"Tim, come eat, or so help me, I will drag you by the scruff of your neck," Selina threatened, an imposing figure shadowed in the training room doorway.

He didn't want to stop. After waking the day after his first heist, alternate versions of the previous night ran unchecked through his mind. In most, he found himself locked away after being bested by the remaining Bat clan. So many things could have turned South and he'd been too careless before, too unrestrained. For the last week, he'd been scrimping on everyday living in favour of improving his skills further.

Grudgingly, Tim followed her order, sulking the entire way.

Half way to the dining hall, Darin began his traditional ritual of attempting to trip Tim while his legs felt like after workout jelly. While he was fond of the feline currently weaving between his feet, irritation crept up into the back of his throat like bile. Affection overrode any annoyance as he paused and bent to pick the ragdoll up. As soon as Darin was nestled comfortably in Tim's arms, the cat went completely limp, purring contentedly. Absently, Tim stroked just behind Darin's ear. He got a hiss when he gently set Darin down. The cat strutted away, a rather pompous air following him.

"Darin is such a diva," Tim commented off handedly, taking his seat.

Pan seared salmon with mixed greens and fruit salad: delicious. Tim couldn't help but lick his lips, completely missing the knowing smirk gracing Selina's continence. She was all too cognizant of how Tim had changed in just these past few months. He'd been a sulking, brooding mess of a teenage boy, too much like Bruce for her comfort. Time and again, she would stalk the young Bat. To watch one so young continuously advance deeper into mourning and melancholy had been too much: Selina had to act.

While he hadn't improved much, she could still sense the shift. Tim never really smiled, or laughed, or went to hang out with others his age. He stuck to himself mostly, saying the minimum necessary and occasionally allowing himself a moment of immaturity. Darin shared more frequent heart to hearts with Tim than Selina was allowed, but he was talking and that was enough for her. She knew how comforting a silent, steadfast companion could be, especially when one was allowed to cuddle the bundle of fur.

For weeks, Tim went about the average routine of any ordinary boy his age. He attended college and attempted to pay proper attention to the lessons. Twice a day, he would make chit-chat with Mrs. Garrison, a lovely old lady he sat next to while riding to campus. Rarely resting for more than four hours a night, he visited the Starbucks just a few blocks down the road, nestled between his favorite café and park. The mundaneness of it all became to wear him thin. Though he told Darin as much, the feline offered no advice other than snuggling further into Tim's lap.

He could not have been more relieved when Selina invited him on another late night excursion. While he still wasn't terribly fond of following through with a heist, he needed to get out and do something: shed himself. After being a Bat for so very long, anything less than last-night adventures left him feeling weighted down and devastatingly bored. There was only so much coding a boy could do before even that lost its luster.

That night, they suited up and repeated the late night ritual of languidly infiltrating Gotham's classy uptown. Tim Drake took up his position in the rear of Catboy's mind, constantly vigilante but surrendering most control. Catboy slunk through the shadows, twining round obstacles with a fluidity that would likely make even Dick jealous, not that he wanted to think on that particular jerk.

As usual, things were blessedly quiet. From quick glances to the roof terraces, Catboy could detect no hint of any Bats out and about. Catwoman had insisted on going on ahead, claiming she wished to snag a present for Tim before he could get a glimpse of the gem. He'd shrugged carelessly and found himself an unused window to perch upon. Figuring he'd given her enough time, Catboy slid from his resting place and crept into the soon to be ravished jewelry store. Through the entry way, things seemed deplorably boring. Coming into the main show room, the hairs on the back of Catboy's neck stood on end.

Before him, Catwoman lazily strolled about the glass cases with a hand gliding over the smooth surface. Three Bats, Dick, Damian, and Jason, were poised for an assault. While Catwoman didn't bother to glance his way, the Bats did and Catboy's blood went cold. All three of them would be much more difficult to fend off than just two. Much more difficult.

"Oh lookie, it's the little kitty cat," Jason taunted, Damian snickering behind him. "You look like your milk soured."

The cat puns really got old after the, oh, first one.

Inwardly cringing at the absolutely terrible back and forth, Catboy casually went to the glass cases. He tried for all the world to not seem quiet as on edge as he truly felt. Inside, his stomach roiled rebelliously and a tumulus cloud of disinterested irritation skittered across his flesh like creeping mites. The sensation was entirely unpleasant, but he schooled his features and hopped onto a case, crossing his legs and leaning back.

Catboy shrugged almost helplessly, a 'What can you do?' smile tugging on the edges of his lips, "You ruined my fun, being the nosey Batbrains you are."

He could have sworn he saw Dick twitch beneath the cowl of Batman. For the sake of his own sanity, he chose to ignore the definitely could be interpreted some other way pseudo-twitch. From the sidelines of his vision, Catboy could see Catwoman cutting open another glass case, delicate hands deliberately grabbing the stunningly grandiose diamond piece within.

"Put it down," Damian ground out, his eyes narrowing beneath the white lenses of his domino.

Catwoman shot him a feral smirk, "I don't quite feel like it."

They were playing with fire: they both knew it. The warming rush spreading throughout his body, the tidal wave of endorphins and adrenaline, told Tim it would be worth any bumps or bruises he could possibly attain. This game of cat and mouse was by far much more fun than man-handling a group of overzealous thugs. He and Catwoman were straddling a dangerous line, one which could bring everything Tim had built to collapse. While his mind rarely cleared and guilt still nipped at his heels, at least now he felt some semblances of happiness, however far and few between they seemed to be.

Before-

Well, he didn't like thinking about before.

Using a well-timed and deliberate slam to the glass case he sat on, Catboy reached in through the hole he had created. He snatched up a truly audacious gold collar piece studded with all manner of jewels and gems. His eyes stared out from behind the protective covering of his goggles, watching the Bats as he slipped the piece on over the PVC.

"Don't I just look fetching?" Tim sing-songed, tilting his head back and curving the very edges of his lips into a come-hither leer.

"The hell are you even on, kid?" Jason sneered cruelly.

His lips wretched upward in distaste while one hand slithered to the holsters at his side. Batman seized his arm before he could pull the gun out, without words expressing his unfathomable dislike for taking a life. Jason had far too many "accidents" when it came to aim already when he received an invitation to join the patrols. Catboy relaxed marginally. At least he didn't have to face the prospect of a bullet to the face by his pseudo-brother.

"Well, boys, it's been lovely chatting with you as always," Catwoman intoned from her position on the floor, "but we really must be going. Cat naps to take, more precious gems to steal. You understand, I'm sure."

Taking that go ahead, Tim vaulted over the case behind him. He skidded with one leg out stretched, both bemused and terrified to see several batarangs impale themselves in the concrete above his head. A ruckus broke out behind him, but, steadfastly, he remained true to Catwoman's teachings. Using the now useless batarangs as step, Catboy propelled himself up the wall and slipped out the window in one fluid motion. Letting himself drop, he rolled off the concrete and onto the dirt of an abandoned lot.

Dully, his ankle throbbed. The twinge of blossoming pain faded out as he allowed his baser instincts to take over. Heart pounding, breath coming in shallow bursts, he slipped through the remaining twilight to weave his way back to his safe haven. Over the calming din of Gotham's nightlife, Tim picked up on the growing roar of a cycle's engine. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself behind a half shattered pile of rubble. All colour seeped away as he became the shadows, just another misshapen monster soon to disappear once the dawn came.

He knew he'd been followed when the thundering ceased and gravel splattered the cinder blocks strewn about near the lot entrance. The heavy crunch of boots brought Tim's heart to his throat. Painfully swallowing around the newly formed lump, he prayed to not hear the click of a safety. Dick had sent Jason after him.

"Here, kitty kitty. Come on, this ain't fuckin' hide and seek," Jason crooned, crackling the bones of his hands. More an intimidation tactic than any need to limber up, he bent over and picked up several stones. "You know, I always figured cats were skittish when you got them stuck in a corner. Looks to me, you're in one hell of a corner."

Tim heard the near tangible crack as one of the stones made contact with a formation of rubble not ten feet from where he had chosen to huddle. Involuntarily, his eyes slid shut as he sat patiently through another crack. The tension slithered down his throat, clogging his lungs and making intelligent and rational thought difficult. Jason wasn't a burglar or gang lord. He was a Bat, one of the good guys now (though Tim always debated on the validity of that claim). If Jason didn't fuck him up, then he'd be carted to, most likely, Arkham.

Sweat beaded across his flesh, tendrils of it slipping down the curve of his back uncomfortably. Three more cracks went by, each crashing like a short lived land slide. When silence reigned, Tim knew something shitty was about to happen. His legs had already tensed for a quit exit, hands flexed and ready to push off the rubble for added momentum, but a hand encircled the back of his neck and squeezed.

A strangled gasp tore from Tim's throat. Reflexively, his hands went to the offending limb keeping him relatively still. Digging his claws in, Catboy turned all his attention to shredding the flesh of Jason's arm. In retaliation, Jason tightened his grip, pressing upon the pressure points and causing Tim's version to momentarily white out. Stilling, he growled low in his throat.

"Let me go, Red Hood," Tim bit out, once more grinding his teeth in both frustration and shame.

Jason tsked like a mother hen from behind him, directing Tim to stand and come round the stone wall he'd used as cover, "Now, you know I can't do that, kitty."

Catboy turned his head as best as possible, tilting it to one side as he sneered, "It's Catboy, not kitty."

Rumbling echoes of laughter filled the still night air. Somehow, Jason managed to get out, "I don't give a shit."

Tim pasted on his best poker face, letting all the frustration and worry bleed away till he was left with cold, clinical calm once more. Catboy protested at Red Robin reentering the fray of Tim's jumbled mind, but both conceded the temporary need to at least partially slip into Tim's old persona. Still staring at Jason, Red Robin formulated the plan and left to once more allow Catboy free reign.

A devilish, coy little smirk crawled across Tim's lips.

The contemptuous grin slid from Jason's face as he cocked a brow, "What're you so happy about?"

Catboy declined answering. Instead, he found solid footing and pushed upward, slipping one leg between himself and Jason. The heel of his foot made a sickening crack as it came in contact with Jason's jaw. Giving his opponent no time to recover, Tim snuck in his second leg and pushed Jason back with a horse kick to the sternum. He went back with a strangled oomph as Catboy landed on all fours.

Thighs tensing to make a quick retreat, Tim managed to lunge up half way before a hand seized his ankle and yanked him back again. He turned and swiped at Jason, catching and shredding more the man's shirt than anything else. The message came across loud and clear: Catboy was not one to be toyed with nor underestimated. He could see Jason's lips curl into a disturbingly overjoyed shame of a smile before he punched Tim full in the gut.

And goddamn did that hurt.

Recovering before the second blow could fall, Tim snatched Jason's wrist and twisted. Above the roar of their labored breathing, Catboy heard the sickening pop of a newly dislocated joint. Tim's heart when out to his former Bat brother. From experience, he knew dislocating anything even remotely close to the lower arm generated enough pain to topple any ordinary man. He could do nothing for Jason, at least, not anymore. Tim took his opening and wretched his ankle away before scrambling to his feet, leaning more heavily on his right than left.

"Shit," Jason cursed, "you'll pay for that, you fuckin' pussy."

Catboy raised a taunting finger, waggling it back and forth once he was a safe distance from his opponent, "Ah ah, watch your language."

For his efforts, Jason spit Tim's way. He shoved his wrist back into place. Only the slight crease in the corners of his eyes signified any acknowledgement of the pain. One threatening step forward then Jason stopped. He stared behind Tim, a dour expression flittering across his features. With brows knit together, Jason bit out, "Scarecrow."

Catboy whirled, at once terrified. Tim had never been a fan of Scarecrow's fear gas: ever. Getting a good enough dose now. . . Well. He wasn't even sure. There could be no risking it, however. Jason proved to be a good liar. A very good liar.

All at once, Tim's world spun. For a moment, all else melted away as he lost of track of all sense of grounding. Reality slammed back to him as his body made rough impact with brick. His head slammed back, making his vision swim before he could properly focus enough to get a grip on the situation. When he processed his current position, Catboy decided he rather enjoyed being utterly disorientated rather than this.

Jason's hands encircled Tim's wrists, keeping them firmly pinned to the brick, as he leaned in and pressed them together from chest to thigh. His legs were spread just enough that, were he to try and move, balance would abandon him and ultimately lead to failure. Jason's feet kept his legs in place using the obvious threat of breaking the bones in his feet.

No breathing room; no wiggle room.

Catboy raged internally, railing against the confines. Contempt slipped into Tim's eyes as he raised his head to look up at Jason. He knew Jason wanted him to feel what their short foray had done. And, for the love of all that was, is, or could be holy, Tim sure as hell got that message. Jason was hard as a rock and, apparently, like Bruce, had a Cat family obsession. Bruce never could truly say no to Selina. Jason wasn't Bruce though. Jason had been twisted and Tim could think of no concrete plan to manuover out of this predicament.

For once in his life, Tim found himself at a bit of a loss. Catboy insisted on thrashing, just a full on bid for freedom, while Red Robin calmly attempted to completely work through the options, though none were viable. Tim had no idea what to do. Tim wasn't a thief or a crime fighter; he was the awkward kid in the back of the class, usually sleeping but always doing well on tests. The guy that you could count on to flake and then apologize profusely. This wasn't Tim's thing and, for once, he was a bit frightened.

Before, Robin handled the fear, proceeded by Red Robin. Both could manipulate the less desirable impulses and emotions better than Tim ever could. What exactly did he have now?

Determination.

Knitting his brows and figuratively putting on a stiff upper lip, he went limp and lax within Jason's grasp. Once knotted and tensed muscles relaxed in a wave of pure survival instinct. He'd heard, and seen once, what Catwoman did in such situations. Whether Todd fell for it or not hung heavily in the air as a potential liability. Too late to back out, Catboy arched his back, pressing into Red Hood and creating a graceful curve to the entirety of his body. He felt like a wanton whore and, not for the first time, thanked whatever higher power that the costume allowed him anonymity.

Once more, he allowed Catboy the reigns to do what the Cat family did best: toying with Bats.

"Oops, looks like you caught me," Catboy purred. "Oh, whatever will I do now?"

Patiently, Tim waited for the response. It could potentially condemn him or throw open a whole door to freedom. Jason could go either way; nothing was ever predictable when it came to Jason. Ever. Even on the go-

Oh. Oh.

Tim's brain once more short circuited when the cold steel of a gun barrel dug in just below his jaw. The imminent threat need not have been voiced. Swallowing quietly, Tim kept his position and just dared Jason to pull the trigger. Dick would just be thrilled to be informed his misguided brother had blown out Tim's brains. Truly, he would.

"You know, that ain't gonna work on me, kitty cat," he returned. His voice hung somewhere between a visceral snarl and intrigued approval. No term could encompass all that hung in Jason's words, but they made Tim shudder in a not entirely unpleasant manner. "Batman may be a sucker for it, but I'm not Batman and you're not as hot as Catwoman."

One of Jason's leg released his own, coming instead to nestle between the space in Tim's leg. His knee raised up, just a teasing, glancing touch, but Tim's blood ran cold even as his breath came just a bit more ragged. Damn his body. Damn, damn, damn his body. The familiar beginnings of raw arousal began tightening a noose in the pit of his stomach, coiling with the fear and frustration, bonding with the excitement and anticipation. Oh God, he was getting turned on from Todd, the guy that tried to kill him, and here he was, pinned to a wall and getting hot for Red Hood.

A keening whine bubbled up from Catboy's throat, both begging for more and pleading for release. And not the good kind of release. The kind where he could scurry home with his tail between his legs to nurse his ego over a cup of warm milk with Darin curled beside him. He wanted to go home.

And that thought jarred him enough to incite a whole new urgency. Somehow, from here to then, he'd begun to think of Selina's villa as home: a place of comfort and serenity. He hadn't felt that sort of connection for a very long time.

Desperation often gave way to silly follies, but Tim wanted to go home and fucking Todd was in his way.

Pouting, Tim spit out, "I'm just so hurt to hear that."

Later, he could brow beat himself for the outrageously risky and stupid move, but he couldn't think straight, not with Jason's knee there and the aching need for home engulfing him. Jason's mouth opened to utter another quick rejoinder, but Tim beat him to the punch: literally. Though he could feel the bones of his wrists grind painfully and the tendons stretch past their limit, he managed to free himself from Todd's grasp and land a right hook. Just a breath of an opening, but Catboy snatched it greedily.

Using the wall, he slammed Jason right on the solar plexus with a brutal kick, then another, till enough space lingered between them. He spun on his heels, vaulting over the concrete wall behind. Abandoning most of his recent teachings, Tim just ran. He clumsily scaled the fences blocking his way and skidded round corners. Along the way, he managed to slam into a building side. Ignoring the dull throb of his side, he pressed on and refused to let up even as he dropped into the blissfully familiar cavern.

While conquering the stairs, he slipped twice but managed to keep his grip. Pulling himself up and shedding both his hood and goggles in the process, Tim sped into the house. He left the door ajar in his hurry but only one thought lingered in his mind. Racing through the dining room, falling in the process, he scrambled back up and took the stairs three at a time. He didn't bother to even try masking the wild look clouding his features.

Upon hearing all the racket, Selina came out of her room, only half out of her own costume. The surprise colouring her demeanor was not lost on Tim, though it processed as only a subtle recognition of her mood. Tearing down the hall, he didn't bother with words. Instead, in one of the rare moments of vulnerability he allowed others to see, Tim wrapped his arms around Selina's chest and just clung. He buried his face into the crook of her shoulder and just basked in everything that was Selina.

In the morning, they could go back to their usual casual relationship. For now, Tim needed this. He did his best to convey that notion through tightening his arms and sucking in a shuddering breath. She must have caught on because, just a second after, her own arms wrapped around his shoulders and she pressed them ever closer. Her cheek came to rest atop his head as she began to lightly sway them back and forth. Tim couldn't have been more relieved.

He had no idea how long they stood there, embracing, but the miscellaneous aches began to creep up once more as his breathing righted itself. She never loosened her hold nor spoke a word, but it was enough. When Tim's arms drooped, she gently pried him off and, with a delicate hand on the small of his back, led Tim to the bathroom. While he carefully stripped off his costume, Selina drew a bath for him. Lying a towel on the counter, she departed from the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

Eternally grateful but unable to properly express it, Tim stared at her back.

Once left alone to his own devices, Tim shut off all intelligent thought. Bleaching his mind, if only for a moment, he lowered himself into the tub. A hiss worked its way from between his clenched teeth as his body protested the sudden heat. He plowed on till he was chin deep in the water before adding bubbles. Childish, maybe, but a necessity after a night like that one. Kicking his feet like a despondent toddler, Tim filled the tub with bubbles.

Somehow, while he was intensely focusing on a rather large bubble sculpture he'd begun, Darin snuck into the bathroom. Perching on the side, Darin mewled, begging for attention. He leaned over, nuzzling Tim's cheek till he got what he want. Drying his hand on the carpet below, Tim absently stroked under Darin's chin while he continued his bath time master piece.

Batman would be appalled if he could see him now.