A/N: Yay for inspiration! Sorry if the ending isn't the best, I wasn't sure how to close this off. Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

Jason had tried not to be annoyed.

When he'd abandoned his apartment, he came with full intent to the manor to help Tim get back on his feet. Almost drowning wasn't a pleasant experience; the boy was traumatized by it for sure. So he was okay, at first, with Tim wanting space. Jason understood that he didn't want to talk about the nightmares, or discuss what had happened. It made sense to want to rest and deal with his predicament his own way. So he had allowed Tim to do so, and had been fine with the arrangement, expecting the teen to open up sooner or later.

Then he started to send people out of his room. No one was allowed to spend the night to watch him. He barely spoke and didn't bother ask if he needed something. All the teen would do was search on his laptop in bed for hours, refusing to respond to anyone who interrupted him. There were instances where he'd fall asleep while typing, and Jason would have to turn it off or risk it getting accidentally thrown if Tim were to jump awake.

Jason had let it go the first week.

He'd mentioned about it the second week.

By the third he was ready to smash the computer on the floor and shake some sort of conversation out of Tim. But that wouldn't be very helpful to his self esteem, so Jason chose instead to vent his frustrations in the cave to whatever training equipment he could get his hands on. He'd hit his fists into a punching bag until he was tired to the bone and all anger dispelled from his conscience. Though as soon as he'd go back upstairs to check on Tim, the sight of the teen in the same exact position that he had been in an hour or two before would bring back the frustration Jason had tried to get rid of.

Patience running thin, he stood outside Tim's door and took a deep breath. His straightforward approach hadn't been working on the teen. Maybe he could try and take Dick's approach to the situation; nothing failed when the Golden Boy attempted to fix a problem. Jason tried to smile wide, but if felt wrong and made his face hurt. The idea was dismissed; there was no way he could be as cheerful as Dick. Jason Todd didn't do cheerful.

C'mon, Jay. He's just an angst-filled hormonal teenager, he thought to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. You can handle this.

Curiously he pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sound. There wasn't anything suspicious or loud enough for him to detect; not even the typing of keys from the laptop could be heard. Jason frowned a little and pulled back, staring once more at the only obstacle between Tim and him. Why did he feel so intimidated when he was the older one? This wasn't like charging into a hideout and having to dodge a dozen bullets, or falling into the middle of a gang war. It was nothing.

A piece of cake; simple; a straight shot.

Jason still couldn't move.

He might as well have been the one that had gotten paralyzed. The longer he stood there the more he could feel the annoyance coming to the front of his mind, pestering him.

"I'm the freakin' Red Hood, dammit," he muttered, grinding on his teeth. Why did he doubt himself? He could handle a smart aleck teen; no problem.

Taking his hands from his pockets, he grabbed a hold of the door handle and swung the door open, striding inside. He'd expected to see Tim buried under ten blankets and hiding his face from the world. What Jason had imagined himself doing was yanking the curtains open and making the teen get up from under the rock he'd been living under lately. Instead he was met with the surprising sight of Tim sitting up and trying to pull on a clean T-shirt. Jason suspected that with his very slim amount of strength it was a hard feat to accomplish.

"You could have called for someone," Jason pointed out and went over to Tim. "We respond to bloodcurdling screams pretty fast."

"I don't need help," Tim said, his voice clipped.

It caused Jason to stop, his eyes narrowing in aggravation. "What I'm seeing debunks your theory, kid."

"I thought I told everyone to leave me alone," Tim answered, and the anger seemed to give him a burst of strength; enough to pull his shirt on before he had to settle back against the pillows.

"Let me give you a tip," Jason replied, his voice tight. "When your family gives a damn to help you out, take them up on the offer. Or else you'll end up a crazed anti-hero that takes pleasure in pulling the trigger against your father's rules."

"I'm not like you," Tim answered, his glare so sharp that Jason thought it was going to cut into him.

That snapped him, and Jason clenched his hands into fists before pointing at the teen. "What is your problem? We've only done our best—I've been trying to help you and this is the response I get?"

Silently Tim glared at him, and then swung his feet to the floor. Jason didn't bother to assist him as Tim carefully got to his feet, fully intent on storming out of the room for sure. The teen grabbed a hold of the nightstand, leaning heavily into the wall. There was a spark of intensity in his eyes, and Jason could see his muscles straining to keep him up. Jason grit his teeth, staying locked where he was and not bothering to move. Tim pushed off the wall, taking a few steps forwards.

It didn't last long. His legs gave out from under him and Jason darted forwards and caught the boy before he could hit the ground. The most enraged, frustrated sound he'd ever heard filled his ears; Jason was shocked to find that it was Tim who had made it. The teen shoved himself away from the older man, collapsing back against the bed. His head was bowed, but Jason could still see the intense anger that shined in his blue irises.

"You're too weak," Jason said, and he didn't mean it as an insult.

But Tim seemed to have taken it that way. His head shot up and he yelled, "Shut up! I don't need to hear it from you!"

"Why?" Jason challenged, tossing his hands into the air. "I'm just trying—"

"Well stop," Tim said, his hands gripping the blanket underneath him. He suddenly took a deep breath, and his voice came in such a harsh whisper that it just begged for Jason's attention. "Look at me, Jason. I'm pathetic. If this were you or Dick, hell if this were Damian, any of you would be back on your feet by now. I can't even take more than a couple steps on my own."

"Tim," Jason said, and shook his head. "You were victim to an experimental drug that no one knows the effects of. No one is going to bounce back from that; even me with my amazing track record."

The teen stared at him, his anxiety filled expression wavering slightly, "So I'm not an embarrassment?"

"What?" Jason looked at him, his anger draining and filling him with confusion instead. "Tim, everyone gets hurt. We're not going to persecute you for it."

Tim exhaled, nodding a little. "Sorry…I've just…"

Without thinking about it, Jason put a hand on his shoulder. "You aren't letting anyone down. Just rest up and get well, then go out there and kick some Red Robin ass."

A small smile came onto Tim's face, "I'll try to manage that."

"Good," Jason answered, and then added, "And one more thing."

"What's that?" Tim asked, tipping his head to the side.

Jason smirked, "I'm the depressing one. Lighten up."