Tim really was the stupidest person he know. He made village idiots seem like astrophysicists by comparison he was so, so stupid.
He kept making the same mistakes that lead to the people around him leaving or having him sent away, and this time, this time well, he couldn't expect Bruce Wayne, the Batman to be better than his parents. Tim wished that seppuku was accepted in the western hemisphere. He could hire someone to be his second and he wouldn't have to face Batman's wrath. He would lose Robin and that would be worse than dying. Robin was the most purpose in life he had ever had.
He couldn't bring himself to hope that it was a fake this time. He'd been Robin for seven months and one of the worst Arkham breakouts happened last night and Alfred wouldn't let him go home. Tim was fine by himself, but Alfred made up a guest room and insisted that he not make the trek to his house that was only two miles away. Tim, ever the idiot, agreed. Tim did not belong at Wayne Manor he's the weird neighbor kid not a part of the family.
Now he was living to regret it, after inhaling a few more lungfuls for fear toxin than was good for him, (someone else needed his rebreather more). He could honestly say this was almost worse than the visions the gas made him go through, this was real. He woke up from a nightmare went to get a glass of water and get those nightmares out of his head. In the dark he stumbled because this was the second time he'd been upstairs in Wayne manor he fell into a vase. The glass shattered much like the scene from six years ago Tim was now bleeding all over the floor and onto the shards of sharp ancient glass. Tim cursed as he went to the guest room and found a towel to put all the pieces on he carefully placed them all on it. His hands were littered with cuts, but he didn't notice how much it stung because he was such a bad child. He was a bad Robin. There would be no more invitations to sleep upstairs. Alfred was much too nice to ever have asked him to stay over for breakfast last night. Tim didn't deserve that kindness.
Tim had a third of the money left over from the sale of the Qing dynasty vase if he got a job he might be able to pay for the vase by the end of next year, if it cost the same as the Qing vase. He had been stupid buying clothes and food when his parents had forgotten to buy them for him. By the time he picked up the vase and laid it gently on the sink counter in the guest bathroom he couldn't stop the breaths that came to fast. He knew he was hyperventilating, but that he couldn't stop. He leaned over the toilet bowl just in time to puke up last nights supper Alfred forced him to eat before retiring for the night. He was a truly awful person. Not only did he break a vase, he threw up perfectly good food because he couldn't control his emotions. No wonder his parents made excuses to leave him alone and not subject anyone to spending time with him.
He cupped his hands together to wash out his mouth and if he had only done that to begin with he wouldn't be in this mess, but no he had to be stupid and get a glass from the kitchen. The adrenaline high left him feeling hollowed out and exhausted. Tim got the covers off the bed and sat in the corner crying softly, he ruined everything he touched. Why was he so stupid? Batman was totally going to break his one rule and murder him. Morning was going to come way too fast, he was going to have to explain his unacceptable behavior.
Alfred Pennyworth was almost done making breakfast when Bruce blearily walked in the dining room still in his pajama pants and a thin white undershirt, "Good morning, Master Bruce."
"Good morning Alf," Bruce sat down and took a sip of his rich black coffee before looking up, "Where's Tim?"
"I would imagine still sleeping if you want to go wake him. I had hoped that after seven months the young master would have warmed to us enough to feel comfortable staying the night," Alfred said with a pointed look.
"I'm doing my best Alfred. He's not like Dick," Bruce swallowed, "Or Jason. I don't know what to do with him sometimes. He does everything I tell him unless he thinks it's too dangerous for me. He gave his rebreather to a civilian who was having a panic attack last night with no regard to himself. Tim is on track to being a better detective than me at this rate. He's not my son, but he's more than a business partner. I don't know Alfred."
"He deserves better than crumbs. You know how I miss Jason, but how you treat that boy is not fair to anyone. Did you see his face when I made him eat supper and sleep here? He treated that kindness like a abnormality."
"I saw. It doesn't make sense he was raised in the lap of luxury. I'll talk to him today about setting up a room permanently for him on days his parents are gone so he doesn't have to make that ridiculously long walk," Bruce replied.
"See that you do," Alfred said shooing him to check on Tim.
Bruce walked towards the guest room that was across from Dick's old room and he felt his heart drop to his feet when he saw blood smears on the hardwood floor. Had Tim hid an injury last night? Bruce forwent knocking and charged in the room to see Tim's figure slumped over in a corner wrapped in a quilt. In the blink of an eye Bruce rushed to Tim and shook him to try and rouse him. He was glad to feel his radial pulse as he wrapped his hand around Tim's too little wrist.
Tim's eyes flew open Bruce was shocked to see Tim jolt awake to scramble to get away from him.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Tim apologized frantically to the bewilderment of Bruce.
"You're ok, it was just a dream," Bruce said as he put his hand on Tim and rubbed his shoulder gently to ground him. Bruce was horrified to find Tim's hands were cut too shreds and were stained with blood.
"No, Bruce. I broke it. I broke your vase, it's in the bathroom. I'm sorry! I can pay for a new one I have some money saved up and I'll get a job doing something and can pay you the rest. I didn't mean to break it. I won't sleep over anymore. I'm sorry I shouldn't have last night," Tim rambled. "I need to go back to my house and get the money for you."
"Tim, what vase?" Bruce asked confused.
"The one that was near family picture of you and your sons," Tim replied still looking wild eyed and ready to bolt. "It's on the counter in the bathroom."
Bruce walked into the bathroom and looked at the vase shards and smelled the unmistakable stench of puke.
"Are you ok, Tim are you sick?" Bruce asked knowing that Tim just broke one of Alfred's favorite vases. Dick moved out without any plans to move back in Alfred put out the vase that cost the same as the Bentley because when the light hit it just right it looked stunning.
"I'm alright. I'm sorry about the vase. I didn't mean to," Tim said again.
"I don't care about the vase. I care about you. Your hands are cut to pieces and you just had a bad night facing Arkham villains," Bruce said as he watched Tim's face go through a plethora of emotions.
"I don't understand. My hands aren't that bad the scratches don't even hurt. The vase is broken it's not going to heal and be good as new in a week or two," Tim said as though Bruce Wayne wasn't rich enough to make Elon Musk green with envy.
"It's just a vase Tim. I can buy a new one if I want to," Bruce said as he gently picked up his Robin, "Let's get your hands patched up. I'm sure that Alfred is wanting to make sure you're still in one piece after last night. He's made eggs, sausage and toast for breakfast. If you don't like that he can make something else, I don't know what you like for breakfast." Bruce admitted.
"I like that. Are your sure that I'm allowed to eat with you? Won't Mr. Pennyworth be angry I broke the vase and made a mess?" Tim asked quietly.
"If he didn't want it broken he should have put it up. I wouldn't trade breakfast with you for all the vases in the world," Bruce said trying to reassure his Robin, no not Robin, Tim.
"That's not a very good deal, Bruce."
"I think it is. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to spend the night here on days your parents are gone. You could decorate the room and make it yours if you wanted to make it feel more like home. Wayne Manor is too big for just two people and I want to know you Tim not just Robin." Bruce said with more conviction Alfred's words ringing in his ears. This child deserved so much more than huddling in a corner not knowing the extent of how he helped save Bruce.
"I'd like that a lot," Tim said wiping tears away from his eyes with his battered hands.
"Me too, chum," Bruce said.