A/N: So. After what, six months? February Song has risen from the dead! I got so many sweet messages from people encouraging me to keep on going with it and I'm here to say, you guys deserve a good story. I'm gonna try my best. Stay tuned. 3
Selina bites her lip, shakes her head slowly. She runs her hands through her hair and growls deep, "No. No, absolutely not. And what were you thinking?"
"I just said that-"
"You just signed Blackmail up to kill Bruce!"
"We can lead him to Batman," Tim forces out, only now thinking about breathing, trying to grasp what should be the next step. But this argument has been going on for the last two hours, since they stepped far enough away, since the walls enclosing them seemed safe enough to argue loud enough and seriously enough.
Now the world seems tilted and he's disoriented, like everything shifted while he was running away from Blackmail.
And to think that at some point in his life, he could have lost Bruce - again - without him even being the suit. There would have been no Bat to target, just a man in his home.
But he can't afford to think about that. He's in too deep to focus on it.
He takes a deep breath, rubs his hands on his jeans. "We learn about his - ugh - plot'-" he swipes quotation marks in the air, "-tomorrow night. And then we tip him off to Batman. They can catch him this time. He's done way too much damage to everybody to just run away from this. This is our chance to stop him once and for all."
"He's too smart," Selina breathes. "He'll know."
"Not if we're careful."
Selina blinks, looks him over and then shakes her head again. "No. You have to be careful."
Tim stares at her, watches the way she takes two steps backward, figuratively, literally. She drops her eyes to the ground, eyebrows knit together because she's making a decision. Right here, right now. His mind starts racing, because there's a picture in his head of doing this by himself.
He's worked alone before.
It shouldn't bother him.
"We can…we can earn his trust-" Tim starts.
"Kitten, the moment he finds out, there'll be a bullet in your head, just like that girl's," Selina snaps, yanking off her gloves and tossing them onto the bed next to Tim. "He won't take any chances on you."
"How's he going to find out?" Tim shrugs. "I'm…" He stops, takes a shuddering breath. The words hesitate and when he finally gets them out, it's almost painful to say. "I'm not Red Robin."
The suit irritates his skin.
"You drop him off to Bruce, sure," Selina throws her hands up. "Sounds like a great idea until he realizes that you've been so naughty."
"No, I'm more careful than that," Tim answers.
"You don't get it, do you?" Selina hisses, staring hard into his eyes. "I guess you wouldn't, you don't know what it's like to live like this. In this world, you're not safe at anytime. There's nobody to back you up, there's no Daddybats to cover you. It's everybody for themselves. Who gladly does burglary jobs without some form of payment? Who does this, Tim? Nobody-"
"Blackmail does," Tim says. "He sees himself as some sort of hero."
"I suppose you do too," Selina smiles wryly. "Guess you can take the boy from the Bat, but not the Bat from the boy."
Tim swallows, feels the sweat gathering on his palms again. He can't bring himself to answer, can't find anything to say. Because she's so painfully right, there's still the black and the white contrasting each other so hard in his mind. He can't think like Selina.
He can't believe that gray even if he tried.
"It wouldn't be right," Tim whispers. "It wouldn't be right to run when we already know that he's out there."
"It's called self-preservation," Selina snarls.
"It's called responsibility," Tim bites back.
"But it's not mine. If you want it, take it. It's yours."
She steps back one final time and watches him, waiting for him to do, to say something. That's what everybody does. And he always hits a brick wall because there's all these voices in his head that are constantly watching his steps to make sure he doesn't screw up and there's no way of saying no to them.
"I told you I'd run. If I didn't like what I heard, I'd run."
And Tim nods, says, "But I didn't promise you that I would go with you."
Her eyes narrow and she sighs. She shakes her head again, walks away from Tim without another word.
Tim stays on the internet for hours into the night, sitting in the farthest corner of the room while Selina lies in silence on one of the beds. He chews on his fingernails, studying the pictures taken by the press of a small and distant figure but it's unmistakable. Batman was at the Caldwell mansion for the past two nights.
It's a wonder he actually left the cave, left the chance evidence of Damian still being alive.
The reports are chilling. From what the detectives and the police had gathered, the mansion was obviously broken into at the balcony. Alicia Caldwell was dead at the threshold of her office and bedroom and there was an amethyst necklace missing from her possessions. There weren't any security cameras set up inside, all photo evidence were taken by exterior cameras.
Tim bites his thumb, mutters, "Pictures are worth a thousand words and my word count is like... three."
He's got to figure out how to get Bruce in one place, how to convince him that it was Blackmail and not Catwoman or Stray. But Stray is all over the Gotham news, it's hard to ignore him.
He gets up and starts pacing, closing his eyes.
Slam, slam, the gavel hits the wood and the Lady Justice cries, "Order in the court!"
Tim stands up, takes a deep breath and flexes his hands in nervous worry, feeling the Robin gloves dampen with sweat. He's the defense attorney...defending himself? Batman stands up behind the table on Tim's right - the prosecution - and he's dark and looming in the Batsuit. He says in a low and growling voice, "The accusation against Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne: the break-in of Alicia Caldwell's mansion, the theft of an amethyst necklace by him and his accomplice Selina Kyle, and the murder of Alicia Caldwell."
Wait. There's something already wrong in his mind-courtroom. Bruce is bringing an accusation against Tim. That's wrong.
He would be bringing the accusation against Stray.
Of course. What reason does Bruce have that shooting people in the head isn't Stray's MO? It's not Selina's and for all he knows or cares…Timothy Drake-Wayne is with Conner Kent.
So it's not Tim defending himself. No, it's Tim defending Stray.
Tim runs a hand through his hair, almost laughs out loud in something like dismay and actual amusement. How could he be so blind, how could he not have seen it? He's supposed to be proving Stray not guilty when all this time, he was so sidelined, so distracted by defending himself.
And all of a sudden, he's not Red Robin and he's not Stray.
He's someone more objective. He's a detective.
He's Tim.
And that's why he can't go back to Bruce and that's why he can't run. This is what justice is about.
So start over. The image is so much more clear now.
Batman stands up and with him, Alicia Caldwell in her pink bathrobe with a bullet hole in her forehead. Batman starts again. "The accusation against Stray: the break-in of Alicia Caldwell's mansion, the theft of an amethyst necklace by him and his accomplice Selina Kyle, and the murder of Alicia Caldwell."
Lady Justice tilts her head toward the defense, though unable to see who it is through the blindfold. "Defense, do you have anything to say?"
Tim takes a deep shaky breath and says, "Your Honor, the evidence against Stray and Catwoman is impressive to say the least, damning to say the most. But I'm here to prove to you and the prosecution -" a sideways glance toward Batman, "- that my client is not guilty. And I will start with three main presumptions that the prosecution has already claimed and I will prove the exact opposite to you. Number one: that someone, other than Stray, Catwoman and Alicia Caldwell was in the house. Number two: that Catwoman and Stray were not the ones who stole from Miss Caldwell's mansion. Number three: That neither Stray nor Catwoman shot and killed Alicia Caldwell."
Tim writes it all down furiously on the notebook, holding it up to the weak computer screen for light. He circles each premise number and then draws an arrow to the next empty page. Plenty of space for stacking enough evidence.
He doesn't remember falling asleep in the corner.
But when he opens his eyes he finds the sunshine streaming through the dirty windows, Selina's bed left unmade and her backpack gone. Next to his laptop on the floor is a slip of torn paper and written in blue pen:
Couldn't do it, kitten. Be careful.
SK
And that was it.