Disclaimer: "Holy Lawsuits, Batman! She doesn't own us!"

When the Bough Breaks…

Summary: Set during the year of his recovery, Tim undergoes his first hypnotherapy session.

AN: Chapter 4 is up. Thanks for the great feedback guys! You really made my day! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's been my project for the past 7 hours. It wasn't in my original outline for the story, but just jumped in there. I felt like I needed to put Tim through the ringer just a little more. Poor guy, somebody give him a hug.

Chapter 4: Hypnotherapy

"What do you see?"

Tim looked up at the sky and immediately shielded his eyes. "I'm in Metropolis." Adjusting to the sunlight, he lowered his arm, and the ray of spots slowly disappeared.

"Do you know why you're there?"

"No…" He looked around and then changed his answer. "Wait a minute, yeah, I do." A large hand touched his back, guiding him forward. He looked up at the squared jaw and the man smiled back at him. "I'm with Superman. We've just wrapped up a case." They stood before various masked villains, bound together with his utility rope.

"You're with Superman?"

"Uh-huh."

"Is Batman there as well?"

Tim looked around and crossed his arms. "Not likely."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he's never here." Superman grabbed the tied criminals and lifted them easily into the air. He saluted Tim as he flew off.

"And how does that make you feel?"

He scratched the back of his head. "How do I feel about him not being here? Fine, I guess. He was probably busy with something else."

"Alright Tim, I want you to leave Metropolis and come back to Gotham. Come back to the manor."

"Okay," The sun dissolved around him, taking Metropolis with it. The scene reformed itself inside Wayne Manor. "I'm in the living room. In front of the fireplace." He turned in a circle, surveying the room. Rain beat against the large window on the opposite wall. "It's pretty stormy outside."

"Now I need you to do something for me. I want you to put someone else into this picture. It can be anyone you want."

The living room rippled and Alfred appeared. "It's Alfred."

"How does his presence make you feel?"

"Hungry. Did you know that he makes the best apple pie I've ever tasted."

"I've heard rumors. Hunger aside, do you feel anything else?"

"Happy I guess. Alfred's always on top of things. He makes sure I eat and sleep and all that good stuff. And he takes care of me when I'm sick." He smiled at the older man. "I'm really glad he's here."

"Now, I want you to add someone else."

The room ripple again and Barbara Gordon's image appeared, lying on the couch, one had pressed to her stomach, the other stretched above her head. She wasn't in her Batgirl costume, but in a black strapless dress that barely touched her mid-thigh.

"Barbara," he smiled lazily, before coughing and shaking his head clear. "I mean, it's Barbara Gordon," he said more firmly.

"You like her."

"What? Like her? No-no-no-no-no," he laughed nervously, "I don't like her. I mean, I like her. She's awesome. And pretty. Really pretty. But she's also a lot…I mean it's not like we…but I don't like her like her, you know." He paused again, "Well, maybe a little, but it's not like I'm in love with her or anything." Barbara giggled at his frustration, nose wrinkling with her smirk. He put his head in his palms, flushing. "Oh man."

"It's alright, Tim. You care about her. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, I know. She's just…a really good person, you know? And she always takes care of me, like Alfred. And she's saved my butt more times than I can count."

Barbara smiled at him warmly from the couch.

"You value her presence in your life. It's important for you to identify the people you trust. Is there anyone else who fits that description?"

"Yeah." Tim felt the air beside him shift and change. A hand pressed down on his shoulder. He looked up at Dick, clad in his Nightwing costume, sans the black mask. He smiled down on him. "Nightwing."

"Nightwing. Dick Grayson."

"Uh-huh. I didn't like him at first. Didn't think he liked me either. Actually, I didn't think he cared enough to have feelings about me, one way or the other. But then he helped me on a bust a few months after he came back to Gotham. We talked, and he turned out to be pretty cool."

"Sounds like you respect him."

"Are you kidding? How could I not? He's awesome! He's really smart. Barbara told me he graduated at the top of his class. And he's one of the best fighters I've ever seen. He kicks so much bad-guy butt. I saw him take out seven gang-bangers all by himself once. Didn't even break a sweat. But it's more than just that. He never talks down to me. When we work together, I feel like he really trusts me to handle things. He comes to Gotham more—a lot more since…just a lot more than before. He knows that I get pretty bored around here these days, so he we hang out. I've gone back to Blüdhaven with him, too. He's like…he's like…"

"He's like a brother to you."

"Yeah." Tim looked back up at Dick. The black mask had appeared on his face and he stood tall. Proud. He was everything Tim had ever admired rolled into one person. "He's just…awesome. He's the original Robin. He was always so fast. So strong. So confident. I wish I could be more like him." Tim turned his head and stared hard at the ground. His voice came softer. "But I can't. I'll never be able to live up to him. Or be as good as he was." Without direction, the remaining image rippled into the room, standing across from him, face covered by shadows. He wore a cleanly pressed black suit and his blue eyes focused on the mantle above Tim's head. "And no matter how hard I try, I'll never mean as much to Bruce as he did."

"Tim, for how long have you felt this way?"

He stared at the man who stood before him, ignoring the burning of his eyes. The tingle at the back of his throat. "I've tried, I really have. But it never seems to be enough."

"I want you to re-center yourself, Tim, just like we practiced. Once you're ready, I want you to add Bruce."

"He's already here."

"Is there anything you want to say to him?"

"No."

"There must be something. Let's go back to what you were saying befor—"

"No. There's nothing to say."

"You need to do this, Tim. If you don't want to talk to him directly, why don't you tell me what you feel when you look at him."

He scratched the back of his head. "I guess I feel sorry."

"Why do you feel sorry?"

"Because I messed up. I really messed up."

"Listen to me. You did not mess up. This is not your fault, Tim."

"Yeah it is. I got caught. And I told. We're never supposed to do that, no matter what. The secret comes before everything."

"Did Bruce tell you that? That protecting your identities was the most important thing?"

"He didn't have to tell me. I was too weak. Dick would never have given in. He probably wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place, because Dick is perfect. The original Robin, the one who should still be working with Batman. I'm just a screw up. And we all know it."

"Why do you think that Tim?"

"Haven't you been listening?!" The storm out swelled, throwing the rain harder and faster against the window. The panes flicked with the lightning. "I'm the weak link in the chain. Everyone knew it, but they were just waiting for me to prove it. And I did." His breathing became quicker.

"Tim, I know that no one thinks that about you. Not Alfred, not Barbara, not Dick, and especially not Bruce."

"You're right. Bruce doesn't think that. He doesn't think about me at all." He stared at the imposing figure, whose eyes were still glued to the mantel. "He won't even look at me. He can't. Because it reminds him that I'm a mistake. He made a mistake when he trained me."

"Tim, refocus yourself."

"The great Batman made a mistake! I bet it kills him. I bet he can't stand it!" Bruce's dark hair blurred down his face, forming a cowl. His suit changed texture, and his tie reshaped itself into a bat on his chest. "You can't stand it, can you? Seeing me everyday, your one mistake? Look at me!"

Batman didn't move, his eyes fixed above Tim's head. Tim balled his fist, muscles twitching. "Look at me! Look at my face!" He ran, shrugging off Nightwing's hand, when Batman still didn't budge. His right fist made contact with the older man's stomach, but had to effect. "Stop ignoring me! Stop pretending that I don't exist! Stop going out of town so that you don't have to deal with me anymore!" He left fist had been beating the black bat on his chest. "Stop it! Please," his voice shook and the glossiness of his eyes slipped onto his cheek. His knees gave out and he sank onto the floor. "Please, just stop it." He looked up for some kind of reaction, but got none. He looked back down to the floor. His hand was resting on the toe of Bruce's boot.

"Alright Tim, that's enough for today. One…Two…Three."

Tim opened his eyes. He saw the white fresco that Dr. Thompkin's ceiling was composed of. He turned his head to the right. Leslie was sitting near the edge of her chair, holding her spiral notepad securely on her lap. "We're done?"

"Yes, Tim, it's been an hour."

"Hmm," he said, pushing himself up off the long couch he was lying on. "It always passes so quickly. How'd I do?"

"Good. You responded very well to the hypnosis."

"Never though you'd be able to hypnotize me. It's pretty trippy."

She nodded, but was studying her notepad. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Pretty exhausted, actually. Did you have me run a training drill while I was under?"

She smiled and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Nothing quite so traumatic. You may remember some of it with time. But it varies from patient to patient. Don't be too surprised if you don't though."

He rubbed the back of his hair. "Can't you just tell me?"

"Oh, I wasn't privy to what you saw. I served as more of a guide." She looked at her watch. "It's six o'clock. Alfred's probably waiting for you outside. We'll continue again in two days."

He stood. "Right."

She rose as well, walking him to the door. He opened it and began down the dimly lit hall. "Oh Tim, give Bruce my regards, will you?"

"He's out of town right now. Didn't tell me when he'd be back."

"I see."

"Yeah. He's been pretty busy for the past few months. You know how it is." He waved as he reached the end of the hallway. "Well, I'll see you later, Doc," he pushed the horizontal handle bar of the metal double door and exited.

She looked down at her notepad, the last words she'd written. In the sixth month of their session, Tim's feeling of inadequacy were beginning to surface more prominently. The incident with the Joker had served as a catalyst to more than she realized, although she suspected this had been brewing in Tim for a long time before that. And she feared that the repercussions of that night were far from over.

***

To Be Continued…

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