran out of the room shouting the name of his brother and butler to tell them of his feat.
Bruce Wayne sat in front of his computer screen and smiled as he watched his son successfully complete the form. "Good job Tim, I knew you could do it."