-The return of a king.

Would 'sorry' have made any difference? Does it ever? It's just a word. One word against a thousand actions. -Sarah Ockler

Rumors, they had dictated the last nine months of Tim's life. A sighting here or a whisper there had sent him diving head long into hundreds, if not thousands of fruitless searches. Through nooks and crannies—in corners of the world people had long forgotten about, he'd scoured every continent in some way, shape, or form. Hoping…always hoping.

Steadily he marched through the darkening twilight of the Iranian countryside, his body rejoicing that the relentless desert sun had finally fallen deep beneath the crest of the nearing mountains. In all of his worldly travels he'd never been exposed to such miserable conditions.

Under the light fabric of his khaki colored cloak and the scratchy surface of his tunic, Tim's skin was raw and blistered from sun burns, his complexion taking on a tanned tone deeper than he'd ever had in his life –and that was just skin deep.

Beneath the loyalty and loving resolve, he was teetering on the precipice of emotional exhaustion. There was only so much a child twice orphaned could take, and it seemed that fate felt like testing his limits.

Night had fallen quickly, bringing with it a bitter chill. Against the star lit sky a billowing cloud of smoke rose. The acrid stench overflowing from the burning market place and into the people crowded streets. Livestock and humans alike were fleeing the scene like a startled herd of gazelle, wild eyed and with no other intention but to escape the immediate danger.

They crushed against each other without regard for the men they tripped, the women they pushed, or the children the trampled. Mothers wailed in vain the names of their kids, desperate beggars going against the flow of panic to brave the inferno for the food others had left to burn. It was complete and utter chaos, which left Tim with one course of action.

After all, a bat raised child didn't run away from danger, but toward it.

In the crushing fray of the panicked mob Tim tried to decipher pained screams from fearful screams, working his way closer to the blaze in an effort to reach the first. He tried his damnedest to detour people down back alleys and side roads, hoping that in clearing the crowd he would stand a better chance of getting to the injured. But no one seemed to heed his broken Arabic; they just kept running, kept screaming.

As they ran they took the fire with them, embers dancing through the smoke clogged air and igniting all that they touched. It was as if the blaze was alive, and intelligent. Chasing the fearful and feeding the frenzy with the promise of a slow agonizing demise. It couldn't be stopped, not until there was nothing left to burn.

Tim stumbled, his legs giving out as he careened toward the packed dirt road. His lungs ached for a breath of oxygen that would not come, body wracking coughs protesting the burning infiltration of what was surely an unhealthy amount of smoke. Feet continued to parade by his still form, the relentless wave of people making it near impossible to regain a standing position. Closing his eyes against the violent orange glow Tim accepted his fate. He was going to die here, if not by being trampled then by asphyxiation. None of these people would know his name or who to inform. His brothers, they would probably never know. And for that Tim was sorry, because he had promised Dick he would be home for Christmas, now he'd probably never see home again.

Just as his eyes slid shut and his body willed itself to surrender… the screams intensified.

For a moment Tim didn't understand how or why. The cries were no long fearful or agonized, but jubilant and relieved. Stampeding feet slowed and eventually stopped before erupting into a wild combination of jumping and bouncing. It made absolutely no sense, at least not until Tim managed to crack his powder blue eyes wide enough to see the cause of such celebration.

Something—someone had extinguished the flames, their presence rejoiced like the return of a king.

People parted around the approaching entity.

And despite his effort the world slipped from Tim's grasp before he had a chance to comprehend the familiarity of the daunting figure. His last glimpse was of a creature darker than any night.

There was a set of things Tim usually expected on when he found himself regaining consciousness in an unfamiliar location.

Being comfortable was not one of them.

The soft weight of a thin sheet covered what felt to be his exposed skin, the peeling and sunburnt layers slathered in some sort of soothing balm. Carefully wrapped cold compresses had been strategically applied to the sights of old injuries which had a habit of acting up, injuries few people had readily available knowledge on. And all feelings of grime and soot had been wiped from his face and hair, leaving Tim more refreshed than he'd felt in months.

After a fleeting moment of hesitance Tim willed his eyes open, sucking in a ragged breath at the sight that met him. The oxygen mask and the glow of computer screens all registered as after thoughts, because it took all of Tim's mustered effort to accept what he saw in front of him.

His hair was longer than Tim could ever remember it being, a scruffy five o'clock shadow adding an edge to his normally clean shaven appearance, icy blue eyes watching him with the same patient interest they had held for years.

A thought to be dead man stood in front of him…very much alive.

Voice tinged bitter with betrayal but soft with affection, one name came to pass Tim's lips.

"Bruce."

AN: Well...um...yea. This chapter went without a proof read so please don't kill me for any giant blunders, do feel free however to point them out. Love as always to the reviewers, and apologies to the Tim fans that I basically tortured in this chapters. He lived didn't he? ;)

PS. To anyone who didn't understand my comment in the last chapter...according to this next reboot (lord knows there are tons of them!) our beloved Timmy was never 'Robin' but instead started his career as 'Red Robin.' Yea...NO.