Archive of Our Own ^beta

There comes a time when you realize your brother isn’t your brother at all, that he’s just some ghost living in your home. A silent presence that sometimes gives you his company. A man that you see once every few days. It’s like living in a simulation. Only you’re the watcher. Not the one who controls things or lives there, just another soul, grasping at straws. And it’s weird because siblings are supposed to be best friends; more than best friends, it’s a blood bond that invisibly laces both.

Having a brother it’s supposed to be fun. Wild. It’s supposed to feel loving. Caring. Having Jason Todd in his life as his sibling is supposed to feel like having Dick as his big brother. It’s supposed to be fulfilling and thrilling. It’s supposed to make Tim feel okay.

So why is his arm bleeding?

Why is Jason still screaming?

His foggy mind somehow remembers Bruce, and he wonders if Batman is coming or if his brother will kill him. Maybe Tim should’ve been more careful. Maybe it’s his fault. He doesn’t even remember why this happened. There’s only this aching pain as if a rubber band was squeezing his whole heart.

Tim isn’t even worrying about the blood oozing from his arm.

A bullet. Jason had shot him.

Batman is going to be so angry at him. Not with Jason. With him; for trusting Red Hood, for not listening to orders, for having the intel wrong, for, for, for. Tim can go on. The list keeps expanding in his mind, but he forces it down when a black and blue-clad figure steps into his sight. 

“Robin! Status!”

Status. Tim’s mind is reeling. “Bullet. Left arm. Sharp but bearable pain.”

He doesn’t know where his voice is coming from.

The moment Dick approaches him, grabbing his hand, Tim lets go. The sobs rippling through his chest feel wrong, but a part of him knows he’s safe. Now that Dick is here, he’s safe. No one else in the world gives him this opening. No one else in the world makes him feel like he’s worth something. That is how a sibling is supposed to make you feel.

Jason hates him. It’s a fact. Well, maybe not hate ; that would mean Jason gives him a thought, but he doesn’t. Jason just doesn’t care about him at all. He may be Robin; he may have a special kind of power over Batman; he may be intelligent, empathetic, and brave, but Jason will never see those traits. Jason will continue to ignore him until the end of the world. Until life perishes for both of them or whoever dies first.

Tim hasn’t come to terms with that, but he gets it more than before. Those first months when Jason had come to the manor asking for help, Tim used to believe. He believed everything would turn out alright, that they could become a family. Tim had placed expectations and hopes over a man that doesn’t even see him. He’d known idealization was a fool’s game, but he hadn’t been able to stop his thoughts. He couldn’t stop dreaming.

As Dick carries him to the Batmobile, Tim keeps crying. He’s mourning, probably. Grief comes and takes everything apart after hope gives up on you. Tim wonders when would it stop. He wonders when will he start to feel fine again. He begs life that everything comes back to normal tomorrow. He wishes the awful feeling of having lost everything to disappear from his chest.

Because he hasn’t lost anything. He never had Jason’s affection, to begin with.

The years will pass and Jason will become a sour memory. Tim will have no memories at all. No recollection whatsoever about their brotherhood. Nothing to tie them back to a shared past. No long late-night conversations. No shared secrets. No shared jokes. No secret language. No visits to the park, the museum, or the stadium. No studying sessions. No workout sessions. 

Nothing.

Jason will become nothing to him, and it hurts. He had wanted to mean something to his brother. He’d wanted to have a normal life beside him. He’d wanted to feel accepted by him. 

Not even acceptance exists. Not for them.

Tim is barely aware of Bruce and Alfred talking by his side. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly weaker. A bullet to the arm should feel like a walk through the park for him. But there are lots of should’s in his life right now, so Tim doesn’t reprimand himself much. He lets his family help him out. Alfred whispers sweet nothings to him while Bruce is still here, beside him. He hears Dick asking about the mission, probably sitting by the computer. And, of course, no sights or hearings from Jason Todd. 

He knows it should be enough; to have his adoptive family’s love should be enough. But Tim is ambitious. He has always craved more than what he can have. He can’t help it. It’s only natural for him to make special bonds. Jason should be special too. Jason is special; the tag just isn’t reciprocated.

Alfred sedates him, something he usually doesn’t do, but Tim reckons it’s for the best. He was probably babbling, and crying and screaming too much. And even in this hazy state, Tim decides that later he’s going to lie and tell them he was also fear-gassed. That lie will make things worse between Bruce and Jason. But at this point, will it make too much of a difference? They barely look at each other. Every time one of them tries to start a conversation, they both end up shouting and storming off.

It hurts Tim because the fights between Bruce and Jason burst his hopeful bubble even more. That bubble is now dead, though.

Tim decides to let it go, for now.

He closes his eyes, still listening to his family talking, and wills his heart to not give up. Maybe Jason isn’t his brother at all, but Tim will not become just another ghost living in their home. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts, he needs to move on. There are lots of things that are supposed to be a certain way, having a broken family tie must be common, it must be. And if it isn’t… Tim will be okay. 

One day, he will feel okay.