Hey everyone! Hope you are doing well! This chapter is all about Tim! If any of you are Jack Drake fans, turn back or skip ahead, because I'm not and it shows. Hope you enjoy Whumptober Prompt 3 and leave me a comment for any prompts your excited for! Lots of Love - Lorna:)

Set up for Failure

Tim sat numbly on his bed, eyes glazed over. He thought that if he were normal, he'd probably cry, but he wasn't normal and so he wasn't crying. No, he was just sitting here, useless. Typical Tim. Can't do anything right, can't do anything well. At least not well enough to get any sort of positive reaction out of his parents. Not that he expected that of them of course. They were busy, and he was a hard child. He didn't mean to be. He tried, had been trying for years, to make their lives easier, but he couldn't help that he was difficult.

Jack had thoroughly yelled at him tonight for his shortcomings. It was probably a long time coming. He had come back a little early from his trip, only to find Tim asleep on a chair, bag sitting on the counter and his jacket tossed on the couch. A total embarrassment for his father as he walked through the door. Their driver had seen what a disaster Tim was when he brought Jack's bags in. After being rudely awakened and screamed at for what had felt like a long time, Jack had made him clean his mess and sent him to his room without dinner. Not the worst punishment but Tim hadn't eaten for at least a day, maybe more. Then he had taken away Tim's computer, and banned him from leaving the house for a week. School and the mansion. That was it. Tim could feel his heart drop at that but he didn't interrupt or argue. That must not have been the reaction that Jack had wanted and Tim almost hit himself for not seeing it. He was supposed to be a genius and yet he couldn't figure out what the one person he needed to understand wanted from him. Jack hissed at him, anger seething, and threatened to kick Tim out of the mansion, if he felt that he could be so ungrateful.

Tim didn't understand, but he'd remember this, try to be better. He promised himself this time it would work. Now Tim didn't know if he should be packing a bag. Was Jack serious? He sounded serious. But what if he wasn't? If he saw Tim packing a bag, then he would think Tim was taking him up on his offer. But if he was serious, then Tim couldn't afford to not be prepared. He would need clothes, money, things for the next couple of days until Jack had cooled off. He couldn't win. Either way he lost. So he just slid off his bed and onto the floor, trying to make himself get up the courage to decide.

He could hear Jack stomping up the stairs, and Tim could feel his heart rate pick up. He hated himself for that reaction. The door was flung open with force, and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. Too much to be healthy. Not enough to make Jack forget his anger. Just right for making Tim scared out of his wits. His robin training was buzzing beneath his skin in warning.

Jack growled as he walked toward Tim, grabbing his arm so tightly that Tim was aware it would bruise. He blinked at that thought and then let it fall away. He'd been bruised plenty. He'd probably not even notice it. He yanked Tim upwards and Tim released a sharp breath he tried to hide. Not well enough apparently because Jack's eyes turned to him in a flash of fury.

"Out. Spoiled rotten." Jack slurred. "Night side' will teach you grat-i-tude, sponcibility'."

Tim's eyes went wide. It was a Gotham winter, which meant it was bitterly cold, wet, and definitely not the place for anyone to spend more than ten minutes, especially in his school uniform, without even his jacket to help ward off the cold.

"W-wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Pl-please."

Jack just grunted in response and kept pulling Tim down the stairs.

"Wait!" Tim started to feel desperate. "Please. Let-let me get a jacket. It's snowing."

"No." Jack growled drunkenly. "Y'll manag'. Ther' r' dry spots."

The Robin part of him had gone from buzzing with warmth to vibrating with agitation. It was screaming at him to get free, to escape. He could do it too. One twist was all it would take, and he would be free. But he couldn't, because he was Tim Drake, not Red Robin, not even Batman's Robin, and revealing any sort of hidden fighting talent was risking the only thing Tim enjoyed. So he let himself be thrown into the bitter cold, let the door be slammed in his face.

He blinked once, twice. He let the wind blow snow onto his clothes, which were already beginning to become wet. He felt numb. Absently, he let the Robin in him take over, and it was a blessing. It stopped the little voice in his head that was telling him how wrong this was and just let Tim Drake feel nothing at all for a minute. His feet moved of their own accord. Tim absently thought they were finding a place to take shelter from the coming storm, Robin's voice in his head claimed they were. The next thing he knew, he was at the front door to Wayne Manor. His entire body was shivering and wet, and his hand hurt from ramming his frozen fingers against the hard wood door.

It creaked open slowly, revealing Bruce in his sleepwear. "Tim?"

Tim blinked again, three times in sharp succession. He didn't know what to say. It was late, nearly midnight, and Bruce hadn't patrolled tonight because Alfred was out of town. Tim hadn't thought about this, cursed himself for not realizing that of course his training would lead him here. Luckily, Robin had apparently thought this through because before Tim could think of an apology, the words "Robin Rule 3" were already out of his mouth.

Bruce's eyes went hard for a moment, and then soft again as he took in the sight of Tim, every sopping, shuddering inch of him.

"Good job, Timmy. I'm proud of you. Come inside, we'll get you warm, okay?" Bruce put a gentle hand on Tim's shoulder to lead him inside the warmth of the manor. He forced his face to be comforting, if not neutral, but inside he was seething. Jack Drake was behind this, behind his teenage son shivering on his doorstep. He knew that man had done this, and he was going to make him suffer for it.

He led Tim to his room and told him to take off his wet clothes, while he started a warm shower. He came back to see that Tim hadn't moved, looking confused and dazed. Deciding that enough was enough, Bruce nudged Tim to follow him, carefully guiding him, in his clothes and all, into the steaming water. Tim hissed through his teeth as the water touched his frozen skin. Bruce winced. Despite the water being only slightly warmer than room temperature, it probably burned with how frigid Tim had been. After a few moments though, Bruce got the desired effect and Tim warmed up enough to stop shivering. His eyes slowly defogged and clarity returned.

"Bruce?"

He nodded.

"I umm… I think my uniform is probably ruined."

Bruce wanted to simultaneously laugh and cry at the direction this had taken. "I can get you another one. Luckily, it's the weekend."

"Can I get out?" Tim whispered after another moment, embarrassment painting his cheeks a flushed red color. Bruce was just grateful color had returned to Tim's pale features.

"Yeah. Leave your clothes in the shower. Here are some pajamas." Bruce put a towel and a set of folded clothes on the floor outside the shower. Tim nodded.

"Thank you." He breathed.

Bruce walked out of the bathroom and shut the door, trying to rein in his temper. He would not take it out on Tim, even if repressing his hatred for Jack Drake killed him. He made himself busy by pulling the covers on Tim's bed down to make it more comfortable, and running to grab Tim a glass of water and some warm toast. He needed to be quick and, as his children frequently commented, Bruce was not a master of the kitchen. Tim still wasn't out by the time Bruce had finished, so he sat on the bed, waiting for Tim to come out, which he did a short time later.

"Hey bud, I've got some food for you here and water."

Tim shook his head. "I- I'm not hungry. I shouldn't be eating anyway, I'm not supposed to."

Bruce felt rage build in him and he pushed it down. "Timmy, I know you haven't eaten for a while." He didn't know for sure, but he could say that and 9 times out of 10 he'd probably be right. Same with sleep. The guilty expression on Tim's face didn't help his case either. "Eat the toast and finish the water alright?"

Tim hesitated as he took the food and the glass, but he devoured the toast as though he had been starving and slowly drank until the cup was empty. Bruce thought he probably did that more for Bruce's sake than his own.

"Better?"

Tim nodded. "M' sorry. You should go to bed. I didn't- I shouldn't have bothered you. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Bruce shook his head. "I was already awake, Tim, and even if I wasn't, I'm glad you came here and followed the rules. Do you remember Rule 1?"

Tim nodded, the corners of his mouth tilting into a little smile. "Follow the Robin Rules at all times."

Bruce ruffled the teen's hair. "Follow the Robin Rules at all times." He agreed. "Civilian identity or not. Midnight or not."

"Ok." Tim whispered.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He didn't need to ask. He knew. He knew in his heart who had done this.

"I- I messed up. I wasn't where I was supposed to be when he got home." Tim replied. "I didn't give him the reaction he wanted. He said I had to sleep outside. I don't know what I did wrong, but I messed up again. I always do."

Bruce promised to make Drake's life as miserable as possible, and hoped to take Tim away from Jack. He had been trying for a while now, but this was going to put it over the edge. Jack Drake was going to receive a nasty call tomorrow.

"Sorry, Timmy. But you didn't do anything wrong, okay?" Bruce murmured as he guided his ward into bed. Tim just let Bruce do whatever he needed, and it warmed his heart that despite everything, Tim trusted him. He pulled the covers over Tim and then sat by his side, running a hand through Tim's dark, damp hair. "It's going to be okay. This will never happen again."

Tim blinked at Bruce, his eyes starting to water. "I don't really want to go back," he admitted. "I don't-"

Bruce could see the struggle in Tim's gaze, in his rigid features. "I know, bud. After tonight, he's never gonna be able to do this again."

Maybe it was because he was so tired. Maybe it was the fading adrenaline. Maybe it was just relief, but whatever the reason, Tim started to cry. He hated that he was crying, and yet he couldn't make himself stop. "Please don't let him take me, dad."

Bruce didn't hesitate before tenderly wiping the tears off Tim's cheeks and kissing his forehead. "I won't, baby bird. I promise."