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“I can’t do this anymore, Tim. This— it’s got to stop. You’re killing yourself and you won’t even tell me what’s wrong!”
Tim couldn’t blame Bernard for getting tired of him. His overwhelming shadow of secrets suffocated anyone who got close. It had jeopardized his relationship with Steph, and nearly broke him and his friends apart more than once. Tim supposed it was only a matter of time. The numbness in his mind overwrote the disappointment.
“Tim, I love you, but…”
And that’s always what it was, wasn’t it. I love you, but. No matter how hard Tim tried to be something to people, it always ended like this. Tim was capable of recognizing patterns. He knew he was the common variable every time. It was him that was unlovable. HIs parents knew that better than anyone. And even if Tim—
“Bernard, I’m…” Red Robin.
“Bernard, I…” love you too.
He still couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t fix anything anyway. It never did. So when Bernard inevitably left, he left too. For some reason, he didn’t take his bike or his car. Tim knew the city well enough. He wasn’t that far from home. Home being his apartment, not the manor. The manor wasn’t his home, not to Tim Drake Wayne. He… should have been smarter, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Because… shortcuts through alleyways meant something different to Waynes, but… Tim wasn’t a Wayne, was he? Yet the universe always seemed to try to tell him otherwise. He supposed he was a Wayne in the way the gunshot sounded. A flash bang that lit up the cracked brick walls of battered buildings. He was a Wayne in the way the blood poured from his chest as he crumpled to the concrete beneath him.
Today could have gone worse.
All things considered, this was the best case scenario. For everyone.
At least it wasn’t Bruce. Bruce Wayne, The Batman. The World’s Greatest Detective. Who knows what the world would do without him. A hero and a father to many. Not to Tim. He hoped the man who took him in would be proud of him. Even if Tim took advantage of his kindness on numerous occasions and forced his way into his life at the worst time possible. Even if Tim’s not his son. Just the annoying neighbour who got lucky one day. Right. As if Bruce would be proud of him after this. After everything. Tim may have saved The Batman’s life, but that doesn’t give him any right to intrude anymore. Tim’s done enough. There was no point in hoping for hopeless things. Tim tried not to think about the comfort of his praise.
———
“Now hit the showers. Take your time. Come up with other reasons you’re a terrible person and I’ll shoot those arguments down when you get back.”
“—And you came home safe. You made it a perfect Father’s Day, Tim.”
“You know, Tim… You’ve got a lot of qualities I aspire to, as well.”
A smile. Warmth. A pat on the shoulder. A p—
A punch.
“You don’t know a damn thing!”
———
At least it wasn’t Dick. Richard Grayson, the last of the Flying Graysons. Robin, Boy Wonder. Nightwing. Gotham would fall apart without its golden boy and so would Bruce. The first of his still growing collection of birds. Tim didn’t have any siblings, but Dick was the closest he ever got to having a big brother. For a long time, Dick did a good job. Tim knew that he was only repentance for Jason. A short-lived stand-in until Damian came along. He lapped it all up anyway like a starving man on death row. So it was his fault, really, for getting disappointed. It was only a matter of time. He should have known better. He’s had practice with this sort of thing after all.
———
“…No, you’re not catching me at a bad time. Talk to me.”
Pathetic.
“You’re my equal.”
Lies.
“How can you let him wear that costume, Dick? What earth are we on that you choose him over me?”
“You said we were gonna be okay!”
Betrayal.
———
At least it wasn’t Jason. Again. Jason Todd, a street rat brave enough to steal the tires off of the Batmobile along with The Batman’s heart in tow and then hit The Batman Himself with a tire iron. Robin. His Robin. Red Hood, the crime boss. Tim had seen firsthand what Jason’s death had done the man beneath the mask. It had broken him. Bruce was never the same man as he was before Jason was brutally murdered by the Joker. No one’s explicitly said so, but it’s true. No matter how hard Tim tried to fit in with him, the hole that Jason left could not be filled. With Jason back… their relationship is strained but perhaps all of this will unite them once again. Tim won’t be in the way anymore like he has been for years. He can’t help but wonder how different everything would be if he hadn’t intervened. Jason could have returned safely and been welcomed with open arms. Oh well… what’s done is done.
Jason didn’t have to hate him anymore. The man who used to be the kid who was his hero. Tim can’t really blame him though. He’s not an easy person to like.
———
“Easy? You wanna know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You slept in a bed.”
“Let me show you what the Joker did to me. And let’s find out how tough you really are.”
Weak.
“Replacement.”
Pointless.
“Do you think you’re that good now!? Do you really, Tim?”
No, he really wasn’t.
———
At least it wasn’t Damian. Damian Wayne, the blood son. Heir to the Demon, Ra’s Al Ghul. Robin. He’d been a surprise addition to the family, but that didn’t make him any less beloved. Unlike Tim. Dick had made a pretty fast connection with the boy which had only strengthened after Bruce’s death disappearance. Damian had been chosen to be Robin over Tim after that. Tim couldn’t be trusted even though he was right. It didn’t matter. Tim figured everything out on his own like he always has. He supposed he couldn’t be angry with Dick anymore. Damian was just a kid, he couldn’t be angry with him either. There was no point. They’re not really family after all.
———
“—And you don’t deserve any of this. You’re adopted! But when you’re gone, I’ll take my rightful place at my father’s side… as Batman’s son!”
A stand-in. That’s all he ever was.
“He’s not your real son, I am! It’s my right to replace him.”
It’s all he ever will be.
———
At least it wasn’t Steph, or Cass… or Duke or Harper or— anyone. Thank god for that.
Could have been a worse day. Could have been anyone here, in this alley. Could have been anyone’s blood pooled on the cracked concrete.
At least it was Tim, and not anyone else. Timothy Drake Wayne. Robin, the replacement. The fake. The one who chose Bruce and not the other way around. Even Red Robin wasn’t his own. Tim, with no parents to disappoint, no family to miss him, no friends to search for his body. He hadn’t spoken to the Titans in months. None of them have reached out. He’s looked at the news when his resolve has failed, and they’re still going strong. Better, without him. A good thing, Tim thought. This will be easy on them then. He had tied up all the loose ends weeks ago. No unfinished business for a lonely, broken bird.
It was hard to form thoughts now. The pain had dulled to a steady throb in the back of his head, but his brain remained in a foggy haze. The tips of his fingers grew numb in the cold wind of December. His parents said they would be home this year. They have missed Christmas before but he could’ve… could’ve sworn… he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He always did.
Distantly, a rapid knocking sounded. They were home! They were really here! A blissful warmth settled in Tim’s chest and— oh, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. The knocking continued, and if one listened long enough, it would almost sound like footsteps.