Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason was awake in an instant, the usual haze of not being fully aware of everything and sleep filled annoyance at not being able to fully grasp what had woken him up or why filling him. He huffed and rolled over, getting comfortable when nothing seemed to stand out as to what woke him. He tries to dismiss the paranoia creeping in. It's probably his damn brain latching onto the training of hearing one noise out of place and going into hyperdrive. It had happened far too often when he first started living at the Manor and then entirely too often after the pit. Which was a good thing considering the fucked up training- cough cough assassination attempts cough cough- with the league.

And then he heard it again— Knock, knock, knock— he was up out of the bed; the handgun he kept under his pillow in his hand before he registered it. By the time he was at the door the perpetrator who thought it’d be a good idea to fuck around and find out was was behind, the safety was off and his finger was itching to pull the trigger as any fear, precaution and confusion swiftly got swallowed into a green tinted anger that he’s sure as hell not prepared to fight down. He’d be stupid to not be weary of the knocking— especially in this area.

Logically; it couldn’t be the bats— the old man would never knock— not like before at the mansion— quit think about that— it doesn’t matter and Dick likes to pretend to knock— more of an announcement before just bumbling in like the asshole he is. And the Pretender— he’d know better than to even try. He’s pretty sure the Bats put their precious little replacement Robin on lockdown— or at least hasn’t been letting him patrol anywhere near crime alley. Not that he blames them— he’s almost certain that he’s maiming the asshole on sight.

Sure, he’s kinda doin better with the bats— but that doesn’t mean he wants them anywhere near his safe houses. Fuck— if he has to burn this location that’s really gonna suck. This is his favorite. He’ll need to snag as many of the items he wants to keep before moving on if this is really Dickwing or Bat-bitch-man. Just because he’s got a tentative truce of them staying the fuck outta his area and he doesn’t kill every single asshole who goes around breaking his rules, well that’s all they should be asking for. Dammit! He really doesn’t want to deal with any of them.

Knock… knock… thump— “For fuckssake if you’ve got a damn death wish I’ll happily obli—“ and his thoughts froze as he tossed the door open, gun cocked as whoever— no, he recognized that face; even if he can barely see it with the only light coming from behind the figure and their hood shrouding a good portion of their face away from the light—what in the absolute fuck is this?— as if just barely caught themself from falling into the open door using the edge of the doorframe.

There in all their pathetic glory stood Robi— those glassy blue eyes held… is that relief?! as they met Jason’s— he’s not wearing a mask. Jason takes the runt in, fully looking him over. He’s in disheveled civvies— no mask— hair looking like he hadn’t even bothered to brush it before tossing a hood on it as if it’d give an excuse for it.

“Oh thank god—“ Tim’s shoulders nearly sagged— why the fuck would this asshole be relieved to see him— is this some sort of false— ah. Jason pursed his lips. This is some sort of bait. It has to be. The pretender’s a planner and obviously he thinks Jason is stupid enough to fall for it. “I wasn’t sure y-you’d be here— and I—“ the fucker cuts off as the cool steel of the barrel presses into his skin— his eyes flashing wider with both panic and something Jason vaguely registers as resigned.

“You better start fucking talking and give me one good damn reason not to pull this fucking trigger.”

The asshole sways— blinks up at him as if he’s not completely understanding what is being said before his expression just shatters— refusing to meet Jason’s eyes. “‘M sorry— I— I didn’t— I don’t have—“ it barely registers to him that the fucker sounds like his throat is raw— like it’s hurting to speak— and he feels a little vindicated and gleeful at the passing thought. And that tremor in his shoulders? Yeah the little shit should be scared of him.

“D-d-didn’t what?” Jason sneers, anger boiling in his chest as well as sick enjoyment at seeing the smaller form tremble. What karmic deity did he piss off this time to have his sleep interrupted with this farce? What the fuck does he even think he’d accomplish with something like this? “Spit it out Pretender!”

He wasn’t prepared for the tears slipping out of the other’s tightly squeezed shut eyes as he leaned against the doorframe harder— as if the wall was the only thing keeping him up at the moment, shoulders hunching up making him look smaller. Jason has to strain to hear him. “I-I didn’t know where else to go…”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean—“ and that fucking asshole in all his-his— fuck! Jason hated when words decided to fail him because the pit is howling for a release— that fucker decides to interrupt him again.

“S-sorry— can’t—s’ay- think ‘mmm pa’sss’ng out. Sss’ry—“

Jason scrambled to catch him before he went down, barely registering that he turned the safety back on and shoving the gun into his waistline. His brain froze for the second time since he’s been up as he held the preten—runt— kid— he’s holding a kid— a kid that just let out the quietest whimper he’s heard someone mostly unconscious make in a long time— his thoughts are frozen but the green-the pit is quiet. There’s no green telling him how much he needs to hurt him— this kid— to fuck! Why couldn’t this have happened before? Was it because he wasn’t in uniform?

He shifts to adjust the weight of the kid before it registers that the kid is entirely lighter than he’d been expecting. Unease is spreading through him as he pulls the both of them back into the apartment and locks the door up before making his way to dump the pre— Tim— to dump Tim onto his couch.

Or more like taking entirely too much care to set Tim down on the couch gently— attempting to not jostle him too much— his brain running through the possibilities of what happened. His thoughts jumping from one to the next of maybe he’d been mugged to maybe he’d gotten hurt on patrol— to his brain just dismissing each one because it doesn’t make sense! Why’d he come to him? Why would he have thought this would be a place to come to? Doesn’t he understand that Jason’s almost killed him? Several times? Does this kid really lack self preservation skills? Christ, what the fuck is this dumbass thinking?

He shoved the thoughts away as he pushed himself from the couch, trying to stay focused. He needs to check for injuries. Check to make sure the fucker isn’t going to implement him in his death. Surely, he didn’t come here because he was dying right? He made quick work of snagging his first aid kit from under the bathroom sink, a damp cloth so he can wipe the kids face, his flashlight and one of the softest blankets he’d managed to snag from the mansion the last time he’d been there before making his way back to his couch. He set everything down on the coffee table, aside from the blanket which he quietly set next to Tim.

He moved away again to turn on lights so he could properly dress any wounds this idiot must’ve passed out from— Alfred would have his hide if he found out he’d half assed it. Setting the gun down where he’d have quick access but it’d be unlikely for the Runt to be able to steal it, he moved to the kitchen. He grabbed some bottles of water before he was standing in front of Tim again. He gave a soft sigh, before pulling his table over— closer to the table; kneeling in front of him.

He grabbed his flashlight, before gently reaching over to shake the kid awake. “Pre— Tim. Hey Tim, wakey wakey. Need to check you for a concussion— come on— try and wake up for me kid— come on.”

The kid inhaled sharply, eyes flashing open as he jerked away from Jason’s touch— Jason dropped his hand away from him— his eye’s dancing wildly around them, his shoulders tensing and hunching in on his again before recognition flashed through his eyes and he sagged in relief again. The hood of his hoodie had finally fallen off him, leaving his face in clear view. And boy, did he look like he’d been through the wringer. Especially noticeable is that split lip and the bruise that’s been forming on his cheek bone though those didn’t look exactly fresh. The lip wasn’t quite bleeding and looked scabbed over. A glance towards where the kid's chin gets engulfed and hidden by his hoodie looks like it has more bruising peeking out around his throat. He’ll need to get the hoodie off of him to actually inspect it.

Jason is just gonna put a pin in the uncomfortable awareness that it’s wrong that Tim’s registering him with a feeling of safety— even if he’s still more guarded than he was at the door, for later.

“Tim, kid, hey, it’s okay. Concussion. I need to uh— I need to check for that. Okay? I’m going to be careful of that bruise you’ve got but I need-“ he rambles trying to convey that everything is okay. That he won’t hurt him.

“N-not con-concussed.” Tim forces out, wincing as the words come out raspy and his breath comes out in a short gasped pain. Should he add the possibility of bruised ribs to this?

Jason gives his own sympathy wince before grabbing one of the bottles he’d set aside. He doesn’t make a move to open it, but holds it up offering to him. “Shit, that sounds like it hurts baby bird. How about some water and then you can explain why I shouldn’t check you for a concussion? Hmm?” Or even a brain injury in general. How is Jason a safe option? If he’s not concussed— how did this dumbass figure the guy who’s tried to kill and has maimed him was a good idea to go to?

Tim eyed the water before shaking his head. “I don’t— ‘m not thirsty.” He rasped, fighting another wince from speaking. He struggled for a moment, eyes falling into his lap— refusing to meet Jason’s. “D-didn’t hit my head. Not concussed.”

“Kid, you know that wouldn’t fly with Afie—“ he tries to ignore the flinch that the kid has at the mere mention of him— and fuck Alfred’s literally a saint— Jason’s hoping that the kid came here to avoid a lecture for doing something stupid. Fuck, he can’t think of any other reason the kid would flinch like that at Alfred’s named. “—you came here to me, so we do this my way. Your throat sounds all kids of fucked— so do me a favor and drink this— or I’ll just call him to come get yo—“

“No! No! Don’t call him! Don’t call anyone! Please don’t—“ the kid rambles, reaching out to snatch the water from him, his knuckles tight as he held it close to him— his eyes wide in panic. “I‘ll—I’ll try! Please I’ll try!—“

“Kid! Tim! Deep breath— in… out... there you go— keep breathing just like that. It’s okay. I won’t call him okay?” It takes a couple minutes for Tim’s lungs to remember how to breathe on its own, but that seemed good enough for Jason. “Try to drink some so you’re not straining your throat so much. It sounds like it hurts. I’ve got some over the counter pain meds if you want. It, uh, might help?” Jason offered, holding his hands up in mock surrender, equal parts confused, concerned and angry. It’s easy to be angry considering almost everything seems to get swallowed by the pit. Every emotion spins and churns until it’s anger and then the pit uses it as fuel.
He forces himself to inhale slowly before exhaling, trying to keep a lid on everything.

Freaking out on the kid isn’t going to help anything. “Do you need something for the pain?” The kid isn’t looking at him again. He shook his head. “You passed out as soon as you got here; I am not just let you sit there when you’re obviously hurt. Got it? So tell me what I can do to help, okay kid? That’s why you came here isn’t it? For help?”

“N-no… I can— I can handle that stuff a-alone. Just— just didn’t know… where else to go…” Tim forced out, a quiet sniffle escaping him. And fuck, Jason isn’t good at kids and crying. Not to mention this kid specifically.

“You said that earlier.” Astute observation, captain obvious! Jason mentally scolds himself. He swallows down the questions of ‘Why couldn’t you go home? Or to Dickie’s— why me kid?’ “Look Tim, I can’t help if you don’t let me. So, either you let me help with your injuries— cause you and I both know Alfred will lecture us both to hell and back with his disappointed look if he finds out you came here and insisted on handling things alone— or you let me call someone to come help ya. I’ll even call Dickhead if you want. Or one of your friends. Hell, I can even help get you to Leslie’s if you’re really insistent on not letting me get your brother or Alfie. So take a drink and then pick. Capiche?”

The kid’s trembling again, and he sniffles, using his sleeve to shakily wipe at his face. “I… why?”

“Why what?” Jason exhaled sharply, the irritation spiking before he could swallow it down again. “Why won’t I let you handle any of those injuries alone? Why the water?”

Tim hesitated before shaking his head. Jason was about to open his mouth to ask more questions when Tim started forcing himself to talk again, despite how halting it was. Jason’s sure he’d feel better if the kid would just drink some water. “Why do you… care? I… all I need is to just… I just needed somewhere… safe? Safe.” He repeats as if confirming for himself that’s why he came. “I can—I can handle everything else myself… just for a little while. Then I’ll… I’ll be gone and I won’t bother you anymore…”

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Jason’s hands feel clammy and the uncomfortable feeling he’s been trying to ignore grow. The kid regards this as safe? But didn’t expect him to care? If he wouldn’t care— why in the hell would it be safe?! He takes another controlled breath, those can be handled later. Right now he needs to focus on getting the kid to drink something and letting someone help with whatever injuries he got.

“Kid— Timmy, what do you mean you won’t bother me? You’re not really bothering me now, I’m butting my nose in because you’re a kid— and I have the availability to help. I already told you I’m not letting you handle your injuries alone.” He hesitates, “Come on, baby bird, you don’t just show up on someone’s doorstep and expect them to hang you out to dry, do ya?”

Tim’s silence spoke just as loud as anything the kid could have said. “Fuck, okay— well that’s not something we’ll focus on right now. Let’s just get you to drink some of that water, okay?“ the kid hesitates again but gives him a small nod. He finally makes the move to open the bottle and with a twist and click the lid in one hand as he just stares at it, his lips pressed into a firm line. He looks as if there’s something inherently wrong with it.

“What’s wrong with the water kid? It’s probably going to be more soothing to that throat of yours than the tap will.” Not that he’d willingly give someone the tap. It was a risk to use it, never exactly knowing if someone spiked the water supply again.

The kid pressed his lips even more together. He peeks a glance up at Jason, who only quirks an eyebrow in response. Tim seems to deflate, eyes back to the water. “Nauseas. I’ve already thrown it up— I don’t really want to do it again— there’s no point.”

Jason’s brows furrow at the phrasing. Something about it is tickling the warning signals but he can’t place it exactly. “I’ve got crackers and tums.” he offered. “Might help with the nausea. Or you already try that and throw up?”

Gods, so it’s looking more like the kid got mugged and he’s sick. How could anyone let him out like this? The fuck is Bruce even thinking? What if Jason hadn’t been able to push past the pit? This kid would have literally been so fucked if the pit hadn’t dissipated the hostility he’d had when he woke up.

He ignored the way his thoughts focused on the conflict of Tim being both Robin and a child. He don’t hurt kids— that’s one of his rules— but he’s already hurt Tim plenty of times. Too many times. And yet the kid still thought he’d be safe here? Something isn’t adding up. And with the resistance to calling anyone to help— he doesn’t like the picture his thoughts are painting up for him.

Tim hesitated again, sniffling as he shook his head. “N-no. I’m— I’ll just… I’ll try to drink this.”

“Slow sips then. I’ll… I’ll go grab a waste bin on the off chance it makes you sick. Okay?” He waits until Tim nods again before pushing himself up to standing again— his knees giving quiet pops from being in that position so long. He didn’t miss Tim’s hands tightening on the bottle nor did he miss the way the kid flinched as he stood before relaxing as he moved away.

Jesus, was this something Bruce did then? Is that why the kid showed up here? Because Bruce can’t learn how to fucking handle his kids? His anger flared up and he gritted his teeth as he made his way to the kitchen. He forced himself to focus on Tim. He can’t just allow himself to focus on his simmering anger— not while the kid still had injuries he needed to coax to look at. He grabbed a couple of his ice packs and the waste bin as soon s he’d shoved the green back enough to breathe easier.

He made sure to telegraph his movements, making sure the kid was as aware as he could be in regards to him. Where he’s at. What he’s got. What he’s going to do. “Okay kid, I’m gonna be sitting in front of ya again. I’ve got the bin. You still feeling sick?” He asked as he kneeled down in front of him. The kid nodded but forced himself to take the tiniest sip he could— just enough to coat his mouth. Jason sets the bin next to him, careful not to actually touch the kid. “Okay, and I’ve got some ice packs— wait, you’re not bleeding right? I mean, it’s okay if you are, but we should really get that shit cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected. So you bleeding anywhere, aside from that split lip?”

“Don’t think so…” Tim shook his head. “Think I’m ju-Just… bruised. Don’t think anything’s really sprained or broke either.” He refused to look at Jason again but he seemed to be trying with the water even if he’s doing it as slowly as he can as he raised it for another tiny sip.

“Okay, then I won’t push to look at your injuries yet. We can let you ice up and drink your water before we do anything else. Sound like a plan?” Jason offered. If the kid wasn’t gonna open up to him he’d have to see if Dickwing is in Gotham tonight. Maybe Dickie would at least be able to confirm whether the kid had a fight with Bruce or if the kid had even been on patrol. He can beat the shit outta Bats at any point if the asshole is the one who fucked this kid up.

Tim hesitated before nodding again. “Okay… I… I’m not sure I need the ice though… I can manage—“

“Nope. Didn’t ask whether you could manage without ice. You denied the pain meds so just use the packs. I have like three more if these aren’t enough. You should definitely hold one up to that face of yours— it’s been swelling.” Jason paused. “Do you need more than what I grabbed? This is the extent I’ll ask until you’re done with the water and iced up. Are the three I have here enough or do you need or want more?”

Tim watched him for a moment before looking away. “I… I can make do with three.”

Jason exhaled— fighting the urge to snap. He set the ice packs on the blanket beside the runt. “Fine. Okay. Whatever. I’m gonna go make me some tea— lemme know if you need anything. And keep drinking that water. Got it, baby bird?” Tim nodded. “Good. Put the ice on — if you get too cold, put the packs on the table and use the blanket. Got it?” Another nod. “Good. Great.” Jason pushed himself up again, slower than he had before. His lips twitched up at the fact that the kid was watching him but not flinching. He made his way back to the kitchen before pulling his phone out and shooting a quick text to the golden boy. He told Tim he wouldn’t call anyone. And it’s not like he’s going to invite Dick over yet but he can at least start investigating what the hell happened.

The-talking-dead
Yo dickwing— you in town tonight?

And with that out of the way, he set the device on the countertop before he filled his kettle up and stuck it on the stove. Maybe he’d make the kid some of Alfie’s hot chocolate after he’s sure he’s not going to throw it up. It never tastes good coming back up. He shuddered shaking the thoughts away as his phone started lit up. He scowled and ignored the call. Fucking idiot. If he wanted to have a call he’d have fucking called.

He gave a soft huff, pulling his a mug out with a Shakespeare quote on it. The fucking Dick can chill out while he finishes getting his tea ready. Another call flashed on the screen and he ignored it again, reaching up for his tea bags— mint— something Alfred had gotten him hooked on. Not to mention it helped him relax and get a bit of a better grip on the pit. Once he only had the kettle to wait on, he checked his messages.

On the flip side :)
Why? Something going down? You need a wingman?
Come on answer little wing :((
:((((((
Is everything ok?
Srsly you never message and then ignore my calls. What’s going on?

The-talking-dead
Christ you’re annoying. I hardly message at all, much less do a call.
I just need to know if you’re in Gotham, got it?
Can you answer that for me or not?

On the flip side :)
I’m not… but I just got back from my nightly walk. I can be in Gotham in like three-ish hours if it’s important
By which I mean, if you want me to come over, I will. Your important, little wing.

Jason rolled his eyes with a scoff as the texts spammed in. He glanced out into the living room, noticing the kid didn’t hardly move since he’s been in here aside from having the blanket wrapped around him. Good, at least he’s not pretending he doesn't need anything and hasn’t thrown up yet. “Hey, you still doing good out there?” He called out to him. He watched the kid flinch— and flinch hard.

Fuck, whatever happened spooked him bad if he’s still on edge. Or maybe it’s just being around him— which granted maybe he wasn’t expecting Jason to be so insistent on helping even if he was semi-sure Jason wouldn’t hurt him. No, more than likely he was expecting Jason to let him do his own thing. “Y-yeah… I-I’m okay…”

“If you’re sure.” Jason called back, frowning. Fuck, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this kid. If the kid’s totally resistant to getting help from him, maybe he can see if Leslie will do a house visit— just to be certain the run isn’t hiding injuries. He turned his attention back to his phone. A lost venture considering Dickhead isn’t in town; he’s doubtful that he’s aware of whatever happened. Dammit. Back to square one.

The-talking-dead
Fuck, you’re such a fucking sap. I’m fine. I’m not sure if you should head this way or not yet. I’ll keep you updated.

On the flip side :)
Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on, Jaybird?
Are you hurt?? :(((
Do I need to fight someone?

The-talking-dead
No. It’s not me. Like I said; I’ll keep you updated. Keep an ear out for a call. Get some rest or something while you wait.
And I can handle myself Dick.

On the flip side :)
I was planning on heading to Gotham soon anyway. Me coming early won’t hurt anything. Worse comes to worse I’m sure I can convince Baby Bird to hang out with me.

Jason bit his lip. Dammit— he shouldn’t have texted. He’ll have roughly three hours maybe four hours max to get this handled before Dick decides to say fuck it and come over anyway. Especially if he can’t find the kid. Fuck this shit— this’ll be hell in a hand basket if he can’t fix this.

The-talking-dead
Whatever. If you feel up to the drive then go for it. There’s still no rush. I’ll let you know if you need to come over or if the rush thing changes.

On the flip side :)
Got it little wing!
Be there soon!
<3

Chapter Text

Jason huffed, clicking his phone screen off, just in time for the kettle scream to go off. “Talk about perfect timing.” He grumbled, grabbing the kettle by its handle off the heat and pouring it into his mug. He put the kettle on a back burner and turned the heat off before glancing back into the living room again. 

The kid only seems to have curled up under the blanket even further. Jason wouldn’t really be surprised if the little shit had fallen asleep. Fuck. As coherent as Tim had seemed, Jason still wasn’t sure he didn’t have a concussion. He should have pressed for that at least. Especially if Tim was tired. He knows for a fact he can probably let him be for another couple minutes if it is one. A mild one anyway, if one at all. He exhaled softly. “You still awake out there baby bird?”

He wasn’t expecting a response really. Once again he watched as the smaller of the them practically bolts upright, barely muffling a pained gasp at the jerkiness of the movement. Jason winced, even as the kid called back. “A-awake… ‘m wake. Promise.” 

“Try staying that way. Not good to fall asleep with ice packs. Besides, I still haven’t gotten to check you for a concussion.” He rolled his eyes when the younger of them started to twist to peer into the kitchen before giving up halfway as if it hurt too much. “Despite popular belief, I’d rather not have to move your body if you fall asleep and have a brain injury or something kid. No check means I treat this like protocol. You’ve got a concussion until we clear ya.”

“Whatever… I’m r‘lly not con’ussed though.” 

“See, I’d be more inclined to believe ya if you weren’t slurrin your words kiddo.”

He could see the little brat bristle. “I’m not a kid! Quit calling me one!” And Jason can see when Tim realises how petulant that sounded. The smaller of them hunching his shoulders and drawing the blanket around himself, and what Jason assumes is curling in on himself as he mostly disappears, the back of the couch hiding him. “I’m not a kid.”

“See, I dunno what them bats been telling you but you’re a kid. Plain and simple.” Jason calls back, taking the tea bag out of his mug and tossing it. “A very capable kid— but a kid nonetheless.”

The kid goes quiet as Jason makes his way back into the living room. The kid is staring at him with narrowed eyes— the blanket covering him too much for Jason to see where he hid the ice packs. He seems to wait for Jason to set his mug down before speaking. 

“I’m not a kid.” He repeats through gritted teeth, as if trying to bite back a snarl or perhaps he’s just trying not to cry. Either way Jason tries to not let himself bristle in response because despite the bravado, he can tell the kid is trying to make himself as small as possible under that blanket as discreetly as he can. Trying to be as non-threatening as possible. 

Jason needs to stay calm and not let the kid press his buttons if he wants to make sure he’s okay. He remembers doing the same kinda thing with both Dick and Bruce because he knew he was safe— but he was also constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Hood protects kids. If I were a kid — if you saw me as a kid, then you wouldn’t have beat me with my own staff and written a message on the wall using my blood as ink.” 

If Jason were still holding his tea, he’s sure he would have dropped it, likely all over himself. He’s shell shocked as the guilt and green fight and claw their way through him— trying to break out of the reluctant leash he has on them. He is just a kid. He hurt a kid. And his only excuse was because he was angry at daddy-bats for replacing him. He almost killed a kid and it wasn’t even the kids fault. It made his stomach churn. 

He clamps down on the emotions, gritting his teeth. He needs to get a hold of himself. A quiet hitched breath draws his attention to the kid. The kid that is trembling yet again, fingers white as he gripped the blanket, even with his face set into a terrified sneer. Fuck, he’s absolutely terrified of Jason and standing over him being fighting the pit isn’t helping anything. 

It takes far too much effort for Jason to force himself to stalk back off to the kitchen, feet hitting his floor louder than necessary and back to the kitchen sink. He doesn’t hesitate to turn the water on for background noise so he can try to force the green away.  

Besides, the kid is telling the truth. Had he been in his right mind he’d have not taken his anger for Bruce out on Tim. He’d not have done that through jealousy alone. Without the Pit’s influence, it would have undoubtedly never been as bad as it has been. He gripped the edge of the sink, trying to breathe. He needs to stop. Calm down. Quit thinking about it. It’s fine. Tim’s safe right now. He’s got injuries that he needs help with. Jason can handle this. He should be able to handle it. 

The kid waited to snap at him— to pull that out—to fling that at him, until after he’d put the fucking cup down— he waited. And sure, perhaps it was so Jason wouldn’t toss it over him for bringing up such a sore subject but it didn’t matter. The kid was lashing out and he’s determined to figure out what the fuck happened to cause the kid to seek him out despite the fact that he obviously doesn’t trust Jason. He swears if Bruce had anything to do with it he’s going to gut the man at bare minimum. 

Forcing himself to exhale, he turns on the water. He runs his hands under them, relishing in being able to focus on the slight discomforting sting from the concentration of heat on them. He gave himself about a minute or two reprieve; going through some of the breathing exercises Bruce had worked through him with after he’d taken him in. Some of the ones he learned as Robin to help ground victims as their trauma surrounds them— to help them calm down. He waits until he feels calmer. And then back to the living room where he can see Tim better. 

The runt flinched, eyes wide, not leaving Jason’s frame, shoulders squared though the trembling didn’t help keep him prepared for a possible incoming attack. Fuck, he can’t tell if he’s scaring the kid or if whatever happened to the runt was just that bad. He takes a seat in the arm chair, picking his tea up and taking a careful sip. He moved slowly, trying to get Tim to see he wasn’t going to attack him. 

“Damn Timbo, who’d have thought you’ve been saving that one.” He said as he put his tea down again, noticing that Tim does seem to relax a little now that it’s back on the table. He leans back, trying to not let it bother him as he starts talking. “You’re right. And this isn’t an excuse, but I’m all kinds of fucked up. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it.” He hesitated, fighting the angry disgust at himself before shaking his head. This isn’t about him right now. He can call Roy up later or something. Fuck, he just needs to focus on helping the kid. “I’m sorry, Tim. And you don’t need to believe it, or accept it, but I am. You said you came here because it was safe? What I take it is that you meant you felt it was safer here than wherever you got that fat lip from?” Hesitantly, Tim nodded. “Despite me attacking you previously, you still thought I was safer.” It wasn’t a question. 

Tim swallowed, not looking at him again. “You are. I… I’m not Robin anymore.” Tim mumbled it out. And Jason’s thoughts are whirling. He’s not Robin? Since when? Does Dickhead know? “I… I thought… I thought since I wasn’t Robin you… wouldn’t be mad that I was here…”

Jason exhaled softly. “I’m not mad that you’re here. Robin or no Robin. I still don’t understand that big brain of yours— I’ve literally almost killed you, several times I might add, and somehow you’ve convinced yourself that I was a better option than Dickie.”

“You were closer…” Tim grumbled, his cheeks and ears turning pink as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “and he mentioned he was working a big case last I saw him. I didn’t… want to bother him.”

“Have you met him? That asshole would come at the drop of a hat if you asked him to. He wouldn’t think you’re bothering him.”

“But I’m not Robin now…” the kid took a small sip of his water. An actual sip. Whatever reason he was resistant to drinking it seemed to be gone. Hopefully it was helping that sore throat. “Dick shouldn’t care anymore. I’m not—“

“Robin. So you’ve said.” Jason interrupted with an amused huff. “Look ki-Tim, I get it, but Dickhead cares about you. He doesn’t declare just anyone his brother. I doubt he’d think you coming to him because you’re hurt is being a bother.” The kid just gave a shrug. He obviously doesn’t believe it. “Okay…” he quirked an eyebrow at him. “Let’s just move on from that for now. You got fucked up from something. I won’t make you talk about it— but I want to help. Will you let me help?”

The kid still looked hesitant. He swallowed. “But why? You… you hate me don’t you?” And the confusion in that face, the reluctant hope in those eyes— it tears at Jason’s heart. How could he have ever beaten this kid down in an attempt to get back at Bruce? Pit or not— he should’ve never allowed himself to consider Tim separate from Robin— never should’ve gone after a kid like that. 

Jason inhaled sharply, before letting it out slowly. “No, Tim. I don’t. I did a lot of fucked up things. I’ve hurt you. And as awful as it sounds…” he grabbed his tea, taking a small sip of it as he settled back into his seat. He really was trying to keep the kid from freaking out on him. If he I’m settled in a chair, drinking his tea helped accomplish it, then so be it. It was better to try to keep the kid calm to help keep himself from flipping out on the kid again. “It wasn’t because of you. It wasn’t even about you. I should’ve never done any of that. As I’ve said before; You really… didn’t deserve it…” he exhaled softly before looking back up at Tim. “Let me help you. You’re hurt, and obviously you’re against me calling anyone else to help, and I’m not letting you dress your own wounds. So uh deal?”

“O-okay…” Tim gave a small hum, fingers tight on the blanket again, staring at the floor between them. He still looked apprehensive and Jason couldn’t find it in himself to blame him. He’s not sure why the kid would want to trust him. He’s never done anything to gain it. “I… I really don’t think I’m bleeding anywhere…”

“Okay,” Jason lets out a small breath. “Let’s try it this way. Where’d you get hit? Anything twinging when you move? Does it hurt to breathe?”

To avoid answering, or maybe to mull over what he can tell Jason, Tim takes another drink of his water. It’s about a quarter gone now but fuck if Jason isn’t glad to see the kid is keeping it down. “I… I don’t think any of my ribs are broken. A couple are definitely… bruised. Doesn’t really hurt much unless I touch them. Or move wrong.” He hesitates again. “Also might’ve maybe sprained my wrist? I… it hurts but not majorly?” He recants his earlier dismissal of not having anything more than bruises.

“Anything else?”

“Pretty sure what’s left is all just bruising…” the kid replied, wincing as he shifted, pulling the blanket around him tighter— as if it could protect him from whatever he’d afraid of. He hesitates, pressing his lips together firmly— and man, does Jason know that has gotta hurt—  before looking up at Jason, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Could… Could I get a shower? I can… I can probably get a better look at everything and I’ll let you know if I was wrong, and I can—“ the kid cuts himself off, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays his head on the back of the couch. “Please?” His voice cracked on the word, his breath hitching.

Jason’s heart hurts at how small and broken that plea was. “Oh baby bird, I don’t mind you getting a shower. I’m sure I’ve got something clean you can put on too, if ya want.” He pauses. “But circling back to injuries. You gotta let me look at that wrist— if it’s sprained it’ll probably need to be wrapped. I’ve got something I can give ya for that lip— it looks painful. And before you can shower,” Tim’s breath hitched again, as if afraid of whatever Jason will demand in exchange for it. “I still need to check for that concussion, okay? I don’t wanna not do it, only for you to pass out or slip in the shower and make it worse. Agreed?”

“Wrist after the shower?” Tim asked with hopefulness echoing in his tone. 

“Yeah, sure. Just be careful usin it. If it hurts- quit whatever the fuck you were doing with it. If ain’t sprained, using it without bein careful, can very damn well make it that way.” 

Tim swallowed before giving a small nod. “Okay… you can do the concussion check… just don’t… I don’t wanna be touched.”

“That’s… fine? Yeah. Pretty sure I can do that.” Jason replied, an alarm blaring in his brain. He tried to dismiss it. Focus on the possible concussion. He can connect things later— when the kid doesn’t look seconds from a break down.

Tim pointedly didn’t look at Jason, despite knowing the other’s eyes were probably narrowing at the request. Jason isn’t stupid. Especially when it feels so glaringly obvious to Tim that he’s making what happened obvious too. He tries to assure himself it doesn’t matter. Jason's already said he doesn’t have to talk about it. Tim lets out a small shaking breath before Jason starts talking again. 

“You good if I do it now?” Tim blinks at the question. He’d assumed Jason would just squat down in front of him and start the examination. He hesitates before nodding. 

“Okay, then. Gimme a sec to finish this.” Jason tells him before downing his tea. He gently placed the cup back down on the table. And then he’s pushing himself up and Tim watches his every move as he makes his way in front of him. As if he’s wary of Jason actually doing what he said he’s gonna do. 

Jason overly exaggerates his walk around the table and his squat as he picks the flashlight up again. He clicked it on before raising his eyebrow at Tim. “Look, you’re going to need to keep those baby blues open for me if you don’t want me touching you. Okay?” Another nod. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” Tim agreed. He winced as the light hit his eyes before opening his eyes wider as the light hit his eyes again. He’s done this with Alfred before. And the school nurse, that one time he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and walked straight into the flagpole.

Jason did it a few times before frowning. Tim’s pupils weren’t normal. The reaction time with them wasn’t bad— but definitely not normal. He couldn’t be certain it wasn’t a concussion. “Timmy, thought you said you didn’t hit your head. How sure are you on that?”

Tim swallowed. “Pretty sure. Aside from the couple fists I got to the face, I wasn’t. And that was… if I had a concussion I’d know.” 

“Uh huh.” Jason doesn’t believe him. Not one bit. “Yah see, I’d be more inclined to believe that if your pupils were reactin right. Which they aren’t.” 

Tim flinched, looking away from Jason, the blanket clutched tightly again. “I… probably didn’t get it all out of my system…”

“Explain.” Jason inhaled sharply. Please, don’t let his paranoia be right. Let him be wrong. Did the kid get fucked up trying to get drugs or something? He can feel the pit rear up— ready to be released. He clicked the flashlight off. 

“I…” Tim looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Jason— please? Can we just—- can this wait? I’d really like to shower.”

“And I’d really like to know what the fuck you’re apparently on.” Jason snaps, putting the flashlight down, possibly a little more rough than he needed to. It made Tim flinch again. “So no. Tell me just this. This is the only thing I’m making you tell me because, holy fuck, if you’re on drugs be glad you didn’t take the pain meds I offered. What the hell did you fucking take?”

“I-I don’t—“ he’s trembling again, unable to blink back the tears as they crawled down his face. “I’m not certain? It… it didn’t work like they thought it would? At least I don’t think that it did? I’m-I don- Jason I don’t want to talk about this—please-I don’t-I don’t—“ he’s fighting off the panic, the tears streaming more steadily as he struggles to think of something to convince Jason to just drop it. He sniffled, breath hitching when Jason moved his arms.

“Hey, hey,” Jason soothed softly, the only movement he made was to hold his hands up where Tim could see them. “It’s okay. Breathe with me. It’s okay.” He was furious at himself. He’d already committed to helping Tim. The kid needed someone who could try to at least keep a level head— and he’s trying to not toss the kid into a panic attack just because he can’t keep control of the pit. He verbally walks Tim through a breathing exercise, keeping any movements minimal. 

Just thinking about how he’s not helping the situation well enough and the fact that whatever happened to Tim, is enough that talking about it practically shoots him into breaking down makes the pit flare. Despite clamping down on not focusing on the pit but instead focusing on Tim and helping him, Jason knows that the second he allows a single slip, he’s opening up the possibility of lashing out at the smaller of them. 

And despite how green his eyes were, Tim thought this was probably the nicest Jason’s been to him in a long time. He feels drained as he breathes in sync with his bro— with Jason. When he could finally breathe easier again, Tim started to apologise, only for Jason to shake his head as he cut him off. 

“It's okay, baby bird. I’m sorry— told ya, I’m all kinds of fucked up right now. Didn’t mean to get like that. The thought that someone was possibly selling to a kid—“ Tim made a noise of protest. “hush, I know— but the thought that someone was selling to a kid, and said kid seems to be all fucked up with something in his system— it was enough to set me off a bit. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He hesitated, watching Tim for a moment, his face Scrunching. “You sure you don’t know what you’ve got in ya?”

Tim hesitated, sniffling as he shook his head. “I could guess— but I don’t actually know—I don’t want to risk being wrong and-and—I want to shower. I don’t wanna be talking about this anymore. I really thought I threw enough of it up on my way here…”

“Okay, okay. We don’t need to talk about it.” Jason assured him softly. “We’ll need to make sure you drink more water. And I’ll need to keep an eye on ya just to make sure you don’t, like choke or something when you sleep— because we don’t know what’s in ya; but if you feel steady enough for a shower, I’m sure that’ll be fine. You were pretty unsteady when you got here.” He hesitates. “I can carry you to the bathroom if you want? Or help you to it. Whichever is easier for you.” 

Tim freezes, eyes darting between Jason and the floor between them, and the wall behind the previously dead boy, before shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I can do it myself…”

“I’m sure you can, Timbo, but I’d rather not risk it. You can always sit in the shower if you feel unsteady but I’m not gonna let you crawl to it just because you feel bad letting someone help.” He gives a small hum. “How about you grab my arm and I’ll guide you?” He offered. “That way you set the pace, and whatever.”

Tim hesitated, his grip on the blanket tight again. “I… okay… but I made it all the way here without help… I'm sure making it to the bathroom wouldn’t be that hard.”

“You’re probably right.” Jason gave a soft snort. “But you said you’d let me help. Even if it’s more for my peace of mind, I don’t wanna risk you tripping and ending up with the concussion I thought you had.” 

Tim gave a small amused huff, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. “Okay okay, no need to be an ass about it.” 

“Don’t you know? I’m usually an ass.” Jason gave a soft puff of laughter at that. That was something he’d liked about this Tim. He’s got good humor. Tim’s eyes lit up at the laugh Jason gave, seemingly enjoying the small trickle of pride glowing on his chest at being the one that caused it. It made everything about this better.

Tim deserved to laugh— like any child. He shouldn’t be at the home of someone who’d almost murdered him on more than one occasion because he’d been shaken beyond belief with whatever he’d experienced earlier this evening. Jason would figure out what happened later— figure out who he’d need to get back at— but for now? He’d help Tim. 

Chapter Text

Tim moved slowly, deliberately, and Jason isn't sure if it’s because of his ribs or something else. By the time Tim adjusted the blanket enough to use an arm, Jason had already stood to offer his arm for him as a brace. Once Tim pulled himself up, hand wrapped around Jason’s forearm— giving a quiet grunt of discomfort— and was completely upright, the ice packs hit the floor with soft thuds. The fifteen year old winced, adjusting the blanket around himself as tightly as possible single handedly. “Sorry…”

“They’re ice packs Timbo, I'm sure they don’t care about being dropped.” Jason teased, hoping to keep the mood lighter. That Tim wouldn’t think he was mad over something like that. No, he could still feel the tremble Tim has and he’s not entirely sure that it’s whatever drug’s in his system. He’s sure Tim’s still scared of him. 

Tim gave a considering hum after a minute or two before giving a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.”

The two made their way to the bathroom at Tim’s pace. He was right about not being too unsteady to make it to the bathroom, but with the limp and the exhaustion tugging at him, he’s glad Jason insisted on helping. Jason helped him over to the toilet, letting him lower the toilet lid before helping him to be sitting on it. Tim stifled a noise of discomfort tucking his arm back into the blanket as Jason pulled away from him. 

“Don't hop in yet. I’ll grab you some clothes that should mostly fit and a towel. Any requests?”

Tim chewed his tongue before shrugging, feigning nonchalance even though the anxiety of fucking this up clawed at his lungs. He shouldn’t be unreasonable. He could just tell him he’d take anything but wouldn’t that make him more suspicious? “A clean hoodie maybe? I—“ he glanced down at the one mostly hidden by the blanket. “A soft one if you’ve got it? This one’s a little too… tight right now?” 

It made him all too aware of the fabric touching him, the irritable itch lingering with each shift of the fabric. He hoped it wasn’t too much to ask. He didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to risk Jason getting upset. He wasn’t sure he could take Jason going back to the death threats right now. Not after he’s been so nice. He wants Jason to be nice to him— even if it’s selfish. Just for a little while longer. Then he can leave. Disappear. Like his parents always wanted him to . 

Jason’s face softened. “Okay, Birdie. I’ll check. Be right back.” And with that he dipped out of the bathroom, leaving Tim in it alone. 

The boy exhaled softly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. His heart thrummed in his ears, and he moved his gaze to the floor, counting how many squares in the tile design there are. Any time his thoughts tried drifting he frowned deeper and restarted. He can’t check out yet. In the shower he can cry and maybe get the itch out of his skin. Maybe he’ll be able to compose himself more. Perhaps he can keep himself from falling apart completely on Jason. Unfortunately, he knows how many squares are there now, and even with the repetitive counting, his thoughts start to drift. 

To Jason who is actually trying to help him. Who’s still being nice? Especially to him? Tim’s unsure if it’ll continue. Whenever people are nice, it never lasts long and considering who he’s talking about? Perhaps he should be expecting that shoe to drop sooner rather than later. He doesn’t need to tell Jason what happened but maybe Tim could convince him to just let him get a few hours of sleep? Just a few hours, long enough to wash his clothes and enjoy being safe enough for him to actually get some sleep. He hoped he’d be able to sleep. He hoped Jason wouldn’t see him sleeping on the couch and decide that killing him would be a good idea. That the other was actually sincere in not wanting to hurt him anymore. 

He didn’t register Jason was back until fingers snapped in front of his eyes and he jerked back, his eyes wide with panic as his heart leaped into his throat, a stuttered noise escaping him as he tried to understand who those appendages belong to. He met Jason’s still glowing teal— burning greener and greener— eyes, as the other pulled away from him, concern on his face, his brows pinched together. 

Fuck can you be anymore melodramatic? A voice that sounds suspiciously like his mother’s scolds. He’s a Drake. He shouldn’t behave like this. Drake’s don’t— nope. Halting that train right here. He should pay attention to Jason. He wills his brain to focus on registering the words Jason’s speaking. 

“Hey,” Jason started, rubbing the back of his neck as Tim’s heart decided to finally start settling again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you. Seems like you kinda zoned out there… you sure you’ll be okay to shower? I meant it when I said I didn't wanna have you slip and fall.”

Tim swallowed before shaking his head. “Was zoned. Was… thinking.” He hesitates again, registering the folded clothes under Jason’s other arm and the towel. Right. Shower. Jason was grabbing clothes so he could shower. “I’ll be okay to shower. I… really, I’ll be fine after a shower.”

Jason didn’t look convinced, but he put the clothes on the counter for Tim before fixing him with a pointed stare. “Fine, Just yell if you need something. Sit down if you start feeling dizzy. Seriously, the last thing I need is for you to crack your head open and recreate that one Psycho scene.”

Tim’s brows furrowed. “I’ve seriously no idea what scene you’re talking about. Pretty sure that’s not actually how that one goes.” He gave him a small snort, soft quiet, it made his already aching throat feel like he was dragging a rake through rocks, “but I promise I won’t paint your bathroom like a murder took place. Scout’s honor.”

Jason gave an amused huff of air but relaxed his stance. Tim was honestly glad humor seemed to be one of his first defense mechanisms. He wouldn’t have been much of a Robin without it. It helped. Whether it was defusing things or aggravating someone to the point they lost rational thinking.“I can agree to that.” He grabbed the handle of the door to leave but paused before he was half-way done closing it, meeting Tim’s gaze again. “Take your time. Catalogue any injuries that need to be fixed up. Remember to take it easy on that wrist.”

Tim’s throat burned as he swallowed again but he nodded, looking away. He just wants to shower so he can sleep. He’s tired . So very tired . “I will. I’ll c’me’out when ’m done.”

“Good you do that.” Jason gave another half snort of amusement, as he finally shut the door for Tim. 

Tim exhaled a shaking breath as his grip on the blanket relaxed. He nearly stopped breathing as he strained his ears to hear Jason moving away from the door— probably back to his tea if Tim had to wager a bet.

Once he was sure Jason wasn’t going to come back, he leaned over carefully to turn on the exhaust fan— just more noise to help his brain have something to focus on as he flipped the switch, the rattled static mixing with the numbed awareness he found himself falling back into. He wouldn’t lock the door— why lock it when it wouldn’t do anything. All of the robins knew how to and there’s no windows here big enough for him to squeeze himself out of anyway. Seriously, it’d give him maybe an extra twenty seconds or so, and without an extra escape route— there really wasn’t much locking that door would accomplish for him to do. It’d make him feel more secure, knowing he’d at least have warning. 

He locked it anyway, ignoring the rationality that Jason wouldn’t be likely to enter without knocking first. That Jason wouldn’t do whatever the irrationality was insisting was a possibility. Jason is Red Hood. Hood kills people who hurt kids. Kills people who assault others. And if he really meant it when he said Tim is a kid and he never should’ve harmed him? Then obviously he’d be safe from anything happening again. 

He’s safe. He’ll be okay. Even if Jason’s lying; he’s safe right now. See? The door is locked and Jason will have to make noise to even get in. He’s safe. 

He forces himself to put the blanket down, untangling it away from him and carefully folding it to put it on the counter, already missing its comfort and weight as he stands. He shudders as the warmth around him cools. He refused to look in the mirror, trying to focus on the task at hand. Shower. He’s going to shower— probably cry, get all of this out of his system and then he’ll be okay. He’ll be able to think. Do what he needs to do. Initiate the contingencies he’d thought he’d never have to use. 

He turns on the water to warm it up before quickly stripping out of his clothes. He tries not to grimace as his fingers brush over bits of his skin— the sensations feeling like he’s covered in ants. He tosses his clothes into a small lump on the floor, trying desperately to keep his mind from drifting back to the scramble of trying to get those on. He doesn’t want to think about it— not the way his father looked at him before— no! Don’t think about it!

He can feel the caresses ghosting over his skin. He can feel the grip over the bruise on his hips. He can feel the crushing feeling of his larynx being held so tight that his lungs burned when he was finally allowed air again he can remember the feeling of that disgusting hot breath on the shell of his ear. The way he swung his elbow back— STOP!

He grits his teeth, barely biting back a whimper before getting in the tub, pulling the tab to start the shower and pulling the curtain closed. He’s standing there trying to remember to breathe. To remember that he’s not there anymore. The water isn’t hot enough. It makes his skin feel worse. He lunges forward and adjusts the water to be as hot as he possibly can get it before sinking to sit, his arms wrapped around his knees. It flattens his hair and turns his skin red but he doesn’t do anything to lessen the feeling of the sting that’s dulling as he adjusts to it. 

But Fuck— at least it feels like he can breathe again— the water chasing every crawling feeling off of him. His lungs burn but each inhale feels like solid ground after being on a boat for so long that your legs are jelly. Warm tears blend with the downpour of steaming water and a quiet sob wrenches itself out of his chest. And another. And another. He can’t seem to get himself to stop so he just heaves them out. And then he’s near silently wailing as he holds himself tighter- as if it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. As if letting go and making noise means he’ll be lucky to continue existing. As if he lets go he’s not sure he’ll even have pieces of himself left to pick up and put back together. 

And then he just feels distant from it all. From the heaving cries wracking his body. From the phantom hands. From the painful movements each wet hiccup makes that aggravates his ribs and his hips. He feels distant from his body, his brain trying to rationalize that this was a good thing. The release of chemicals from crying will help. That he’ll be able to think better. He’ll be able to plan. 

But for now; he’s allowed to break down. He knows that he’ll probably feel better afterwards if he gets it out of his system now. Logically, after the day he’s had— the last few days really— it’d be expected of anyone. To feel like the world is ending and at the same time registering that if he keeps this up he’ll either make so much noise that Jason will come check on him or he’ll end up getting sick. Though distantly he can admit getting sick in the shower is one of the better places to get sick in. The water would practically drown out the smell and get rid of the evidence. 

Which is still gross but better than earlier. He’d thrown up behind a dumpster not far from the desolate abandoned building he’d escaped from. If he focused on it, he could still smell the putrid smell mixing with the grime. 

After a while he rocks himself gently, the cold plastic of the tub sticking to him while he focuses on squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get through a breathing exercise. In. Out. In. Out. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m safe now. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’ll be okay.” He chants softly before he finally settles, closing his eyes as the rigid tenseness he’d been holding soothed under the warmth of the water, lulling him into peace.

  He’s safe. And that makes his chest feel as warm as the water surrounding him. His own exhaustion both from the emotional roller coaster he’s been on and physically finally catching up to him now that he was relaxing. He sank further into steaming water, tucked into the side of the tub as his consciousness fluttered away from him. Maybe he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. He’s sure he’ll wake up if the water goes cold. 

Chapter Text

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He takes that back, he knows how to feel, he’s just sure it isn’t the right answer. He’s angry. He's usually angry. He’s angry because it’s easier to be angry than to feel the complicated mess of bullshit stirring in his brain.

He’s angry and he knows he needs to keep it reigned in and what better way than to make bread? Focaccia to be exact. He can’t exactly just up and leave the runt here alone and go get into a fight. Not with Dickhead’s arrival looming. Sure, the Dick doesn’t exactly know where this safe house is, but if he didn’t make sure the kid was okay and figure a rough plan to take care of the problem— that asshole would get mega-involved and then Jason would have to deal with him being in his hair while they solve it together. He'd really rather not. 

So no running off. While the kid is showering he can make them some food. Maybe he’d be able to convince Tim that eating would help. The kid could stand to eat and get some more weight on those bones. Besides, he didn’t realize the kid was so light. It really made him consider how much the kids upgraded suit added to his size. He wonders if that’s the point. To hide the fact that Tim Drake is Robin. Or was Robin? He still hasn’t figured out what’s going on with that. 

Jason pulls out the ingredients necessary for Tomato soup and an easy and quick Focaccia bread. He’d kept this place well stocked in his enjoyable necessities because it’d been his favourite— dammit. He really was going to have to burn this one isn’t he? The kid had been able to find it after all. He paused in his movements. The kid found this place. Knew exactly where it was. Had come here hoping that he’d been right and that Jason would be here when he got here. 

Jason’s stomach turned as a realization hit him. What if the kid had been wrong? What if Jason hadn’t been here? Or worse— what if this hadn’t been one of Jason’s safe houses and someone else were here? What if it’d been someone willing to take advantage of a kid in no condition to fight and clearly not able to do anything if someone tried anything? The pit flared and he gritted his teeth as he started mixing things in the bowls. 

He needed to focus on the food. The kid is fine. Well, admittedly not fine but he’s safe. Nothing is going to happen to Tim while he’s here in his apartment. Not while Jason’s here. He’s safe. He can relax. Tim didn’t run into anyone else. The pit seems to settle again between that thought and the ease that cooking helps bring him. 

Alfred was right when he said it’d help. Not only did it make him feel more secure with his food but it helped give him a release for the anger. Not as good as punching goons in the face with the butt of his guns or killing the disgusting scum that couldn’t stick to his rules, but still it didn’t mean anything less to him. Nothing could replace those fond memories of the hours he spent learning under Alfred’s tulelege. Best fucking teacher he’s ever had and one of the only few still living. 

Overall the cooking helped take his mind off things a little. By the time he had the soup set up to slowly broil and the bread was in the oven, he grabbed dishes for Tim and him to eat out of. He glanced at the clock before frowning. It’s been nearly an hour and a half and Jason can still hear the shower going. 

He set the heat on the soup down so it’d slowly simmer on a low setting before turning to head to the bathroom. He knocked as he reached the door. “Hey, Timbalina, you tryin to prep for a beauty contest in there?” He called, forcing a teasing laugh out. He waited for a reply, shifting awkwardly to press his ear to the door. “Tim? Timmy? You alright in there?”

Silence. Or well silence aside from the muffled sounds of the shower still running and water hitting something other than the tub. Was he okay? Jason steeled himself before knocking again, louder than before. He doesn’t like this. Maybe letting the kid be unsupervised with unknown drugs in his system was a bad idea. What if he passed out again? Slipped and fell? No, Jason’s sure he’d have heard that. 

“Hey Timbo, if you don’t gimme a reply, I’m gonna come in. You good with that?” He moved his hand to the handle, waiting thirty seconds before jiggling it. Fuck, why the kid have to lock it? Before immediately admonishing the thought. Jason personally always felt safer locking doors in new unfamiliar environments with people he’d been relatively unsure about when he was younger. Hell, depending on the day and who nowadays, he can get paranoid if the door isn’t locked. Why wouldn’t the kid be similar? He’s proven he can be just as if not more paranoid as Bruce. Still, it’d have made checking on him easier. “I’m taking your silence as a sign you’re not okay Tim. If you can answer me, you should make a noise. Knock on the wall if words aren’t wording for you.” 

He waited ten seconds before moving his hand to the top of the doorway, snagging the key he kept up there to unlock the door. He gave a final knock, hand hovering over the handle. “I’m coming in, Timbo. This is your last chance to do something if you don’t want me in.” He waited another ten seconds before cursing and pushing the door open. Nothing looked broken. Taking a few steps into the small room, he shuddered at the lack of warmth in the room. Was the kid taking a cold shower? Why in the hell would he want a cold shower?

“Kid, you okay in there? You do realise a cold shower isn't gonna help those ribs right?” Jason asked, snatching the towel off the counter and making his way over to the tub. “Kid? Can you answer me? You’re really starting to freak me out.” Sharp hot dread filled his stomach as he started to pull the curtain. Slowly enough that if the kid tried to stop the curtain Jason wouldn’t be moving it too fast. “Tim? I’m gonna open the curtain. I’ve got the towel and you can cover yourself but you’re not answering so I’m gonna have to make sure you’re okay.” He only pulled the curtain back far enough to turn off the water, wincing as a couple flecks of icey coolness hit his skin. Tim still hadn’t answered and Jason inhaled sharply, his breath shaking. “Okay Timmy, I’m opening the curtain all the way now. Cool?” 

He wasn’t expecting an answer from the smaller boy at this point. He just wanted to make sure that if Tim were at least awake and even remotely aware, he knew what was happening. He waited another moment before shoving the curtain open, freezing at the sight that awaited him, even as more water hit his skin and clothes. Sure, there’s not much about the kid sitting huddled in a shivering mess from where the cool water on his skin must've felt freezing from the rush of air Jason caused— no. No that was expected. 

Horror, disgust and renewed anger filled him as he really took in the sight, cataloging every mark. Every bruise. He’d been considering the kid would have some nasty fucking bruises if the kid was right about the fucked ribs. So many of the bruises were weeks old. And sure, even that could have been expected for some of them, considering their night lives. 

However, Jason hadn’t been expecting the hand prints painting over the other’s flesh as if it were a muddled canvas, intermingling with the other hues of yellows, browns and purples. The scars he’d thought some spoiled rich kid like Tim would never have. Spoiled. That’s not Tim. Tim isn’t spoiled. If the fact that Tim was a kid hadn’t broken through to him maybe doing more of his own research on the runt would’ve uncovered this—Would’ve uncovered exactly how a kid who should’ve been well taken care of had the same kind of scars a kid with an abusive alcoholic from crime alley used to have. The scars Jason had from Wilis’ belt before his dip in the pit. 

There's a giant hand print covering his neck, or at least what Jason could see from how much of his neck the kid had his face tucked between his arms and legs. The print looked like it wrapped almost completely around the entire thing, leaving only a small gap where the fingers couldn’t fully close around it at the back. He had hand prints on his arms, as if someone dragged him around grabbing his limbs too hard. Those big hand shaped bruises at his hips, the fingers of the bruises splayed out. 

Jason felt sick all over again at the implications of how the kid got any of it. A small flicker of hope told him this kinda damage isn’t something Bruce would have caused. But that still didn’t answer if all of this were caused by the same guy. The scars, some of them looking years old and the newer ones only briefly healed enough to be shallow pink lines. He pushed it away when the kid shuddered violently under the spray hitting him. Cursing, he hurriedly shut off the water. 

Jason swallowed as he squatted down next to the tub, gently wrapping the towel around tim. He pushed the kid’s hair out of his eyes, not hardly as relieved at seeing them shut. The kid didn’t even stir. He wished it was because the kid felt safe enough to sleep— but he knew whatever drug the kid had in his system was probably hitting him. He couldn’t just leave Tim here, wet and cold. He could hurry up, dress him without looking more than necessary, and then wrap him up in blankets and deposit him on the couch. Yeah, that’s a solid plan. That’s exactly what Jason is going to do. 

“I’m sorry Timmy. I know this’ll probably make you feel uncomfortable when you’re awake again but I can’t just leave you here to catch a cold. You can punch me later or something.” He grumbled, mostly to himself as he carefully hefted the unconscious teen up to get some clothes on him and to dry him off.

As soon as Jason had Tim dry and dressed, he carefully set him up to rest on the couch. Tucked a fresh blanket around him and shoved a pillow under that head of his. Tim deserved to actually lay on the queen in the bedroom but Jason was sure the runt would probably appreciate waking up on a couch than waking up in someone else’s bed— a bed he’d probably know he didn’t fall asleep in, if he didn’t wake up in a haze. Besides, it’d be easier to ascertain whenever the kid woke up. Easier to make sure he was okay . 

Jason moved the couch carefully around so he could see the kid better from the kitchen before making his way back out there and forcing himself to drink a bottle of water. An attempt to make the anxious thoughts of not doing enough stop. He eyed Tim’s still form, watching his  chest move as the kid breathed, relieved that despite everything— Tim’s still alive . 

He’s not sure what else to do. What else can he do? The bread was still baking and the soup was practically done, just simmering. He didn’t really feel like eating now, not after seeing that. Nor did he want to wake the kid up to try to get him to eat. No, what he wanted to do was punch someone. Get in a fist fight until his face hurts as bad as his knuckles would sting. But he can’t take off and leave the kid here alone . He really didn’t want to either. There’s really not much he can do, aside from watch the kid sleep, bake his bread, and wait on Dickhead. 

Dick. Right, he’s supposedly on his way. Jason snatches his phone off the counter and dials his brother’s number. “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up.” He chanted under his breath as he waited. 

“ Hey there, what’s up?” Came Dick’s voice as he connected to the call. 

“ How far out are you, Wing?” Jason asked, his voice wavering, despite the relief at his brother answering the phone. A small passing thought wondered if this would have been how it felt if Dick had been able to answer his phone before Ethiopia.  

“Jay-bird? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” 

Jason swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his grip tightened on the device in his hand. “I’m-I’m not the one hurt. But I’m… I’m not okay. I’m—“ he let out a small breath, eyes on the sleeping boy on his sofa. God, he looked so small. His stomach churns at the thoughts he’d beaten that kid every time he saw him because of whatever fucked reason he convinced himself. He knows he makes fun of the whole damn family for their guilt complexes but his guilt is at least valid. Sure, he’d been hyped up on the pit and shit but that didn’t make any of it better. He’s the one that has actually harmed Tim beyond reason. “Dickie, please just tell me how far out you are?”

“I can floor it and be in Gotham in about twenty. Tell me what’s going on Jay. You’re kinda freaking me out and it’s not helping my anxiety here.”

“Do it. Get here as soon as you can, I’ll send you the address.” Jason exhaled sharply, eyes stinging and he looked away from the sleeping figure on the couch to start explaining what happened. “Baby bird showed up on my doorstep. Looked absolutely horrible. Thought he was sick and got mugged or something.” He laughed, the kind of laugh that was used when you didn’t really find something funny and you were trying to fight off tears. He’s not crying— he’s not. You can’t prove anything. “M-Maybe that he went out on patrol and got his ass handed to him and was here to avoid a lecture. At worst he was here to lay some sort of trap or some shit. Something because of me, ya know?” Jason knows he’s rambling but he can’t help it. He’d rather get out in a slew of words than to not get it out at all. 

Dick gave him a wordless hum of acknowledgement and Jason could hear the transmission shifting gears and whining from Dick’s end . He swallowed before continuing. “ He nearly passed out when he got here. I managed to catch him. Get him kinda iced up and get some water in him, and I thought he had a concussion or something— and fuck Dick—“ he trailed off rubbing his face. He should have seen the signs sooner. They were all there. The massive distrust. The fear. The flinching anytime Jason’s hands went near him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking tears of frustration away. “ He admitted that he had some sorta drug in him. That he tried throwing it up but apparently he didn’t throw enough of it up cause his pupils still weren’t acting right. And he wasn’t completely sure what it was but he started getting upset and begging to not talk about it anymore to- to- to just get a shower. And I just— I kept getting set off and scaring the shit out of him instead of fucking helping him.”

“He was drugged ?” Dick growled out. 

“According to what little I could get out of him— yeah.” Jason nodded despite his brother not being able to see him. He hesitated, chewing his lip before exhaling. “He’s- he’s covered in handprints, Dick.” Dick’s sharp inhale echoed on the line. He heard the tires shriek before Dick managed to say anything. 

“Jason, no.” Dick’s voice sounded so guilty. Wet. Heartbroken. Jason couldn’t blame it. He felt guilty too. Especially not after he’d pulled a gun on the runt as soon as he saw him. 

He cleared his throat. Moving to check his bread as he snapped a reply. “A lot of the evidence points that way. I may not be B or the kid when it comes to investigating but I ain’t stupid.” The bread isn’t quite done, but close enough, he figures as the warmth from the oven hits his skin. Maybe another couple minutes. He shut the door to the oven again. He leaned against the counter, staring at the ceiling as he tried to calm himself. He shouldn’t be loud. The kid needs to rest. Needs to be allowed to sleep off whatever they gave him. 

“I didn’t— Jay that isn’t—“ he heard his brother hit something— most likely the steering wheel— with a dull thump. “I wasn’t saying that. I just— fuck!” He snapped, sniffling. Jason winced, he hadn’t meant to make his brother just as upset as he was. “ Text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Dick is quiet for a minute other than the sounds of controlled breathing coming over the line and sniffles. “ Think I should stop by the Manor and grab comfort items? Extra blankets and stuff?”

“ I dunno Dickie,” Jason started as the fact that Tim had begged— begged— him not to call anyone and now Dickwing’ll show up— and had been planning to show up early since Jason had texted him— hit him. Fuck, Tim is gonna probably react so bad to Dick showing up. “He might feel better if you grab stuff for him— but— Fuck— I wasn’t even supposed to call you but you were already planning on coming to bother me and it’s going to stress him out and fuck— he didn’t want me to call anyone. Just— give a minute so I can text the address.” He pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to text dick the address. “ But seriously, he kinda freaked about me mentioning it earlier— both you and Alfred. Didn’t want me to call anyone —“

“Look, how about we handle him not wanting me there after he wakes up. If he wants me to leave, I’ll go. okay lil wing?” 

“I just— I already had to dress him because he fell asleep in the shower and considering what’s happened— I pulled a gun on him when he got here Dick— I’ve fucked this up so much and he might not want to even stay. Any trust I might’ve had with him is—“

“Jason, stop. Stop. Breathe Jaybird,” Jason's lungs seemed to comply on their own as he inhaled sharply, willing himself to calm down as the next breath he took was steadier. “ that’s it breathe. It’s okay. He went to you. Sure, maybe he misplaced that trust given everything before this, but he trusted you enough to go to you after whatever he went through. We’ll handle however he reacts when he’s awake okay? Whatever he decides, aside from being alone right now, we’ll do it. Even if he wants us to call someone to come get him. Whatever he wants. Agreed?”

Jason swallows. “Okay… okay. Sure. We’ll do that. I-I made food. So, you better get your ass here as fast as you can. Otherwise I won’t be sharing.” Jason taunted, his nerves still thrumming under his skin. He checked his bread again, even more relieved it seemed to be done before pulling it out. Despite no longer being hungry, the smell of the bread wafting around him still made his mouth water. He set it on the counter and shut off the oven before glancing back towards the kid. 

He nearly froze, not hearing a single word Dick said in response to him when he realized Tim was looking at him. Watching him. He’s not even sure how long the kid was awake for. He swallowed. “Gimme a sec, Kid’s awake.” He lowered the phone away from his ear, resting it on his collar bone. “Hey there Timbo… how’re you feelin?” Fuck, that’s such a dumb question. Obviously he feels like shit.

“You dressed me?” Tim’s brows furrowed, his voice still sounding raw but just as guarded as he was before Jason apologized. He didn’t let his expression shift too much aside from the eyebrows. Fuck, even his eyes weren’t giving much away. It did nothing to help Jason’s nerves. 

“Yeah…” Jason winced, but not didn’t make any moves to get closer to Tim. He wasn’t sure if it’d be welcomed or make Tim freak out and staying still at the counter seemed to be a better choice. “I did. You were asleep and the water was freezing. I couldn’t just shut off the water and leave you in there. I’m sorry—“

“Is that Dick?” Tim calls out, cutting him off, hardly awake enough for this conversation. He’s tired, and his head feels hazy but he’s aware enough to be able to make a decision. His face still wasn’t expressive as he started slowly shifting on the couch, pulling the blanket closer around him. He gave a soft groan as he shifted, wincing with the movement and Jason winced in sympathy. 

“Uh, yeah-yep, he doesn’t have to come here if you don’t want him to—“

“Can you tell him to grab my laptops from the cave?” Tim yawns out, bundling the blanket as tight as he could around himself and curling closer to the couch. “I’ll need them when I wake up.”

“Uh, what?” Jason asks completely off guard.

“My laptops. Have Dick grab them from the cave. I’ll need them when I get up.” Tim repeated, nuzzling his face into the soft pillow Jason seemed to have put under his head when he moved him to the couch. 

“Tim, what do you mean you’ll need your computers? You got a plan or something?”

“Mmmhmm… Tired. Lemme sleep a little more?” Tim slurred sleepily, finally sinking into the cushions under him, practically asleep now that he’d stopped moving again. This felt far better than the Tub did. He kinda wished he felt boneless, but this is at least good enough for now. 

“Tim you can’t—“

“Ple’se Jay? Later…” Tim whined before a yawn bubbling out of him, his eyes cracking open as he blearily pleaded with him. 

Jason pressed his lips together before sighing softly. “Sure, fine. Get some more rest. You need it.” The kid was out like a light again before he had even finished talking. He raised the phone to his ear again. “Did ya hear that Dickie? He wants his computers. Can you grab those?”

“ Yeah— yeah I can do that. Is… is he asleep again? ”

“Like a log.” Jason exhaled softly. “Fuck, I don’t know how this kid can is even remotely functioning right now.”

“ Listen, that brain of his is constantly going. I’m sure he’s going to have a couple plans. We’ll just need to be there to talk him out of anything that’s… we just need to be there for him. We’ll talk him out of anything too unhinged. ” 

“Not if it’s putting whoever fucking touched him in the ground.” Jason gritted his teeth. The pit flared in agreement. 

“ Jas— “

“No. If he wants em dead— I’m killing them.”

“ Let’s just see what he wants. And unless he mentions it— don’t you dare tell him that.” Dick grits out. “We’ll have this conversation when and if he mentions it. Agreed?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever Goldie.” Jason huffs. “Where’s Bats at anyway?”

“With the league. Some big important meeting for a treaty or something. Pretty sure Alfred is out as well. An old friend of his is in town I think. Pretty sure Cass is still traveling? Maybe. I’m not sure. She checks in with B but I’m sure if she was in town we’d know.”

“And you all just left the kid to his own devices?” Dick’s quiet for a minute. Jason pulls his phone away from his ear long enough to make sure the call didn’t drop. “What?”

“He was supposed to be with his Dad, spending time with him. Cause of his mom? I think they were planning on taking a trip and just spending time together. Timmy mentioned that he wasn’t sure what his dad had planned but he’d be pretty busy with whatever it was to be able to patrol. He and I convinced B to let Steph do some appearances as Robin while he was busy so that people at least saw glimpses around the city.” 

“Shit— what’s up with his mom? She sick or something? And is that why I haven’t seen him in the last week or so? Thought you and B just decided to ensure we weren’t intersecting.” 

“ Jay, his mom died.” Dick’s voice feels like someone dumped ice water down Jason’s shirt. “ Like a month and a half ago. And no. He’s not been patrolling much. The kid was taking shorter patrols before his dad apparently sprung this bonding time on him. He’s been coming around the manor less according to Alfred, since she died.” He paused. “ He’s been having a rough time I think. And then tonight on top of it?” He made a strangled noise. 

“Yeah.” Jason agreed, exhaling quietly, glancing at the now sleeping boy again. Fuck, everything has been so unfair for him and he’s done nothing to deserve any of it. “We’re absolutely not leaving him alone. And if he’s supposed to be with his dad— the fuck is he at then? Why—“ Jason cut himself off, his grip tightening on the phone as the pit flared. “You don’t think his dad did this, do you?”

Dick’s breath hitched before a low growl carried over the line. “If he did, you’re not killing him.”  

“Now hold—“

“ No, no, I agree. If Jack did that, he deserves to die. But we need to think about Tim. He might not want him dead— even if we do.” 

“Dick—“ Jason didn’t understand. Dick would be willing to let him kill Tim’s dad if he had anything to do with this? Where was that kind of thought with the Joker? The pit flared at the thought but he shoved it down. Jason can deal with it later. 

 “ No. Stop. We can have this conversation later, Jaybird. I’m pulling into the cave now. I’ll be over there soon. Let me know if he wakes up before I get there? ”

“Yeah Dickhead. Grab whatever it is you’re grabbing and get your ass here.”

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Jason greeted, opening the door up for Dick. “You didn’t take as long as I thought you would.”

“I told you I’d hurry.” Dick rolled his eyes as he entered the apartment. He set the extra blankets he’d brought on the coffee table in the living room, before setting the bag with the supplies and laptops Tim requested on the floor next to it. A glance at the small sleeping form told him the boy was still out. Which he honestly wished Tim could be passed out for different reasons. That all of them were here for different reasons.

He could see the bruising on Tim’s face and just the tiniest bit around his jaw and throat, peeking out from the oversized —is that Jason’s?— hoodie that the kid was wearing. He resisted the urge to go over and pet his hair or pull him into a hug and not let go. Dammit— whoever touched his baby brother is going to pay. He’ll make sure of it. His nostrils flared, a passing thought that if it was indeed Jack’s doing, that man will wish he’d let Jason kill him before he’s done with him. Not only is he willing to  fist fight Bruce for custody after the ball gets rolling but he’ll do everything he can to wreck Jack’s life. He inhales softly, giving Tim another once over as he steadies his breathing to calm himself. Neither of them need him to lose his shit right now. They needed him to stay level-headed. 

Dick turned back to Jason, nodding towards the kitchen. Jason gave an expressive eye roll with an exasperated huff in response but quickly followed him. At least Jason’s flare for the dramatics never changed. Dick glanced back towards Tim, keeping his voice low, an attempt that if Tim’s actually sleeping, he doesn’t wake him up. “I called over to the Drake Estate and didn’t get an answer. Twice. I… I didn't want to waste much time getting here so I'm not actually sure what’s going on with that situation.” But it’s looking more and more like they’re going to be doing a manhunt.

“So still a chance it might not have been his dad?” Jason’s voice is resigned. Like he doesn’t quite believe that he’s asking when all the evidence thus far hasn’t really proved it to be true. And given their lives? And Tim’s rotten luck? Who could blame him?

Dick nodded. “Yeah. We can investigate him more after we figure out what Tim wants to do. And what he needs.” If they tried to handle this and just coddle Tim— he knows the kid won’t stay. Will disappear and be in the wind before they even realize the kid ditched them. Dick’s heart aches with the thoughts that Tim’s trust would be so fragile right now but considering his Father is their number one suspect? He can’t blame Tim for being guarded. If he were in Tim’s position, he’d want a choice. Or at least a say in how things would go. And Dick would be damned if Tim didn’t get it. 

“Yeah we can.” Jason agreed, shoulders slumping as he leaned against the counter. It was rare for him to show Dick how unsure he was. Especially nowadays. Dick shouldn’t feel happy at seeing his brother allowing him to see him vulnerable considering the only reason he’s seeing this is because his other baby brother is hurt and passed out. “Do you think his dad really did this to ‘im?”

“I don’t know Jay…” Dick sighed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. It didn’t matter what he thought. Not yet. Regardless of who did it, Tim is going to need time. Need a feeling of safety. He knows what it feels like to have your trust violated so thoroughly and have everyone blame you for it. He exhales again, shaking his head. “But I hope for Tim’s sake, he didn’t…”

“Yeah, me too.” Jason agreed with a nod, looking away towards the covered food as Dick looked back towards their brother on the couch. “I covered the food.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck. Another habit  he never seemed to grow out of. “Didn’t really feel like eating yet and the kid was passed out again, so I didn’t want to wake him to try to get him to eat when he obviously needs the sleep. You can dig into—“

“Hey Timmy,” Dick called softly when he realized Tim was awake, cutting Jason off, the former dead boy's head whipped around to stare at him as well. Tim just gave them a tired nod as he rubbed at his eyes. The shifting causes him to grimace, a pained gasp escaping him. He stiffened as Dick took a step towards him before the eldest of them froze, his mouth opening and shutting as if he wasn’t sure how to handle this. “Are you oka— how can I help— what can I—“ 

Jason cleared his throat, “Morning sleeping beauty. Feeling pretty sore, I take it?” He’d twisted to be able to see Tim better but kept his posture open. It was easier having his bumbling older brother here. Made it easier for his brain to not hyper-focus on all the things Jason is doing wrong. 

Tim made a grumbled noise, a small pout over taking his features before he seemed to go blank faced. Guarded . And it hurt Dick to see it. It was like when he first started training to become Robin all over again. He thought he’d finally gotten Tim to open up. To feel safe enough to open up around him and be himself. It hurt knowing that Tim wasn’t sure he could trust him. That he was trying to protect himself from being hurt again. 

“Obviously.” Tim sniped at Jason, subtly shifting as best as he could to stretch his stiff joints. He bit back a wince as his wrist gave a twinge. “Did you check to see if my wrist was sprained?” It was mostly curiosity rather than because his wrist hurt. He knew Jason dressed him and got him out of the shower, but past that, he couldn’t be sure. If he hadn’t heard part of Jason’s freak out about how bad he thought Tim would feel about it, perhaps he’d have been worried more about the fact he wasn’t sure what else happened while he was unaware. 

“Nope. Didn’t touch you more than necessary to get you dried and dressed while you were unconscious.” Jason shook his head, explaining in that weird gentle voice he’d been using since he’d blown up at Tim and apologized. It felt… weirdly patronizing to Tim. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it.”

Tim gave a small answering hum, before carefully pushing himself up to sit. He controlled his breathing to avoid making noise this time. He rubbed his eyes again. They burned, like he’d kept them open too long. And felt crusty. Dammit this is why he hates sleeping. It always makes things feel worse. “I think I’ve slept off the last of whatever the fuck they slipped me. I feel like shit, but I don’t feel like I did when I got here.” He explains, his tone grumpy. 

Which isn’t saying much. His head feels more clear but he’s in more pain than he thought he’d be. Maybe falling asleep in the shower wasn’t the best idea. Especially with the bruises littered all over him. Maybe he should’ve expected feeling like shit. Dick’s staring at him like he’s lost his mind or something. Tim’s only confused long enough to realize he doesn’t have his filter going. He’s too tired to try fixing it. Dick better just get used to this. He can't be bothered to pretend right now. Not to mitigate their reactions. 

“Okay,” Jason acknowledges quietly. After giving Dick a ‘contain yourself’ look, he turned back to Tim, looking hesitant. “Do you want to try some over the counter pain meds? Ibuprofen. Tylenol. Or I can get you the ice packs again.” 

“I also brought some of the travel test kits, if you wanna check to see if whatever they slipped you is completely out of your system…” Dick added, wringing his hands together. “And your laptops. And more blankets. And—“

“No… No, I just need my laptops.” Tim huffed out, irritation burning under his skin. But he couldn’t keep avoiding Dick’s pleading gaze. It’s always like this if he gets hurt. Dick just gets all overbearing, stifling and overly annoying. A part of him can’t help the burning behind his eyes, because it’s comforting. He hates the conflicting feelings over it. He’s not Dick’s problem but he can’t deny that having someone fuss over him makes his chest tight. He forces out an exhale. He could give a small olive branch.  “And… maybe some coffee?” 

Jason gives a snort, even as Dick claps his hands, fully prepared to jump up and go grab Tim coffee. Did he even know where Jason kept the coffee? No. He absolutely didn’t. Fucking Golden retriever is what he is. “How about coffee and food? While you explain to us what plan that big brain of yours thought up?” He arched an eyebrow as Dick looked between him and Tim, as if unsure who he should support from that. Jason hoped Dick joined the ‘get Tim to eat some food’ team because damn that boy needs to eat some fucking food.’

“I’m not hungry.” Tim mumbled, not looking at them, instead staring intently at the floor in front of him, his hair shielding his eyes. His stomach twisted at the thought of forcing himself to try to eat to appease them. His palms couldn’t possibly grip the blanket any tighter. 

“Not even for some fresh bread and soup?” Jason tried, resisting the urge to frown as he watched the kid shut down. Why is the kid shutting down? Did he think Jason would threaten to call someone else if he couldn’t get him to eat? Fuck how much did he fuck up already? “Alfie’s recipe. You sure you just want coffee?” He asked, trying to clarify that if Tim only wanted Coffee he wouldn’t push him to try eating yet. 

Coffee was safe. Is safe. Will always be safe. Because Tim doesn’t add anything to it. And Dick wouldn’t put anything in it. And he doubted Jason would put anything in it. His hands trembled, and to hide it, he pulled them close, hiding them in the blanket. They wouldn’t put anything in any of the food they gave him. 

He knew that. He knows that. He does but it doesn’t stop the dread curling in his stomach or the sharp inhale that makes his chest hurt. 

“Tim?”

He thought his father wouldn’t put anything in his food. That he’d never drug him. Would never sell him off. His eyes are burning again. His chest feels tight and the trembling is getting worse. Fuck, fuck— he knows things but he’s already been wrong about so much. He was wrong about his dad— wrong about Jason letting him stay long enough to handle his injuries and shower— what else is he wrong about?!

“Timmy?” 

He’s not hearing them. He’s not really seeing the floor in front of him. He’s seeing the sneer his father gave him as he left the meeting he was supposed to be learning from. As his body wouldn’t respond to him as he tried to fight — as he tried to reach for his dad— he can feel the hands on him again— he punched on reflex when he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see Dick wince as Tim’s fist connected with his stomach but his smile tightened, looking more like a grimace than a smile. Tim is heaving out air as the feeling of hands dragging down his skin despite being fully covered makes itself less known. He makes eye contact with Dick and he’s reading the warmth, the concern, the worry, other emotions he’s not quite sure of swirling in that warm gaze. 

“That one’s on me. Sorry.” He held his hands up in a show of meaning no harm. Tim was still breathing fast and hard, eyes wild as he struggled to focus on Dick. On Dick not being a threat . “Can you breathe with me?” He started over exaggerating his breathing and Tim, despite barely registering the question, started unconsciously following the slowed breathing. He trusts Dick. 

By the time Tim had calmed down he’d pulled the blanket tighter around himself, refusing to meet either Dick or Jason’s gazes. “I’m… I’m good… Sorry…” his voice was small and his cheeks burning with shame and embarrassment. 

“Hey, no, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to drive you into a panic.” Dick shook his head, lowering his hands to fall back at his side. He shifted, unsure. As if he wasn’t sure he wanted to move away from Tim or move closer . 

“Yeah, sorry kid. Kinda dumb on my part.” Jason spoke up, from the kitchen. He’d moved a bit closer but only made it to where Tim could see him better. It helped Tim’s nerves as his posture grew a little more relaxed. “If it was something you had to throw up— then obviously you had to have eaten it. I can see why eating anything would be unappealing right now.”

“Jay—“ Dick started. 

“No, I fucked up, I’m owning up to it. He’s not dumb Dickie— he knows we’re not usually this stupid either.”

“Hey, I’m not—“

They both cut off at a soft giggle escaping Tim, who’s covering his mouth, his cheeks flushing darker when he realizes they’re looking at him again. “S-sorry. It’s just…this feels really bizarre right now. It’s just…” he makes a motion to the three of them. “It’s kinda funny…”

Dick and Jason share a look before they share a small laugh too. “You’re damn right this is a little funny Timbo. Me and Goldie over there, just constantly arguing and over something as stupid as this.”

Dick rolled his eyes but turned his attention back to Tim. “I can move away now, if that would help. You weren’t responding to us and I know that I’d rather be punched or suffer a nerve strike if it meant making sure you didn’t need to go through that alone.” 

Tim hesitates before shaking his head. “It’s okay… I just…” he’s unsure before he finally just gives a shrug. He hates asking for things like physical affection. He’s always been so jealous Dick didn’t seem to get embarrassed asking for it or offering it. He wished he could do that. Even his team understood and had made dumb protocols for it. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’s glad they’re overly affectionate with him. He loves their cuddle pile movie nights. 

“Can I give you a hug?” Dick asked softly when Tim seemed to be struggling with words. “You can say no, and I can sit in the chair or go back to the kitch—“

“Please?” He asks, his voice breaking. He refused to look at them again. He’s not sure he can look at either of them without feeling guilty, especially when he’s asking for something like this. It’s not like he’s their problem. “I-I think I could really use one of your hugs right now.” 

“Of course. I’m going to move to sit next to you.” Dick told him, telegraphing his movements and glad he was as Tim eyed every move he made. As he sat, he carefully opened his arms out to him,  “Do you want me to initiate the hug?” Tim hesitated before nodding. He leaned closer to him as Dick carefully wrapped his arms around him. He nuzzled his cheek into the top of Tim’s hair. “This okay?”

“You can hold me tighter…” Tim mumbled out. “I’m not made of glass, just bruised like hell.”

“Do you want him to do one of his octopus hugs with you?” Jason calls out from the kitchen, making the youngest of the three glance up at him before looking away and nodding slowly. He still wished he was boneless. And what better way than one of Dick’s usual hugs?

Dick hesitated, waiting for Tim to glance up to his gaze before asking, “You’re sure?”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” Tim gave a small shrug, feeling uncomfortable at possibly messing this up. What if Dick didn’t want to hug him and— Dick started shifting around him, carefully contorting himself around Tim, hooking one leg behind him and to the side of him before bringing his other leg carefully over his lap, making sure to not touch or jostle Tim as much as possible before finally getting comfortable enough to hug him closer. 

“Of course I want to hug you. If I had my way, I’d have scooped you up as soon as I got here.”

“What, Jay stop you?” Tim huffs out what suspiciously sounds like a small laugh as he curls closer to him, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder. He starts relaxing into him, a feeling of contentment flooding through him.

“No. You were sleeping. And I wasn’t sure you’d want me here. Or want to be touched.” Dick explains quietly. 

Tim stiffens, not looking at either of them again. “Oh… so then you both… know?”

“We have assumptions, baby bird.” Jason shakes his head, moving slowly to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. “But as I told you earlier, you don’t gotta talk about it unless you want to— even if Dickie and I want to know what happened. All we have is enough bits and pieces to come to a conclusion that may or may not be right.”

Tim swallows. “It’d be… easier? If I—if I told you, wouldn’t it?”

“Easier for an investigation? Yeah. Easier for you? Probably not.” Jason replied softly. “Look kid, whatever you went through probably isn’t going to be easy for you to talk about. And you don’t have to talk to us about it.”

Dick hesitated before nuzzling the top of Tim’s head again. “How about we tell you what we have so far, based off of the evidence we have? And you can tell us if it’s accurate.” He offered. “Or we can turn on a movie and just chill out with you.”

Pulling the blanket closer, Tim thought about his options. “I… I need to do some stuff on the computer. Research. Find where my dad—“ his voice broke on the word and he winced, his grip on the blanket tightening. “—went. I-he— I just need the laptops…”

Jason hesitated. “Is there anything we can help with?”

“I don’t know… I… I just— I don’t know…”

“How about researching?” Dick offers. “That way it’s not all on you to do?”

“I…” Tim hesitates before shaking his head. “No… I can handle it.”

“Then do you just want us here for moral support?” Jason asked, “I still need to check out your wrist if it’s bothering you.”

“It’s… still sore but not as bad as earlier.” Tim replied quietly. “Doesn’t feel sprained. Just tender.” He doubts him not answering the question when unnoticed but it doesn’t seem like either of them will push on it. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me or Dickie to look at it?” 

Tim hesitates before shaking his head, moving to hold his arm out. “I’m pretty sure it’s just bruised if anything, but… I’ll let you take a look. It was the deal for the shower right?”

“Deal?” Dick frowned, looking towards Jason.

Jason exhaled softly. “Timbo, I wanted to make sure you weren’t minimizing your injuries. The shower was because you wanted one. Not because of some bogus deal. If you don’t want me looking at it, fine.”

“Y-you can look at it.” Tim decided. “And… and tell me what you guys already know?”

“Do you care if I sit with you two? It’ll make it easier to check your wrist, but I don’t have to.” Jason hummed as Dick agreed. 

“Yeah, we’ll tell you what we’ve put together so far, though we’re not certain how accurate it is.”

“That’s fine.” Tim replied before he nodded to Jason. “I don’t mind you being by me Jay. I mean, if you were going to do something…” he made a face, barely suppressing a shudder. “Unsavory, you wouldn’t have made food, called Dick, or gotten me dressed and swaddled on the couch after I fell asleep in the shower.” He pointed out. Plus Jason never failed to let it slip how scummy he thought people were if they took advantage of like that. Particularly the working girls and kids. Again, he’s glad he heard Jason freaking out about him freaking out. It helps if he’s being honest. 

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that Timmy?” Jason snorts, shaking his head as he pushes himself up off the chair slow and easy. He mimicked Dick and telegraphed his movements as he moved to the couch to sit on the other side of Tim. 

“So I’ve been told.” Tim snickers, despite his eyes keenly watching every move Jason makes, only settling again when Jason’s fully seated. “I’ve also been told I’m an annoying shit too, so who knows if it’s true.”

“You do realize one doesn’t cancel out the other right? Both can be true at the same time?” Dick laughed. 

“Uh huh, sure.” Tim rolled his eyes, despite his smile growing. He offered Jason his arm, hesitating. “So… um… what have you guys put together so far?”

“Not much past the basics,” Jason explained quietly, carefully maneuvering Tim’s wrist to test it. Tim winced a couple times as they went through the motions. 

“We know you should have been doing something with your dad.” Dick started. “When I called over to your place, no one answered. Your dad either did what happened to you, or you were both kidnapped. Which ever one happened; You managed to get away, and you fled here.”

“Yeah. And even if your dad didn’t do this to you, someone’s been abusing you long before now… I’d recognize the scars you’ve got anywhere. Before… before. I had them too.” Jason lets go of Tim’s hand, gently dropping it to lay over Dick’s ankles. “You’re right, it doesn't look sprained or broken. Looks like you might’ve bruised it a bit.”

Tim swallowed but sank into Dick’s warmth again. The other gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I could handle it just fine…”

“Baby bird, the point is you shouldn’t have had to. No kid should.” 

“Yeah, Timmy.” Dick mumbled, nuzzling into the top of his head. 

Tim inhales softly, trying not to freak out again. Trying not to cry again. Trying to remember he’s safe and not see the events that led up to this. Tried to keep his breathing even. He sniffled as he started talking again. He feels kinda hollow again. “it didn’t even really get bad this time until after Mom—“ new tears sprang up to his eyes, but he managed to keep going after his voice broke, “—and then he started to try blackmailing me but he couldn’t prove it so I— I thought he would let it go? And he-he- he didn’t— and I’m so stupid— it was so obvious and I just didn’t want to believe it—“

“Hey, hey,” Dick shifted to gently rub Tim’s shoulder. “You’re far from stupid. It’s oka—“

“No it isn’t!” Tim cried, twisting to fist both of his hands into Dicks shirt, tears streaming down his face as he buried it into the other’s shoulders. “None of this is okay!”

“How about you explain why it isn’t, Timbit?” Jason called softly. 

“He knows I’m Robin.” Tim whimpered into Dick’s shirt. “He-He—“ he hiccuped, burying his face further into his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t want to cry again but he couldn’t help the liquid bleeding into the cotton under them. “He- tried-he tried to—“ he cuts himself off to muffle a sob. He feels guilty that he can’t even explain things without ‘the theatrics’ as his mother would say. 

Dick’s fingers carded gently through his hair, making him curl closer. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe. We’ve got you. Let it out.”

“Tim, can I rub circles into your back?” Jason asked softly from behind him, hands hovering his back. “I don’t have to— I can go get some water or something instea-“

Another sob wrenched out of Tim’s throat as his brain didn’t process anything other than the word ‘go’, “D-don’t go— don’t go please don’t go—I’m sorry don’t go— I — please—“ he cried, one hand clutching onto Dick’s shirt, the other moving to fist into the fabric of Jason’s sweats at the knee. 

“It’s alright Timbo, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to touch your back now. Tell me if you need me to stop.” Jason soothed, pressing his thumbs into his back gently, rubbing in small circles, well above the bruises. “Dickie and I are right here. We won’t go anywhere. We’re here.”

“We’ve got you.” Dick repeated, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “We’re staying. It’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

And the dam broke as Tim wailed quietly in their arms. It didn’t help his throat. It feels less raw than it had earlier but it still hurts like putting hand sanitizer in half a dozen paper cuts as he babbles wordlessly and cries. But he feels so warm and safe that he almost doesn’t care that he’s breaking down again. Even as he’s heaving out his heart, it feels better than it did when he did this in the shower. 

Tim's not sure how long they stayed sitting like that, both Jason and Dick holding him, reassuring him as he cried, but by the time his tears had stopped, his face felt puffy and the skin around his eyes hurt. “S-sorry. Didn’t mean to cry so much.” He says quietly as he shifts to use the sleeve to rub at his face. He feels guilty that he did this. That they comforted him. That they still haven’t let go and left . It isn’t fair to them but he knows he feels so much better with them right here. He feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to leave. But he’s not their problem. He needs to quit being so selfish. 

“Crying is the body’s way of relieving stress.” Dick tells him earnestly. “Don’t apologise for it.”

“Crying with people around is manipulative.” Tim replied quietly. “It makes people respond, one way or another.”

“I’ll make whoever said that to you will wish I’d killed em right away when I get my hands on em.” Jason snarls, and despite the snarl, he’s still rubbing small soothing circles in his back. “Crying can be manipulative- but not like this. You’re not manipulating us brat.” 

Tim’s not quite sure he believes that. He doesn’t deserve their comfort—it’s not like he’s their brother. After everything is all said and done, he won’t even be Robin. 

“Do you want some water?” Dick asks him softly. “I know Jay’s got some sealed water if that helps.”

“I can grab it and be quick, kid.” Jason offered. “You can see the kitchen from here, if that helps. Truth be told, I’d rather keep my eye on you, so if I go grab some water, maybe the ice packs again, I can be qui—“

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Tim mumbled out. “I’m not really thirsty. And all this crying is making me nauseous again.” He also really didn’t want them to let go of him yet- manipulative or not. 

“Yeah, well vomiting and crying dehydrates you fast.” Jason teases lightly. “You can wait on the water, until a little later, but you really should at least drink something.”

“Would it help if Jay and I ate and drank whatever we gave you, and do that in front of you? That way you know it’s safe?”

Tim frowned, his brows furrowing, “but I know you wouldn’t do anything to the food… I know it but it’s irrational—“

“So do we— uh on the knowing we wouldn’t do anything to it— I don’t think it’s irrational. If it helps, it helps.” Jason shrugs. “Besides, I was kinda like that for like the first couple months or so at the mansion. Was convinced Bruce would slip me something and I’d wake up sore and not where I was supposed to be.” Dick shifted to try to meet Jason’s gaze with a soft one of his own but Jason scowled at him. “Oh fuck off— it’s not like anything happened. I was a street kid who knew what the wealthy men who stopped in the Alley wanted. How was I supposed to just believe B wasn’t that way?”

“Did… did he mind that you were scared of eating anything?” Tim asks, his voice small but hopeful. Jason hoped it was because Tim hoped them trying the food would help him believe it was safe. That he’ll eventually not need something like that to eat, because Jason can pretty much eat whatever without a concern now. though he’s sure he can thank the pits for boosting his body to metabolize drugs faster, but he’s not gonna tell Tim that. He hoped the kid was realising Jason can relate to him with this shit situation just a little bit. 

“Not really. He didn’t even really draw attention to it. He’d take a few bites of his own food, say that my plate looked more appetizing than his own, and then swap plates and eat mine instead. I didn’t even realize what he was doing until I went to tell Babs how weird he was during one of our tutoring sessions.” Jason laughed. “And if us trying it doesn’t work for you, we can drag out one of the testing kits Dickie brought and you can test it to make sure it’s clean.” 

Tim hesitated again before shaking his head. “I… I think the water at least would be fine s’long as it’s still sealed. But… I’m not really… keen on actually eating yet.” 

“Okay, you want me to go get you a water now—“ Jason starts, shifting as if to pull away. Tim’s fist tightened on the fabric of his sweats. 

“Please don’t.” Tim shook his head, an embarrassed flush settling over his cheeks. “I just— i feel… safe? And I… I don’t… really want to be let go of yet…” It's selfish. He knows it’s selfish but he hopes they’ll indulge him a little longer. 

“Oh Timmy,” Dick kissed the top of his head again. “It’s okay. We’ll stay like this as long as you need, okay?”

“Yeah Timbo. If us holding you is helping, we’ll keep doing it.” Jason assured, leaning into him as he hooked an arm around him. Tim can’t help but relax into their arms. 

“It’s childish.” Tim mumbles out, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue again. 

“Too damn bad we don’t mind it huh?” Jason snarks back playfully. “Seriously kid, you’re like what, thirteen? If you want some cuddles just fucking ask.”

“I’m fifteen and a half, thank you.” Tim huffs out, despite curling closer to them. He bites out another yawn. “It’s really stupid that I’m kinda tired again.”

“Actually, given the kinda night you’ve had, it makes sense.” Dick excuses softly. “Do you wanna try getting some more sleep?”

“Not really…” Tim replied quietly. If he slept, he’d have to do this later. And he doesn’t want to do this later. He wants to get this over with. Wants them to know everything so they can stop pretending they care. And so he doesn’t have to deal with the possibility of nightmares again. At least not for a while yet. “I… I think I might be ready to talk a bit more… I… might not break down this time.”

“It’s okay if you do.” Jason reminds him gently. “It sounds like it’s been rough.” 

“It… was.” Tim exhaled softly, picking at the blanket, “I… I really thought my dad was going to take a small trip with me. He kept delaying it. And then he’d gotten upset about something and basically locked me in my room at one point. And then was fine again— he gets like that sometimes… just irrationally mad and then acts like he wasn’t.” He hesitates, shaking his head. “It wasn’t really out of the norm since mom…” he trailed off before  clearing his throat. “But when he finally determined I was allowed out of my room, he was acting like he wasn’t upset anymore. He claimed it was because of work, but I’m sure he just got pissed because I still wouldn’t admit I was R-Robin. That I was going out and being a vigilante. H-He said we’d have a meeting with one of his associates. That he’d show me how Drake Business meetings differ from the few I’ve done with my “internship” at Wayne Enterprises.” He gives a quiet scoff. “It’s stupid, but I was actually kinda excited because he usually didn’t usually try to include me in any of that.” He let out a shuddered breath, sniffling as his eyes stung again. Dammit, he’s tired of crying. Jason shifted to start rubbing circles into his back with his other hand again.

“We’d grabbed food from a restaurant to go before we’d gone to meet up with— with—“ Tim shook, his eyes squeezing shut as he moved to hide his face. He counted to ten, holding his breath and letting it out as Dick and Jason tried to soothe him. “We met up with him -“ he fought back a gag, “-and it seemed pretty normal at first. Sure, it was kinda sketchy but that wasn’t outside the norm for my parents. Some of their digs have been sketchy. It wasn’t a real rundown office either. The meeting started off how some of Bruce’s do. And I was mostly ignored, encouraged to just listen and eat. And I— I did. I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I started missing pieces of the conversation. And by the time I noticed— they’d already noticed it too…” he’s got tears streaming down his face and he’s barely able to manage to sound louder than a whisper. “I-I begged my dad not to leave when he got up to leave after shaking hands with that—“ he shuddered again, a whine escaping him. “H-he took the money the guy handed him— just- he-“ a small whine escaped Tim as he shook. 

“It’s okay, we can stop now if you want.” Dick offered softly. 

“H-he sold me— and he looked so disgusted by me begging him not to go— he-he caught my cheekbone with one of his rings when he backhanded me— and told me it was my fault. I knew what’d I’d  done— and if I did as I was told he’d come back— I wasn’t supposed to fight back— but I lost some time after that guy took me to another building and-and he— I—“

“Really Tim, it’s okay. you don’t have to tell us anymore, we can take a break—“

“I think I killed him.” Tim whispered, causing the both of them to freeze beside him. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth as he tries to explain— desperate for them to not let him go because he’d fucked up. “I was struggling to move. They… they didn’t use a strong enough dose or—“ he swallowed the words down with the rising nausea in his stomach. Or I wasn’t meant to be asleep for it. “Or— he waited too long to- um uh- to try— and he was- he got his pants off and I just—I-I swung the heel of hand up against his nose.” He can still hear that devastating crunch of the nose breaking and the dead weight crumpling on top of him. The feeling of being trapped and knowing if he didn’t run— if he didn’t get somewhere safe — something even worse was going to happen. He shook, trying to get rid of the disgust at both the feeling of breaking someone’s nose the wrong way and the full body weight pinning him to the ground hit him again. He felt like he was suffocating as the realisation of his actions caught up to him. But the relief was sickening too. He killed him—he shouldn’t be happy but he is. “He wasn’t moving— wasn’t breathing when I got him off of me. Oh god, I killed somebody.” 

They both hold him closer at the confession. He doesn’t deserve this but he can’t bring himself to push them away yet. “Kid, it was self-defense—“

“No, it wasn’t. I was trained by Lady Shiva— sure I never crossed the line into killing while training with her but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t trained.” Tim shot back, sniffling. “I wasn’t even thinking— I just wanted to get away. And I— I killed him…”

“Did you intend to kill him?” Dick asks softly. 

“…no…” Tim mumbled out. “But I still killed him— and I—“ he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m—I’m relieved he’s gone so that means—“

“No you didn’t. It’s self defense, like Jaybird said. You wanted him off you. You were drugged up and disorientated. He was bigger than you too, right?” 

“Y-yeah?”

“Case closed. Absolutely self defense.” Jason exhaled softly, he shifted to grab his phone, recalling what Tim had said earlier. “Do you know where you were?”

“Kinda? Like I said, you were closer than anyone else.” Tim hesitated, his eyes narrowing at Jason. “Why?”

“Because if it’s around here; that’s definitely my territory.” Jason grits his teeth. “Which means even if he is dead, and is affiliated with anyone else, me and my boys are gonna be doing some hunting. Otherwise, I’m just gonna be getting rid of the evidence.” He explains. If Tim already disposed of the fucker who left the majority of those bruises, fine. The least he can do is take care of it so no one asks the runt questions. So that this takes care of one problem so they can focus on the kid’s asshole sperm donor. 

“But—“

Jason shot him a look, “Baby bird, if I don’t take care of the body, the cops’ll probably get involved. And it’s possible someone will find your DNA there. If you don’t want me to; fine. But if you’d like to keep this quiet; let me take care of it. Okay?”

Tim hesitated, chewing his tongue as he debated it. “You don’t have to… it’s my mess…”

“Our mess.” Dick shook his head, nuzzling into him, tucking Tim closer to him. It still feels selfish to feel so safe wrapped up in their arms when they don’t owe him anything for this. “You’re not in this alone, Tim. Let us help?”

“Besides, if it’s really around my territory; I should clean it up. It’s what I do for anyone else who comes to me for help.” Jason explained softly. “Though, if the issue is over me leaving, I can just make a few calls to kickstart my investigation. That way I don’t have to leave for a while.” 

Tim hesitated before nodding. “Okay… I was really out of it but I think I could probably look at a map and give you a general location of where I was at?”

“Sounds good Baby bird.” Jason hands him his phone after clicking his maps open. A general location would be better than anything else. It’d give him a start. 

Tim took it, zooming in and trying to figure out what streets he remembered seeing on his way. It hadn’t really been a priority. His face scrunches as he focuses on the screen before using his finger to circle an area and showing the phone to Jason. “It was an abandoned building. No one else seemed to be there in the building. Wasn’t really anyone outside either. There should be a dumpster with really nice bright red graffiti on it outside not too far from the building— that’s about where I threw up. If I hadn’t felt like vomiting, I… probably wouldn’t have noticed it.” He explained as he handed the phone back to Jason. 

Jason nods, “okay, I’ll take care of this. Want me to keep you in the loop?”

“Not really…” Tim shakes his head. He just wanted to be done with it. 

“Absolutely.” Dick replied at the same time. 

Jason just snorts, not looking up from his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. “Okay, got it.” 

Dick hesitated nudging Tim gently, “You feeling up to that movie now?”

Tim debates the question before nodding. “And maybe some of that bread?” He asks quietly. “It’d probably be better to try to eat a little before I get on my computers to start finding my… to find Jack…”

“Yeah, we can do a movie and food.” Jason agrees with a nod, putting his phone down, seemingly done with whatever he was doing. Probably ordering some of his guys to find the warehouse. Start the investigation like he said he would. “Do you just want the bread, or you wanna try the soup too?”

“J-just the bread?” Tim asks, ducking closer to Dick. He really wasn’t sure he could manage it. 

“I’ll take a little of both, if you’re offering to grab it.” Dick beamed at his brother. 

Jason rolls his eyes but grins as he gives Tim a squeeze. “Okay, okay. I’ll grab the food. You guys pick the movie.” He pushes himself up, to start heading to the kitchen

“We will. And we can keep cuddling until Timmy says he’s had enough of it.” Dick laughs, nuzzling closer to Tim after he’d grabbed the remote. 

Tim’s cheeks flush again but he tries to give them both a small smile. It seems to probably be the most successful one he’s managed since he’s gotten here. “Sounds good… can we watch a Sherlock movie? O-or I’d be okay with one of the lord of the ring movies?”

“Whichever is fine with me.” Dick agrees, flicking through the options on the screen, he lowered his voice a teasing gleam in his eyes, “though I’m sure Jay wouldn’t be opposed to a Sherlock movie. He’d nerd out and complain about how we need to marathon the Lord of the Ring movies to get the full experience for it.”

Tim snorted, his smile growing. “Okay, so Sherlock it is then.” He settled into a more comfortable position, nuzzling into Dick’s chest, humming contentedly when Dick gave him a reassuring squeeze. This was okay. He could indulge in this for a little while. And then he’ll set a boundary line and make sure they knew they didn’t have to take care of him. He had a plethora of plans to choose from. He’d worry about figuring it out later. He’s warm, comfortable and safe . 

They can worry about Tim’s paternal donor in a few hours. For now, cuddles… and brotherly bonding . 

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