Actions

Work Header

Walking the Tightrope

Summary:

Tim has shared his head with Junior since he was thirteen years old.
Occasionally, he has relied on his friend for solace when things get rough.
But he has not relinquished his time at the forefront in some time, even at the tower. Even when his little brother tried to kill him. Several times.
Junior is Tim's protector, his friend. And, well, circumstances arise when he is drawn out again.

Notes:

A sequel to Twisted Solace, this can be read as a stand alone.
This is not meant to sensationalize or vilify DID or similar disorders. I have attempted to write it in a way that is respectful.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Reemergence

Summary:

Tim is grabbed by someone who has no idea what they are in for.
Junior has a plan.
The bats and Tim's friends would appreciate being looped in on said plan, please and thank you.

Notes:

Content Warnings: Torture, murder, abduction, dissociative identities, PTSD.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Friday night patrols are usually minimally busy. Tim and his siblings have a small tradition of grabbing batburger. Sometimes, if he isn’t feeling it, Tim will skip out on it. But tonight, it actually sounds good. For once, he’s excited to spend time with his family.

He was supposed to be back an hour ago, but Tim is still finishing up a quick scope through Steph’s route. She broke her ankle on a mission last week and everyone is taking a little extra time to ensure Spoiler’s absence won’t leave the people of the Narrows unprotected. Not that Jason is particularly thrilled about this development. But what the Red Hood doesn’t know ahead of time won’t hurt him.

The crumbling brick buildings line the streets around Tim. The Gotham smog clinging to the corners and roofs. It’s a bad night to go playing grapple tag, but Tim might suggest it anyway. Damian loves a challenge. Plus it would be good training for them all.

Tim is just considering how to convince Bruce and Alfred to sign off on a grapple tag adventure in the fog when he catches sight of a moving shadow in his peripheral vision. Tim turns to pursue it when he feels a slight pinprick on his left calf. There’s a miniscule pin in his leg.
Oh shit.

Tim taps the comm in his ear.
“Oracle, I’ve been tagged with an unknown dart, dipped in something. No indications.” Tim reports.
“LOA?” She replies, the audio scratchy, like something is trying to interfere with their connection.
“No. They would have used something different.” Tim dismisses. He’s been drugged by the League of Assassins before. They would have been more discrete.
“Drugged my tes or somethin’” Tim mumbles.

Tim is beginning to feel woozy, the world moving around him without him taking a step.
“Dizzy. Loss of Coordination. Unable to flee.” Tim updates, leaning heavily on the wall to his right. Tim looks around for the nearest security camera. The Narrows doesn’t have great security infrastructure, frequent rolling blackouts tend to make cameras moot. He can't find one. 

“Stay where you are, RR…” Barbra’s voice fades in and out of Tim’s ear. More the drugs than any issue with the comms. Tim fumbles and hits his emergency beacon. This is progressing very quickly. Whoever did this is waiting around to do something to Tim, surely.

“They’re close.” He whispers, knowing that she’ll catch it. Oracle has his back. Just like before.

Tim remains conscious just long enough to register that no one will be able to get to him in time. Robin is across the city with Nightwing. Spoiler is helping out in the cave. Black Bat is in midtown, tying up some thieves with Batman. Jason doesn’t even know Tim is here, he’s on the other side of the Narrows, taking out dealers who broke his rules. Tim is alone.

He mentally prepares himself for whatever could be coming. Abduction. Torture. Something worse. Possibly death.

Batman is going to be pissed. Majorly disappointed. Tim hangs his head in shame.
This is totally gonna suck. The darkness, cold and cruel, snakes tendrils around his limbs.

Hands grab him under his armpits and knees, and Tim can feel himself being lifted and stuffed into the trunk of a car before he loses consciousness completely.
He has just enough time to think Oh god not again, before the lid shuts and he blacks out entirely.

*************************************************************************************************************

Tim wakes up tied to a table, his limbs stretched and pulled to be tied to it’s four legs. He pretends to stretch his neck groggily, to get a better look at his surroundings.
A windowless room. Metal sheeting on the walls, slightly reflective.

Probably somewhere near the docks, he surmises. The table is metal, edges sharp.
If he strains, Tim can just about hear the sounds of the tide coming into Gotham bay.
Must be around 2AM then.

The door creaks open, the silhouette of a large man stands in the doorway, back lit by a yellow light.

“Greetings Red Robin. My name is Josiah Wormwood, also called the Interrogator. I have been hired to extract your secrets.” The man says calmly. Tim scoffs.
“Secrets? Me? Puh-lease!” Tim wiggles around on his back.

His utility belt has been removed, his gauntlets, his watch, his hidden weapons. Even his tracker sewn into his suit. Shit.

“You see, Red Robin, we wish to know about the bats. The more you talk, the less this’ll hurt.”

The first hit comes from his right, snapping Tim’s head to the left. His cheek stinging. The man makes to remove the domino but it shocks him. It shocks Tim too. But he can tolerate it.

Barbra had suggested years ago setting the masks to electrocute anyone who tried to remove it without permission. Tim set his mask up so only Dick, Bruce, or Alfred could remove it. And Cassie, Bart, Kon, or Cass under special circumstances.

The shock does cause Tim’s head to bang into the metal table. Which hurts. But it’s fine. Tim can handle it. He has to handle it.

The Interrogator curses. “Fine, we’ll do all this the hard way.” He commands. An assistant enters from the doorway and walks around the table, out of Tim’s line of sight. Everything in Tim wants to twist to watch him. But Wormwood is the bigger threat, so he continues to face forward.

That was a mistake, his brain quips as a gag is wrenched into Tim’s mouth, forcing his jaw open. A bag is wrapped around his head. Then buckets of water pour through. Tim sputters, coughing against the gag as water filters in.

The bag is ripped off and again the interrogator pulls at the domino, shocking them both.

Electricity crackles and Tim writhes. This repeats again and again. Tim is pretty sure his skull has dented the table beneath him. His binds hold fast, tearing on the ropes is miniscule. His only hope is that Oracle sends help soon. Sooner than last time, his brain supplies unhelpfully.

Tim can hear JJ’s laughter building in the back of his mind. The pain sends him reeling again. They’ve started slashing at his limbs and abdomen. Some sort of acid has been applied to his chest. Every breath feels like fire. There are questions being asked but Tim ignores them.

“Agree to talk or I’ll bring out the big guns.” Wormwood growls into Tim’s ear. Tim shakes his head as best as he’s able. He’s been tortured before. Wormwood can’t be worse than the Joker.

Burning sensations fill his limbs and stomach. Has to be acid mixed with something else. Tim pulls against his restraints, but to no avail. He realizes what the acid is mixed with when his torturer pulls out a lighter. Petroleum, it burns bright and hot. Tim shudders.

Tim can see his reflection on the wall. He’s looking rough. But the corners of his mouth are lifting in a smile without his permission. Uh oh. The smell of his own burning flesh will not help matters.

Tim tries to hold on. Most of his trackers had been removed. But the one Tim put under his own skin, incision marks hidden by an old scar, provides a small amount of solace. Kon and the team know about it. Bruce might know about it. They’ll activate it and find him. They’ll find Tim. He just has to hang on.

Wormwood asks more questions but Tim stays as silent as he can. He won’t taunt the man like he did Joker. Won’t do him any good anyhow. Tim’s learned a thing or two since he was thirteen.

Laughter and whimpers bubble out of Tim around the fabric in his mouth involuntarily. Wormwood must think he’s ready to talk since he sets down the lighter that he was about to burn most of Tim’s body with.

“Finally ready for a quick chat?” He asks. Tim twists and writhes against the table, trying desperately to get away. His limbs are moving more than he directs them to, like they have a mind of their own.

The gag is pulled from his mouth and he begins to giggle. It builds, Tim can’t even hear the questions he’s being asked. Soon it turns into the full cackle, signaling Junior’s imminent arrival and Tim feels sidelined in his own mind.

Let go, his mind urges. Tim doesn’t want to. He wants to stick around. He likes being in control.
It’s not safe, his mind whispers. Tim agrees. Definitely not safe here.

A cackle breaks free and Wormwood flinches.
Excellent, a voice says. Let Junior out to play.
Tim grips his binds tightly, feeling the ropes fray.

Tim lets go and Junior takes hold. Like a shield rising up to protect them both.

“Big mistake!” Junior yells, laughing. “You thought you’d get a little show. But there is something you don’t know.”
Wormwood’s eyes widen. “You’re…”

“I protect Red. And you’ve been mean. Which is my cue to be seen.” Junior sings, ripping an arm free.

Wormwood backs towards the door. Junior rips his other arm loose. His abductor’s assistant makes to grab Junior and force him back onto the table. But Junior chuckles darkly as he grabs the man’s head and twists sharply. The limp body falls to the ground.

Junior throws his head back in a guffaw. This is going to be fun.
“No!” Wormwood says, holding a hunting knife aloft. Junior smiles.

“Ah ah ahhh… that’s no fun.” Junior says, pulling his legs free. “We’re gonna have a party, you and I. Call your employer.”

Wormwood does. Junior grabs a gun from the assistant’s corpse and uses it to ensure his will is followed. No surprises this time.

Junior waits patiently for the representative from the Court of Owls to arrive. He has business to attend to.

*************************************************************************************************************

It takes the bats four whole days to track down Junior, even with the help of his teammates. Batman is loathsome to ask for help, possibly endangering more children. But knowing Tim’s friends, they were getting involved whether Batman calls them or not. Might as well make it official and seem like he has a say in what goes on in his own city. They arrive within two hours of Tim's abduction, and refuse to leave.

They look for Junior everywhere. The Tower, Tim’s nest, his various safe houses throughout the city. Even Superboy scans miles of Gotham and can’t find Tim’s heartbeat. Albeit, Tim and Junior’s heartbeats might differ. Bruce just doesn’t have enough data to support that conclusion yet.

When Red Hood crashed into the warehouse Tim had been tortured in, he found it empty, save a few corpses. One of the dead was a Talon, an errand boy for the Court of Owls. The rest were henchmen for hire, mostly those with loose scruples. The kind that wouldn’t object to the torture of a nineteen year old. Tim had been gone for only forty-five minutes when Jason arrived on scene. But that was enough for something to go amiss. Where the fuck is Tim?

From there the bats had been forced to follow Junior’s trail. Oracle’s facial recognition programs are usually sufficient but wherever they took Junior, it was off grid. Bruce canceled all JL meetings until further notice. Nothing is more important than finding his son.

Finally, after four tortuous days of scraps and vague leaps in logic, Junior waltzes back into the cave. He’s unarmed. He’s dirty. He looks like he hasn’t eaten. But Junior smiles calmly, with not even a giggle. His body language reveals nothing about his potential injuries. 

Bruce isn’t sure which is worse. An unhinged, involuntarily laughing, mini-Joker or a silent, secretly pleased boy who, if the dried blood on his clothes is anything to go by, may have murdered a slew of people.

“Junior?” Bruce asks, watching as the boy approaches, expression unchanged. He nods, walking past all of them, including his teammates, and into the medical wing.

Junior lets only Alfred patch him up and everyone else waits anxiously outside his room. Bruce stands there, looking at each of his children, of Tim’s friends, of everyone who loves his son.
Thank you.” Bruce says, locking eyes with each of them.

The kryptonian scoffs and crosses his arms.
“Why are you thanking us? He brought himself back.”
Bruce smiles. “Because you all love him. He’ll need you soon. Recovery is difficult.”
The speedster nods enthusiastically. “You got it B-man. Does this mean we can stay with him?” Bruce must look almost as startled as he feels by the suggestion because the blonde girl intervenes by elbowing the other in the stomach. “Shut up Bart.” She mutters under her breath.

Bart, Bruce notes. He’ll learn each of their names. There should be files for each of them on the batcomputer.

“Oh no. That’s his plotting face. He’s gonna kill us.” The super whines. Bruce quirks up an eyebrow at him. Batman does not kill. He…plans contingencies.

“We need to figure out what Junior did for four days.” Nightwing interrupts. Bruce nods in acknowledgement and thanks. He’s been trying to get better at that since coming back from getting lost in time. Dick nods back.

“Agreed.” Jason adds, fiddling with a knife. “Timmy is unhinged on a good day. There’s no telling what his green half came up with.” Cass agrees as well, signing to map his tracker.
“I thought the torturers removed Drakes trackers?” Robin asks. Cass shakes her head and looks to his teammates.

“Tim has an extra tracker, under his skin.” Kon admits, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “We tried that. It must have gotten removed.”
“It wasn’t deactivated by whatever they did to torture him?” Stephanie asks.
Kon shakes his head. “No. Tim rigged it to work even if he died. The only way it wouldn’t work would be…”
“If he cut it out.” Cassie finishes for him.

They all turn to look at the doorway to the medical bay. Whatever happened during his lost four days, Junior didn’t want them to know. Would Tim even know when and if he presents dominantly again?

Bruce tables these and other questions for later. What matters right now is making sure that his son is okay and starting up intensive outpatient sessions again.
“He’s been taking his meds, right?” Bruce asks quietly. The teens nod.
“When he forgets, we put them in his tea.” Bart says excitedly before slapping a hand over his mouth. Bruce hums. It does seem like a fairly effective delivery method, especially with how much honey Tim puts in his tea.

“I’ll have to try that next time.” Bruce says slowly, watching with amusement as the realization hits Tim’s friends. “He’s always been rather inconsistent about taking his medications.”

Bruce catches Dick stifling a smile and reaches out to wrap an arm around his eldest’s shoulders. Squeezing him into his side, Bruce takes a deep breath.
His son is home. His son is safe.
Whatever support he needs, he’ll have.

And whoever took him, well, whatever of them is left will have hell to pay. 

Notes:

Batman when Junior returns to the cave: oh thank goodness, he's alive
Junior, silent and covered in blood: ....
Batman: how many people did you kill? have you been taking your meds?
Junior / Tim's friends: Uhhh yeah we drug him regularly
Batman: Huh, good idea. I should try that
Friends: oh shit batman is cool with us drugging his son

Anyway, next chapters will focus on Junior's revenge, Tim's struggle with identity, and Jason remembering the tower through a flashback / nightmare.

Chapter 2: A Steady Step Forward

Summary:

Jason tries to process his feelings about seeing the aftermath of the scene and his little brother.
Junior plots.
Dick cuddles.
Most of the bats have absolutely no idea what's coming.

Notes:

Content warnings: PTSD, assault, violence, vague descriptions of murder, and references to future murder.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Everyone was dismissed from the cave once Junior’s medical exam was complete. Being after 3AM, it made sense to spend the night in manor. Jason shoots Roy a quick text to let him know where he’s staying the night.

Roy responds quickly.
You’re staying with the Waynes? His phone reads. Jason rolls his eyes.
Yea just the night, I’ll be back by lunch He responds.
Jason trudges to the family wing. Timantha’s teammates are all picking rooms in the guest wing and Jason has no desire to find out if Superboy snores like his namesake.
Most of the rooms have been claimed, except one. Jason’s old room remains available.

Jason rolls his shoulders and grits his teeth. This room, and the events of the last four days, will bring on nightmares. But Jason is too sleep deprived to drive and Roy can’t leave Lian alone to come to pick him up. So sleeping in the room Jason hasn’t been in since he ran off and died is his best option.

The door creaks open and Jason is surprised by what he finds. Everything is exactly where he left it, but the surfaces underneath are spotless. The bedding is turned down like he used to when he was fifteen.

Swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back tears, Jason steps inside cautiously. He steps around the squeaky floorboard and walks towards his bookcase. His hand-annotated copies of the classics sit on the shelf, ordered just as he kept them.

Shaking off the growing storm of thoughts clouding his mind, Jason changes into the spare pair of sweats that he stole from Dick’s locker down in the cave. He folds his gear carefully, and sets the stack onto the chair near the window. He used to read there in the rare Gotham sunshine. It feels like a lifetime ago. Jason slings his leather jacket across the back of the chair and lays down on top of the covers.

His mind is whirring at a million miles per hour. Junior’s checkup had indicated injuries from the initial torture but very few over the course of the last three days. Jason stares at the faded glow in the dark stars stuck on his ceiling as he mulls over the emotions Junior has brought up.

Descending on the scene, and finding nothing but bodies and Tim’s blood, had sent Jason on a rampage. None of the bats were holding back, truthfully. Brutal efficiency and harsh solutions seemed to be everyone’s preferred coping method.

But Jason, in particular, was bad. He was angry. Livid.

Jason hasn’t really treated Tim well since he came back. He attacked him at the tower. Avoided him like the plague anytime Junior presented. Part of that was protecting his own mental health. Junior’s laugh has only grown to be more like Joker’s as Tim has grown older. And Jason will hear that laugh in his nightmares forever.

Part of it, if Jason is being really honest with himself, is the monumental guilt he feels for hurting the kid. Junior doesn’t present every time Jason shows up, so he can assume the kid, for some reason, feels somewhat safe around him. Why, exactly, Jason couldn’t say.

Their work together since has been methodical. Efficient, effective, and with limited additional social interactions. Jason has crashed into Tim’s nest more than once for medical aid. Tim has always been helpful.

Jason closes his eyes and focuses on evening out his breathing. Tim is safe. He’s asleep down the hall. Everyone is home and safe. Jason needs to relax and make up for nearly four full nights without sleep.

He must drift off at some point because Jason dreams. He knows he’s dreaming, but that doesn’t make anything he sees less vivid.

Tim’s blood splattered across the metal table. The frayed and torn ropes still tied to the legs. The dead bodies littering the place, still warm to the touch.
Whoever took them out did so in a thorough and effective manner.
Snapped necks, severed spinal cords, stab wounds directly to the heart. None of the casualties suffered.

The scene in front of him shifts to the bodies he found at the edge of the Narrows. It is clear from their clothes that the victims weren’t from the neighborhood. Likely diamond district or Bristol folks. The bodies were taken out with the same lack of suffering as those at the warehouse. These bodies were staged, however.

Arranged in the broken windows of an abandoned shop front, they were meant to be seen. There is a message behind their deaths. Jason just doesn’t know what.

The scene shifts again and Jason’s blood runs cold. Joker’s laugh drifts around him, inescapable. The walls close in until Jason is once again trapped in his casket.

Jason twists and turns, trying to wake himself. A voice on the other side of the casket stops him.

It’s Tim.

“You showed up in a party city Robin suit to what? Beat the shit out of a child?” Tim scoffs. Jason lunges forward with his knife but Tim blocks him with his staff.
“You’re mad I’m Robin?” Tim asks, panting as he backs out of Jason’s reach. “Too bad. I’ve fought through too much to be here. I’m not giving it up because you don’t like it.”
Jason releases a frustrated yell and grabs the staff from Tim. The boy’s shocked face turns to anger as Jason begins hitting him with it.

Tim fights back like a street kid. Which shouldn’t happen. Tim is a Bristol boarding school brat. A deranged giggle accompanies every hit he lands.

“You’ve fucked up Hood.” Tim warns, ripping his staff back from Jason’s grip. “Leave, now. Before I become someone you really don’t want to meet.”
The emergency lights flash and Tim’s mouth stretches into a sickenly familiar smile. Jason’s eyes go green. He turns and runs. Laughter follows Jason down the hallway and Jason can’t escape. He can’t get away. He thrashes, his legs tangling in the blankets.

“Jason!” A voice grabs his attention. “Wake up!” It isn’t Joker. It isn’t Tim. It isn’t Bruce. Jason doesn’t know how to place it. A cup of water splashes Jason in the face which finally washes away the final dregs of his nightmare’s grip on his mind.

“Whuuu?” Jason mumbles groggily. Junior sits next to Jason on the bed, an empty cup in hand.
“Did you just dump water on me?” Jason asks, wiping his face on his stolen shirt. Junior grins. In the dim moonlight, his face looks skeletal. Jason gulps, trying not to react out of fear.
“Dude, you’re being creepy. Say something!” Jason demands, whipping the blankets off his legs to detangle them.

“Sorry Jason.” Junior says, and oh it was definitely a mistake to make the kid talk. His voice sounds far too much like Joker’s mixed with an undercurrent of the kid Jason hurt that night in the tower. He hadn’t run that night like he did in the dream. But he wishes he had.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Junior asks, sounding excited. Jason grunts, kinda wishing it was one of his other annoying siblings that woke him up. Junior stares at Jason, apparently waiting for him to elaborate.

“Yeah, kid. Nightmare.” Jason confirms, not wanting to give a lot of details. Junior nods, the motion solemn, but still grinning.
“Wanna talk about it?” Junior asks. His tone is kind. Jason sighs, turning onto his side so he doesn’t have to look at the kid’s creepy smile.

“Not really.” Jason admits. “But I’m guessin’ you want me to?”
Junior hums, and a small hand rubs a small comforting circle between his shoulder blades.
“If you want.” Junior says, voice small. “Or I can talk about what I do for nightmares.” He offers.
Jason rolls over to face Junior. The smile is gone. His little brows furrowed.
“If you want.” Jason repeats, whispering. Junior nods, folding his hands in lap primly.

“I try to remember the things I’ve done to make myself safer.” Junior starts, staring down at his lap. “Like killing Father.”

Jason freezes. He doesn’t breath. Tim didn’t kill Jack Drake. Jason knows this for a fact. So who the hell is the kid talking about?

“Father?” Jason whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. Junior locks eyes with Jason, expression intense.

“He hurt Tim which is how I got here. But he can never hurt Tim again. He can never hurt anyone again.” Junior says firmly, like he’s still justifying his choice to himself.
Jason reaches out a hand, palm up, and Junior takes it.

A set of footsteps in the hallway shatters the mournful silence they had settled in. Jason wants to freak out. A thirteen year old killed the Joker. He wants to know the details, if Bruce let it happen or tried to stop it. At the same time, Jason gets the feeling that he doesn’t want to watch anything to do with whatever brought Junior to the forefront for the first time.

“You’ll never have to worry about him again, Jason.” Junior promises. The door creaks open and Dick pops his head inside.

“May I join?” Dick stage-whispers. Jason shrugs and looks up at Junior. Junior squeezes his hand three times, like Bruce used to do to say I love you.

“Sure, Dickiebird.” Jason says, voice cracking. “Come join the party.”

Junior scooches over and Dick takes the other side of the bed. Junior is sandwiched between them. Sighing, Dick relaxes back against the headboard. Jason pulls the covers over himself and his brothers.

“I’m gonna get some sleep now. Don’t wake me before noon.” Jason says severely. Dick smiles and snuggles down into the covers. Junior reaches out and gives Jason’s hand one last squeeze. This time, when Jason closes his eyes, he dreams much nicer dreams.

*************************************************************************************************************

Junior had heard Jason crying out in his sleep. At first, he stood by and watched. He wanted to see if Tim could be harmed if he intervened. But Jason wasn’t armed. And he was suffering, and Junior doesn’t like it when people suffer.

So he helps Jason. He even opens up to Jason. Tim knows a lot about the man. Thinks that he’s usually safe. Junior trusts Tim’s judgement.

Jason was hurt by Father too. Junior knows this because Tim knows it. But Father cannot hurt any of them anymore.

Dick arrives and the moment to connect passes. Junior doesn’t mind. His brothers are nice, for the most part. But Dick can be sensitive. Junior has to walk carefully around him. He likes Tim better, and Junior knows it. He has to box off parts of himself around Dick, to hold himself back. Because he isn’t Tim. And he never will be.

Junior stays there, allowing his brothers to cuddle him, until both men fall asleep. Junior waits, watching until their chests rise and fall evenly. Junior slowly inches his way down, out of their grasp. He slips out from under the covers at the foot of the bed.

Junior has plans to accomplish. His work is not done. Tim had convinced Junior to return to the cave so their family wouldn’t worry. But his time is far from over here.

Silently, Junior creeps down the halls. He passes Alfred and Bruce having late night / extremely early morning tea. He passes the solarium, the library, the many living rooms and family rooms. Finally, his grand journey ends in the guest wing of Wayne Manor.

The sun is just peaking over the horizon as Junior arrives. Kon is awake, one of the benefits of being semi-solar powered. Junior slips into his friend’s room and plops down onto Kon’s bed.

“Junior!” Kon whispers, pulling the covers to cover his bare chest. Junior grins.
“Hello Kon.” Junior says, turning his face to only half smash into the pillow.
“What are you doing here?” Kon asks, tone slightly scandalized. Junior giggles.
“I’ve got a plan. Need your guys’ help.” He mutters, enjoying that his friend’s blush deepens the longer he stares at him.

“I’ll text the others.” Kon says. It’s only about a minute or two before Bart and Cassie arrive. Junior spends those minutes enjoying his view. Kon spends them getting up and throwing on a t-shirt.

His teammates enter Kon’s room silently and Junior feels a burst of pride at Tim’s teaching skills. His friends will protect Tim well.

“My plan requires each of you to participate. Perhaps others from the team.” Junior begins, tone and volume low. His friends snap to attention. They don’t know Junior quite as well as they do Tim, but they know him better than almost anyone.

“I’ll send along the exact details. But each of you will need to be ready to be in Gotham at a moment’s notice.” Junior instructs, handing each of them a small personalized list of tasks from his pocket. “Can I trust you all to follow through?”
His teammates nod, expressions serious.
“You got it Robin.” Kon says and Junior chuckles darkly. He hasn’t been Robin in a long time.

Without another word, Junior leaves them all in Kon’s room to discuss their tasks. He heads down to the cave, careful not to leave any trace of his presence for the day shift to find. Duke can be a great ally to have in your corner, but Junior needs him out of the loop on this one if his plan is to work.

Junior uses Tim’s login to the batcomputer to access the domino footage from Red Robin’s suit. He does whatever he can to corrupt the footage, to destroy it. Oracle likely hasn’t had time to do a full analysis yet, which means Junior’s plan can still work.

He’s taken out many of the Court of Owls in his four days of freedom. Junior tried to make it as humane as possible. He doesn’t take kindly to torture, afterall. Hits too close to home.
He did manage to find out that the court has plans for Damian, just like they did for Bruce Wayne. Junior will never let the court hurt his little brother. Even if that little brother made multiple attempts on Tim’s life. Admittedly, a few of them were kinda funny, even Tim thought so. But, alas, the court’s plan would hurt Damian which would hurt Tim. So Junior must eliminate the threat.
No one fucks with his family. No one.

Anyway, Junior destroys the domino footage. For good. No copies should remain. The footage should be unrecoverable.
Junior doesn’t want anyone else to see it. They might stop him from destroying the court, permanently.
They'll never hurt his family again.

Notes:

Dick, waking up in a cold sweat "My brothers...they need me!"
His little brothers : ??

Next chapters will include Damian and Junior's plan for destruction. Yay!!

Chapter 3: Wobbling on the Wire

Summary:

Damian demands answers.
Junior cleans house.
Tim's return is on the horizon.

Notes:

Content Warnings: Interrogation (light), LOTS of murder, explosions. This chapter is why I used the graphic depictions of violence warning!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Junior watches carefully as his family members grow more accustomed to his presence. There are flashes of Tim on occasion which seems to upset everyone when Junior returns. Like they’re trying to be disappointed.

It hurts. But Junior ignores it. He cannot allow it to disrupt his mission.

A few times he catches the new Robin peeking over his shoulder or prodding at his plans. Bruce has attempted to keep Junior confined to the manor and the cave, but since when has caging his children ever worked? Junior included.

Junior does keep his surveillance to nighttime, as a courtesy. Tim probably won’t want to present again as a person of interest in the murders of most of the city’s elite. So Junior ensures that he leaves no trace, no witnesses.

Robin is following Junior tonight, having appointed himself to be Junior’s supervisor / bodyguard. Junior doesn’t need one, but it’s nice to have company sometimes. It gets kind of lonely killing members of the Court of Owls one by one as they beg for mercy.

Junior is staging the bodies of his latest victims, including three talons, when Robin lands on the asphalt next to him.

“Yes?” He asks, hoisting a body into position. Robin broods silently. Junior grins. Painting a small purple smiley face on the grenade, he pulls the pin, holding the handle down.
“You should back up, blast radius on this thing is pretty extended.” Junior instructs. Robin backs away slowly until Junior gives him a nod.

Nonchalantly, Junior tosses the grenade into the storefront and runs right at Damian, tackling the boy to the ground as the fire roils above them. Junior lets out a celebratory cackle. Grinning, he turns to Robin to see the boy’s face devoid of any emotion.

“You didn’t have fun?” Junior asks. Robin nods hesitantly. Junior giggles, rolling off his little brother and offering him a hand. Robin takes it. Junior hauls the younger boy to his feet.

“Junior.” Robin says, pausing to clear his throat. “I require your assistance with something.” He pulls Junior along by the hand towards a zeta tube. Junior frowns.

From what he remembers from Tim, Damian is fiercely independent. Asking for help is out of character for him. But this is also a chance for Junior to spend some precious time with his little brother. Even Tim doesn’t spend as much time with their younger siblings as they wish they could. So Junior goes along with it.

Damian types in the code for the Kent farm and Junior’s frown deepens.
What could the Kents need help with that Damian couldn’t handle? Is Kon okay?

They step into the zeta and the bright flash transports them to Kansas. Junior blinks to focus his eyes and is tackled by a red and blue blur. Small disproportionally strong arms hold Junior’s arms behind his back. Jon may not have all his powers yet, but the boy is still a Kryptonian. 

“You’re gonna answer Dami’s questions and there won’t be any trouble, got it?” Jon growls into Junior’s ear. Junior laughs. His little brother’s boyfriend is very cute. All the supers get protective of their partners, but Jon is also the son of Lois Lane. Her devastating wit and indomitable influence are probably the bigger threats here.

“Is interrogating me really what you want to do?” Junior asks, amused. Damian huffs and crosses his arms, dragging them both out of the zeta tube platform and into the barn built to conceal it.
“Jonathan, you were supposed to wait until he protests. Not immediately detain him.” Damian complains. Junior hums sympathetically.
“Hard to get good help these days, isn’t it?” Junior says with a fake put-upon sigh.

Damian glares at Junior and Junior giggles.
“Just ask me your questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.” Junior offers, shrugging free of Jonathan’s hold. Jon looks at Junior in shock and Damian scoffs. Junior plops down where he stands, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the recently cleaned floor.

Cautiously, Damian and Jon join him on the floor. After a moment of silence, Damian takes a deep breath.
“Does Drake feel safe with me?” He asks quietly. Junior feels his heart twinge sympathetically.
“Yes.” He answers honestly. “Or I’d be out a lot more often.” Damian narrows his eyes at Junior before shooting a quick glance at Jon. Jon nods evenly. Ah, Superboy is here to make sure Junior is telling the truth, not just because he’s protective of his Robin.

Damian hums thoughtfully.
“How can I help Drake upon his return?” Damian asks. Junior takes a deep breath. His family expects Tim to always return. As much as it hurts, Junior understands. He’s meant to be a shield, he’s meant to be used. It is why he exists in the first place.

“He likes spending time with you.” Junior replies. “Maybe find something you could do together.”
Damian nods seriously, fingers twitching in the direction of his notebook in his utility belt. Junior stifles a smile at the idea of Damian taking notes about brotherly bonding. 

“Does Drake consider me a brother?” Damian asks, voice small. Junior nods. Jon confirms that his answer is true.

“Do you?” He asks and Junior pauses. Of course, he considers Damian his little brother. But what answer is Damian hoping for? What if he says yes and Damian is disgusted? Dick is already unnerved by Junior’s presence. Can he stand the loss of another brother? The rejection?

“Yes.” Junior admits, whispering. He stares at the floor beneath his feet. He does not want to see Damian’s reaction.

“What can I do to help you feel safe, Junior?” Damian asks next and his world tilts. Junior’s job is to make Tim feel safe. To protect his family. No one protects Junior. That’s not how this works.

“What?” Junior asks, confused. Damian raises a skeptical brow in his direction, visible even through his domino. Jon fidgets.
“What can I do to help you feel safe?” Damian repeats slowly, like Junior is less than intelligent.

Junior takes a deep breath and considers his answer.
“I…I don’t know. But I like that you’re asking.” Junior says, unable to truly give an answer. He has never even considered it.

“You’ve presented before, correct?” Damian asks, changing the subject. Thankfully, neither of the boys acknowledge the tears Junior brushes away. Junior nods.

“How does this differ from last time?” Damian asks, curiosity clear in his tone. Junior shrugs.
“Mostly that I have a mission before I let Tim take back over.” He adds.

“And what is that mission?” Damian prompts, leaning in. Junior grins.
“Destroy the Court of Owls. Prevent them from hurting my family again.” Junior answers, watching as both boys lean back at the news.

“And once you do so?” Damian questions after taking a moment to process. Junior hums thoughtfully. “Probably take out Ra’s al Ghul since he’s been bothering Tim. Then give over.”

Damian and Jon both stare at Junior, jaws dropped. Junior throws his head back with an enthusiastic cackle. “Don’t worry, Talia will take over.” He says, chuckling.
Damian turns to Jon, face pale. “He isn’t joking, is he?” Jon shakes his head.
Damian closes his eyes for a moment, thinking. Then he slips a dagger out from under his cape. It’s intricate and practical design screams that someone put a lot of thought and care into it’s creation.

“This is a weapon I made for Tim. But as you are also my brother, I see no reason to delay its presentation.” Damian says, voice wavering a little. Touched, Junior reaches out to take it reverently. This is the first gift he’s been given. Tim has gotten many, especially since he joined the Wayne household. But this one is being given to Junior, knowingly.

Thank you.” He whispers, clutching the blade to his chest. Damian nods awkwardly.
A creak in the wood catches Junior’s attention. He launches his new dagger through the wood of the old barn and into the chest of a talon without hesitation. The body thuds to the ground.

All three of them approach instantly. Jon has placed himself between Damian and the assassin. Junior plucks his blade from the man’s chest, the squelching sound of blood oozing from the wound echoes in his ears. He secures the dagger in his belt and reaches to pick up the body.

“Wait!” Jon says, placing a small hand on Junior’s elbow. “What are you gonna do with him?”

Junior chuckles darkly. If there is one thing he knows how to do, it is disappear a corpse.
What do the Waynes think happened to Jack and Janet Drake? Perhaps they truly don’t know, since Junior ensured that Tim doesn’t. Maybe they believed that Nightwing called in that favor. Maybe they bought that Captain Boomerang took them out. 

“I’ll handle the clean up. Get Robin back to the cave safely.” Junior instructs, using his best Red Robin voice. Both boys head for the platform. “I’ll take care of everything else.” He vows.

The sound of the zeta tube firing off, transporting the younger boys to safety, fills his ears. Junior knows what he must do. He must finish his mission. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Junior does not return to the cave after disposing of the Talon's body. In fact, this opportunity is as good as any to move up his timeline and execute his plans. He messages his teammates, asking them to make their way to Gotham ASAP. The Court will not live to see another sunrise in his city.

Junior stops by one of Tim's safe houses and pries up the floorboard near the foot of the bed. Junior removes a precisely folded plum suit, a styled electric green wig, and a palette of white face paint. He eases the floorboard back into place and sets about preparing for his best show yet.

Be careful, a voice in his head whispers.
“I will, Tim. I promise.” Junior responds aloud, fixing the smudge of white paint to lay more evenly on his cheekbones.

Smearing blood-red lipstick along the scars that pull at the corners of his mouth, Junior steps back and examines himself in the mirror. He is disheveled. He looks deranged. He looks homicidal.

Good, he thinks. It shall be their only warning.

A message from Cassie tells Junior that each of his friends are in position, even Pru. Junior gives himself an unnerving smile in the mirror and turns to leave back out the window. Tim's extra grappling gun and weapons make their way onto Junior’s person, along with the special dagger Damian gifted him.

The Court of Owls has a talon training facility not far from the diamond district. Junior has already attacked it once, but had to retreat when Red Hood got too close. Their headquarters isn't much further uptown. Just about a dozen blocks.

Junior swings through the air, laughing. Sunrise is about three hours out. But the time the sun touches Gotham, its skyline will be significantly changed.

His teammates have placed the explosives and evacuated the civilians. All he has to do is take out the Talons and blow up the court. Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

Love you, Tim's voice says, please don't die.

Junior grins excitedly. “Love you too.”

Junior lands outside the entrance to the training academy. The grand set of oak doors will serve as an excellent choke point.

“Oh hello there!” Junior calls out, waving at the cameras. “I believe you've been looking for the man that has been clipping your wings?”

Junior can hear the sound of movement inside. The scrape of the heavy metal bolts unlocking. Talons pour forward once the door opens but Junior doesn't waiver. Only a few can exit the doors at a time. Junior aims to kill, leaving nothing to chance. Once the Talons drop, they do not get back up again. Minutes turn to hours as his muscles burn, but Junior keeps hitting and dodging, stabbing and slashing to mortally wound.

Finally, as he stands drenched in sweat, panting, the last Talon falls. Muscle memory fucking rocks, Junior thinks. Tim agrees.

“Now to finish the job.” Junior says, shooting his grapple at the nearby rooftop. The mountain of bodies that he leaves behind sends its own message. Don't mess with the Waynes or the Bats.

Fuck with Junior’s family and you die.

Junior swings toward the court's headquarters, picking up a few shadows along the way. Batman, Black Bat, Nightwing, and Red Hood follow Junior at a distance. They don't engage, or try to stop him. Which Junior appreciates. They keep their distance when he makes his grand entrance as well, which is really for the best. 

He crashes through the floor to ceiling glass windows of the Court's penthouse headquarters. Junior surmises that they installed them to survey all of Gotham. He giggles to himself as he stands up amongst the shards.

“Great view, but terrible security.” Junior says, nudging the baffled man in suit with his elbow. The man's feathered mask sits askew on his face. There are small pieces of glass in his hair. 

Junior stalks around the room, gauging the people at the table. Most of them are corrupt members of the upper crust who believe they know what is best for everyone in the city. They play with people's lives, sacrificing them like pawns. Devaluing humanity. It makes Junior’s blood boil.

He slams the severed hand of the Talon trainer onto the table with a thump.
“Your cannon fodder will not be coming, I'm afraid.” Junior says, seething. Several of the men and women at the table gulp in fear, others make for the large black double doors across the room. The doors are locked. And soon they all realize what Junior already knows, they are trapped.

“What do you want?” A woman asks, clearly trying to bargain for her life. But Junior doesn't bargain. He smiles, gesturing for the rest of the panicked one percenters to take their seats once more.

“I want…to make my city safe.” Junior begins, holding up a hand to stop the woman from interjecting. “From folks like you who see the poor as a resource to sacrifice.”

Junior slowly makes eye contact with each of them, moving on only when he knows that they realize he is entirely serious.
“You target children. You threaten to take them from their families. To harm them.”

“It's for the greater good!” A man protests. Junior cuts him off by slamming his fists on the table. “You torture them!” He growls out, furious. Junior is shaking with rage, his vision turning red.

“No child deserves to be tortured.” Junior says low and tense. “It does not do good.”

“You're insane.” Says a woman on his right. Junior giggles, letting it build into a chuckle, then a guffaw, and finally, as he heaves for breath, he cackles.

No shit.” Junior quips after catching his breath, clicking his staff to expand it. “Now, who would like to die first?”

Several of the people scream, many press their panic buttons to summon Talons who will never arrive, and one brave yet idiotic man throws a punch. Junior catches his fist and twists, cracking his arm.

The man screams, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain. Junior stares at him, waiting for the right moment. As soon as he turns to expose his temple just enough, Junior hits it with a sharp smack of his staff. The man dies instantly.

Turning back toward the twenty three members left in front of him, Junior smiles.
Once he has finished his mission, Tim and his loved ones will be safe forever. Talia has confirmed she's overtaken Ra's herself, without Junior’s assistance.
Take twenty three more lives and Junior can retire, forever.

Ready to be done, Junior swipes forward, snapping the neck of a woman. Another man lunges for Junior, but he dodges, throwing the limp woman's body at the man. Twenty two to go.

“Be glad I got here first, Nightwing would rend you limb from limb.” Junior sneers, tearing off a man’s arm and beating him with it. “I, however, will show mercy and eventually kill you. He would never give mercy to a man who threatened his Robin.”

The rest of the room goes by in a blur. Twenty one to go. Twenty.
Some screams and Junior’s vision is all scarlet. When he comes to, there is one woman left, crawling towards the hole in the window Junior made when he entered.

Junior takes his dagger and slices her in the neck, severing her brain stem. The life leaves her eyes swiftly.

Junior surveys the room and makes sure no one is left suffering. Then he arms his pack of explosives. He sets it carefully in the center of the long table. His will ignite the domino effect, taking out the entire building.

News will spread. Don't fuck with the bats.

Junior registers a few injuries as he watches his counter begin to tick down. Scrapes and cuts, a broken hand. But nothing he hasn't endured before.

A dark shape hovers outside the broken windows.

“Yo, Junior, what are ya doing?” Kon asks, concerned painted all over his face. “You gotta go, this place is gonna blow.”

Junior giggles. “That rhymed.” He says, still staring at the bomb. As it hits sixty seconds, Junior turns sharply on his heel, heading over to the hole in the glass, and shoots his grapple gun into the air.

Junior swings away, with Kon trailing him, as dawn breaks over the horizon. The bombs begin to go off behind them but Junior doesn't look back. His mission to ensure Tim is safe is complete. He heads home.

Landing in the outskirts of Bristol, Junior can feel Tim pushing forward a bit. Junior lets him. They have a moment at the forefront of their shared mind. Tim thanks him. Junior beams.

Kon is still walking Junior home, his protective presence constantly hovering over Junior’s shoulder. Junior can feel the insistent fuzzy sensation of a TTK shield surrounding him. Tim promises that this is not a threat. So Junior allows it.

Finally, they arrive at the back entrance of the batcave, hidden in the woods surrounding the neighborhood. Kon’s head tilts to the side, and reluctantly, his TTK pulls back.

“I gotta go. Kara needs me. But you'll take care of yourself, won't you Junior?” Kon says, worrying his lip. Junior smiles.
“Tim will take care of me.” Junior answers, wrapping Kon into a quick hug.
Kon whispers a soft goodbye before flying away.

Junior clambers down into the rock outcropping, slipping behind a boulder. He slides into the tunnel and inputs his code. The security system beeps and Junior makes his way down the tunnel to the cave. Time to rest

Notes:

So Junior went off a little bit in this one, oops! But hey, none of the bats can say he wasn't thorough.
Also Tim is going to have to grapple with the actions his protector took while he was away in the next chapter so please read the tags as I will update them to reflect the content warnings!!

Chapter 4: Letting Go

Summary:

The family, Tim included, reckon with Junior's choices.
It goes...poorly.

Notes:

Content Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Self-Harm, destructive self-talk, depression, and extremely low self-esteem.
If any of these things might trigger you or set you off in any way, please click away now. Your mental health is not worth it.

Also, sorry for the wait for the final chapter, I got the flu. It sucks. :/

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

For the second time in as many weeks, Junior returns to the cave covered in blood. His green wig is brown and crusted by the time they manage to work it off his head. Junior’s overall demeanor doesn’t help quell their panic, he just sits on the edge of his cot in the medbay, staring at the wall in front of him.

Duke knows he shouldn’t freak out, Tim would hate it if he did, but he wasn’t here the first time things went south enough to bring about Junior’s presence. Hell, he wasn’t even aware of Junior until after Junior took out the Joker cult creeps that put his parents into a coma. Duke had tried to thank Tim his first month in the manor but Tim fled the conversation first chance he got.

Now Duke watches as Tim / Junior, or maybe there’s a third person in there, stares blankly ahead as Dr. Leslie and Alfred treat his various wounds and reopened sutures. Nothing shakes him out of his non-responsive state. Not Dick. Not Jason. Not Damian. Not Cass. Not Steph. Not even when Duke tells him about his plans for their next D&D session. Nothing. No reaction at all.

Finally, once they’ve all tried to bring Tim or Junior or someone to the forefront, Bruce shoos them all out. Some of the night shift set back out on patrol, not that anyone expects any rogues to attack the power vacuum of the Court imminently. It won’t be long before they return.

Duke heads upstairs to his room in the Manor. He’s been keeping in contact with Izzy while she’s out of the country over email, so Duke drafts his thoughts to her. He can’t send it, not without changing multiple details and getting Tim’s permission, but he types it out anyway. It helps, a bit. But Duke just wants to talk tricks at the skatepark with his brother. Wants to geek out over the so-bad-its-good movie marathon playing at the cineplex near Tim’s nest with the sibling who would watch the whole thing with him.

A sharp knock on his door pulls him away from the email, which Duke quickly trashes just in case. “Come in!” Duke calls, turning in his desk chair. The door opens to reveal Damian, looking very much his own age, for once.

“I require your presence. We are meeting in the family room near the library to go over our support plan.” Damian informs him.
Duke frowns. “Support plan?” Damian nods curtly.
“Yes, to ensure both Tim and Junior feel safe with us all.” He says like it’s obvious. Maybe it is.

Duke’s face breaks into a small smile. He grabs the file he started back when Junior presented the first time after Duke moved in. Damian has a file too, clutched tightly in his hand. Duke has a sneaking suspicion that they all have their own files to bring to the metaphorical, or in this case literal, table.

*************************************************************************************************************

Frustrated, Tim punches the desk holding the batcomputer. The domino footage of his torture is gone. Oracle can’t find it. Tim can’t find it. It is gone.

Sighing, Tim tries to focus his brain on what he does know for certain. He was abducted fifteen days ago. Tortured for some period of time before Junior took over. Tim normally watches Junior’s actions like an out of body experience. But this time was different.

People died. Tim knows that for certain too. He’s seen Jason’s case report. What Junior did for four days in the cut apart remains of his Red Robin suit, Tim can only guess. There are a few clues gathered by his family, but the only thing he’s able to deduce is that it all goes back to the Court of Owls.

But Tim already knows that whatever this was revolves around the Court of Owls! He knows because he’s seen everyone’s cowl and domino footage of Junior’s attack on their penthouse HQ. Junior’s perspective is conspicuously missing. Another excellent fact for Tim’s little list.

“You really should be resting.” A soft voice calls from behind Tim. Tim scoffs, continuing to pull up reports from his missing time to attempt to gather more information.
“I’m fine.” He grits out. A derisive sigh makes Tim pause. Disappointing Alfred sucks.

“Look, I won’t be able to sleep not knowing what he - I - did. Okay? So there is no point in resting.” Tim mutters, avoiding Alfred’s expression. The tell-tale scuff of a chair being pulled close tells Tim that he is not going to win this argument easily.

“You were tortured.” Alfred begins, holding out his hands for Tim to take. Tim does.
“Your wrist is broken in three places. One of the fractures indicates that you ripped yourself free.” Alfred continues. “Similar stress fractures were present on both ankles.”
Alfred’s calm weathered hands slide up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, around the cast on his left wrist.
“You were cut. By Talon blades. And other weapons.”
His hands hover just to the sides of Tim’s face.
“But you are alive. And you came home to us.” Alfred says, tears welling up now. Tim leans forward slightly, resting his face in his grandfather’s hold.

“I thought we had lost you again.” Alfred says, voicing just barely wobbling. “Please, always come back to us.” Tim lets a few tears fall. Alfred catches them, like he always will.
“I’ll try.” Tim promises. It’s all he can do.

Alfred takes his leave then. Probably to cry his manly tears in peace. So Tim goes back to listing what he knows.

Junior took over and returned, the first time, after about four days. No one knows exactly where he went and what he did. Except the trail of bodies he left behind.
After that point, Junior stayed for approximately ten days, rounding up. Which means that Tim Drake hasn’t been seen in two weeks. The tabloids are going to have a field day!
Junior destroyed the Court of Owls. Killed all the Talons. The instructors. The Benefactors.
More blood on Tim’s hands.

Tim giggles, beside himself with grief. How many does that make now? Blowing up the league bases put his kill count pretty high. But somehow, this feels worse. More personal.
Like when he realized he killed the Joker. Or Junior did. Whatever.

Tim’s body, his responsibility. His therapist says he’s being unfair to himself but Tim thinks it’s a pretty solid rule.

Tim thinks back to when Junior let him share their mind for a bit. Kon was there. Which means he’s met Junior. Probably the rest of the team too, since Bruce called them in to search. Wouldn’t be the first time, but the longest Junior has been out around his friends. Especially without Tim there to see it. When he’s out of his body, Tim can’t do anything about Junior’s choices but at least he’s kept informed. This time feels different. It feels worse.

Feeling powerless, Tim does what he can do. He sets up an emergency therapy session for the next business day. Emails Lucius and Tam saying he’ll be back in the office Monday for their quarterly board meeting. Sends out a general information request to his friends, including Pru, for their reports on what Junior got up to in his body.

Tim likes Junior, he does. His friend has been in his head for six years now. Tim cannot remember what it was like before. What he doesn’t like is being a murderer. Tim will kill when a situation calls for it, but Tim and Junior have different bars for what qualifies as necessary.

The Court of Owls are a thorn in their side, sure.
But what would make Junior go after them so thoroughly?
They weren’t targeting Tim specifically, to Tim’s knowledge.
Why them? Why now? Why do it with such secrecy?

Tim remembers something else in his listing of facts. The ornate dagger found on his person. Tim heads back over to Junior’s belongings. The bloodstained suit, the discolored wig, the weapons. The dagger sits atop, gleaming in the dim light.

Examining it, Tim lifts it up. Sleek and detailed, the hilt is slim but practical. The blade is well balanced and sharp. The engraved detail on the grip looks familiar, like one of Damian’s sketches.

A figurative lightbulb goes off in Tim’s head. Damian made this blade. He gifted it to Junior, for some reason. He must have interacted with Tim’s alter at some point.

Trudging upstairs, Tim heads straight to his youngest brother’s room. It’s empty, except for the bird he’s hiding in there. Tim gives her a few treats from the stash he pretends to not know about and leaves. Duke’s door catches his eye. It stands ajar. His room is empty too.

Curious, he thinks. The sound of quiet chatter down the hall catches his attention. Low rumblings of Duke and, maybe, Jason? Tim eases carefully towards the family room. Standing outside the doorway, just out of sight, he listens.

“So we’re agreed? We all do these tasks to ensure that both Tim and Junior feel safe in the Manor.” Damian says sternly. A chorus of “Agreed!” follows. Tim stifles a giggle. His laugh still sounds like Junior. It will for weeks. Tim just has to live with it.

Stepping forward and into the view of the room’s occupants, Tim smiles. The room quiets.
“Hey Timmy!” Dick says, a little wary. “You you again?” Tim nods slowly.
He raises the dagger so everyone can see it. Everyone gasps except Damian, who looks down awkwardly.

“I’d like to speak with Damian about this, please. Alone.” Tim says, voice hoarse. Junior must have laughed a lot of late. The others go, each of them hugging Tim as they depart. Bruce ruffles Tim’s hair in a way he loves, because it reminds him of the first few months he spent with the Waynes way back when.

Once they leave, Tim settles on the couch, gesturing for Damian to join him.
“Did you make this for me?” Tim asks gently. Damian huffs, crossing his arms.
“Yes. I gifted it to Junior since he is my brother too.” Damian drawls, like Tim is being dense.
Tim bites back a smile. “Thank you. It is beautiful.” He says. Damian peers up at Tim, eyes wet.
“Are you going to be okay?” Damian whispers, eyes widening like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Tim lets his smile show now, wrapping his free arm around his brother.
“I’m going to try.” Tim promises, pulling him into a hug.
Damian squeezes Tim back, releasing him quickly, then extracts himself from the couch gracefully.

“I am going to bed. Rest is imperative for a healthy well-disciplined body.” Damian says stiffly.

Tim chuckles. “Goodnight, Damian.” Damian turns swiftly on his heel and heads out.

Playing with the dagger in his hands, Tim heads to his room.
It appears to be relatively untouched. Before the incident, Tim hadn’t spent most nights in the manor. He spent almost every evening back at his nest, overworking or reopening old cases.

Tim sets the dagger down on his desk. This one uncluttered, a marker of how little time he was spending here. Turning down the covers, Tim lays down. His pillow is suspiciously lumpy. Reaching a hand beneath it, cold metal touches his fingers.

Tim sits up, lifting the pillow to find a gun. A fucking revolver under his pillow.
“Holy shit, is this loaded?” Tim mutters, incredulous. What the fuck Junior. What the actual fuck.

Tim unloads the gun. Storing the ammunition in a separate drawer. It is as close to safe storage as he can get right now, unless he wants to enter Bruce’s room with a gun in the middle of the night. Picturing Bruce’s startled and concerned reaction causes Tim to let out a cackle. It sounds like Father. Tim slaps a hand over his own mouth and shoves the gun away.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. No way. Not gonna touch those feelings with a ten foot pole.

Tim does his best compartmentalizing and tucks those away to handle another day. Right now, he needs sleep. Tim throws his pillow back down, a bit more forcibly than necessary. He lays back down and forces himself to meditate, slowing his heart rate and calming his mind.
Sleep, he urges his brain. Blessedly, it obeys.

*************************************************************************************************************

Three weeks of intensive therapy, broken up by the occasional board meeting for WE, and Tim’s laugh almost sounds like his own again. Almost. The team has tried to visit, but Tim asked them all for space. He hates that he’s pushing them all away but he’s vulnerable and scared. He doesn't want them to see just how much he's struggling to piece his life back together. 

Every session of cognitive behavioral therapy or EMDR, Tim feels. He relives. He remembers. The blood, the pleas for mercy, the sound of tearing flesh, and the hollow snap of breaking bones.

Tim is sitting in on a board meeting now, the matter at hand some tedious profit report. Tim doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want this job. He doesn’t want this life.

Tim taps his pen on the pad in front of him, bored out of his mind.
The suit presenting the slides at the front of the room freezes, narrowing his eyes at the teen CEO. “Are we boring you?” He asks snidely.

Tim scoffs, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in his honest response.
“Apologies, go on.” He says instead. The man’s face sours.
“Is tripling our profits not interesting enough to hold your attention?” The man asks, goading Tim again.

Tim smirks. “No. You just proposed outsourcing our labor, going back on our deal with the Mayor.” He corrects. "Which would render our deal null and void, destroying our profit margin."

The man stands still, gaping at Tim. His face twists.

“ The cost would make itself worth it long term. Not all of us can be nepo babies in daddy’s company, some of us have to work for a living.” The man practically spits. “You have no idea what it takes to run a business.”

The words hit close to home. Too similar to what his parents used to say. The pen in Tim’s hand snaps in half.

Tim stands slowly. Most of the more experienced board members are already packing up their belongings, recognizing where this whole interaction is going.
“What. Did. You. Say.” Tim growls. His voice waivers toward Junior’s and, despite himself, he flinches. “OUT.” He bellows.

The suits flee the room as the giggles begin to spill. Tim bites his lip so hard it bleeds and the taste of blood brings out a cackle. Presentation guy cries out in fear and runs into the doorframe before fumbling his way out into the hallway.

“Tim?” Tam calls, peeking her head inside. She sees Tim, hands slapped over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the laugh, blood dripping down his chin. “Lucius!” She yells out into the hallway, giving Tim a sympathetic look. Tim feels the tears brimming in his eyes. In a matter of moments, the reputation he’s spent a lifetime building has come crashing to the ground.

He’s supposed to be professional. He’s supposed to be in control. He’s supposed to be a Drake.

Sobbing, Tim crashes back down into his seat. Tearing at his hair, the pain grounds him. Junior doesn’t try to present. Just his laugh. Just when Tim thought he was in the clear.

Lucius enters the room and Tim tenses. “I’m going to call Bruce.” Is all he says before turning tail and fleeing out to the hall again.

The minutes feel like hours until Bruce comes careening into the boardroom. He calms Tim down with a special breathing exercise, just enough to loosen the tight grip of guilt and shame making it impossible to breathe. Bruce handles the board, with Tam’s help, some of whom are still in the hallway. And Lucius gets Tim out of the building and into a taxi to his nest without being seen.

It doesn’t matter, Tim thinks. The tabloids will be all about it tomorrow.
‘Exclusive: Tim Drake’s boardroom breakdown, shareholder speaks out!’
Tim can see the headlines now.

When he gets to his nest, Tim locks it down. He locks the weapons away. Trashes any alcohol or drugs he has in the place, evidence in a case or not. He fucked up. But he can still do something. Tim forces on his spare Red Robin uniform. The one that pinches and pulls. He deserves to be uncomfortable. 

Tim cannot afford to lose control. He cannot slip. He has a reputation to maintain.

Tim has already disappointed everyone once. The boardroom incident will be bad, but if he stays off the radar for a while, and focuses on fixing things with Red Robin, maybe he could get lucky and the news cycle will pick up some other incident and move on. But Tim has never been lucky.

Tim could pay Kon to arrange a Lex Luthor blooper to be perfectly caught on camera. But then Tim would have to explain to Kon what happened. Shame roils in his gut and Tim axes that plan immediately. Would Kon care? Absolutely not. But Tim does

So Tim will just have to ride this out. He'll work on Red Robin. Tim Drake will just have to deal. He'll work from home. Or have Bruce take over or something. Anything. 

Tim just has to stop making everything worse. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Tim's week has sucked. His boardroom breakdown is still fucking trending. He's had to decline hangouts with Bart, Cassie, and Kon. Tim can't stand to look them in the eye. He read their reports on Junior’s escapades, and boy oh boy did Junior get up to so much shit. No wonder his contacts in the Narrows have been running as soon as they see him coming.

A few idiots have tried to test their mettle against the new 'crazy red'. Tim has had to detain several deranged, unusually strapped, idiots who have tried to make a name for themselves.

Red Robin’s reputation: ruined.
Tim Drake's reputation: ruined.
Junior: fucking unresponsive and unhelpful.

Tim dangles his legs off the roof. His therapist's words from their session this afternoon swirl around in his head.
“The only thing you can control is yourself.”
But Tim can’t control himself. He couldn't control the laughter. He can't control Junior. He can’t handle his life. He can't handle his bullshit. He can’t even get his brain to agree that he’s himself.

If Tim had just been strong enough to handle it, then none of this ever would have happened. Junior wouldn't exist. The last of Drakes’ reputation wouldn't be in the toilet. WE stock wouldn't be down.

But Father would be alive. And hurting people. A voice insists.

Tim sighs. The voice is right. Joker being dead is a net good in all this. Maybe that's all Tim is good for, getting pushed too far and killing people.

So what if he is being a bit reckless with handling the idiots? What's it matter if he gets hurt? Tim deserves it, doesn't he?

He is supposed to maintain control. He failed.

He is supposed to decrease stress. Well he's cut out WE work and he still can't sleep. Chalk that up to strike two.

He is supposed to be okay now. For Alfred. For Damian. For Junior.
Strike three. Tim’s out.

Absent-mindedly, Tim leans forward on the roof ledge. Part of him wants to let go, to topple off and just fall. What will it matter? If he's gone, what's the net loss? One less burden on his friends and family.

Tim digs his palms into the roof edge, knuckles white.

A soft crunch of boots landing behind Tim stops his thoughts in its tracks.

“Replacement.” The voice growls through the voice modulator. “Why don't ya scooch back a bit?”

Tim scoffs. The wind ruffles his hair and catches his suit a little.

“Why don’t you finish the job?” Tim snaps. “C'mon Hood. Just do the world a favor.”

Jason takes a step forward, Tim leans another inch towards the drop.

Jason's footsteps halt.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks gently. Tim shakes his head vehemently.
He doesn't. God, he doesn't. He just wants this feeling of powerlessness to stop.

Arms straining now, Tim leans forward more. He wants to. He does. Doesn't he?
This is how he can be useful. This is how he can feel in control again. He just has to let go.

“Okay, Babybird, I know this sucks but you don't have to go splat on us.” Jason’s voice says. He's taken the helmet off, Tim notes. “Why don't we get you off the edge and give Dinah a call? How does that sound?”

Tim shakes, a sob escapes. He doesn't want to tell Dinah. He doesn't want anyone to know just how badly he's handled this. Junior did him a favor, being strong. Tim shoulda pulled the trigger like he did all those years ago. Maybe that's why there was a revolver under his pillow. Tim should have taken the shot when he had the chance.

Distantly, Tim notices some chatter on the comms. Panicked voices. But he can't make himself listen.

“Just let me die. It'll be easier.” Tim whispers, words whipped away from him by the wind. “Please, Jason.”

Tim loosens a few fingers in punishment.
He broke a rule, no names in the field. He should know better.

The panicked voices get louder. Jason says something but it is blocked by the static feeling overwhelming Tim’s body. His ears are ringing. His arms are going to give out any second now. Tim is going to fall. He should be terrified, but instead he feels nothing but hollow.

Tim turns his head to face Jason, a smile on his lips, and lets go.

Tim's fall is cut short, dramatically so, by Robin swinging through on a grapple. Robin clutches Tim tightly, refusing to let him go.

“You promised.” Damian whispers to Tim when they land.

“I tried.” Tim says, collapsing down. Robin shoves a shoulder under his armpit to hold some of his weight. Red Hood quickly joins them street-side, slipping an arm around Tim as well.

“You're not getting away from us that easily, BabyBird.” Jason says, tone joking but with an undercurrent of distress.

More bats are coming. This is not a struggle Tim will fight alone. Exhausted, Tim lets himself be held. He lets himself trust that his loved ones are here because they want to be. Not because they feel obligated or need Tim to live.

“I've ruined everything.” Tim cries. His brothers squeeze him tighter.
“No.” Says Batman, strong and sure. “You need to focus on protecting yourself, not everybody else, Tim.”

Tim didn't even notice Batman landing in the alley. Another thing he's failed, his brain points out. 

“But the company!” Tim says before he registers that Batman just said his name in the field. “Your reputation– bats don't kill.” Tim deflects.
Two very unimpressed huffs sound from either side of him.

“My parents would be so disappointed. They’d be disgusted.” Tim insists. He’s trying to convince more than just his family around him. If he can get them to understand, maybe his brain will stop screaming that he needs to be punished for failing at killing himself.

“No one is disappointed in you.” Batman responds, tone kind. “We love you.”
Batman’s lips quick up, just at the edges.
“The company will be fine. The bats will be fine. Our priority is you.”

Tim swallows the lump in his throat. This can't be right. Jack and Janet would never.
But this isn't the Drakes. This is the Waynes. The family that took him in when he was most broken. That loved him. All parts of him.

Maybe… maybe it's safe to let them in. He's heard those words before. Way back when. And Bruce had meant them then. Maybe he means them now too. 

Junior’s laugh echoes in Tim’s head.
Of course its safe!” Junior says to Tim. “I wouldn't have left you there if it wasn’t.”

Tim lets himself be held. Even when Dick arrives with his Nightwing domino askew and wraps him in the octopus hug to end all octopus hugs. Even when Black Bat and Spoiler arrive, crushing Tim further.

Maybe Tim is okay, even if his life is spiraling out of control. Maybe… maybe there’s something worth living for.

Tim lets himself fall apart, trusting his loved ones to catch him.

Notes:

Thank you all who went along this ride with me!!
I think I'm going to take a break from writing angst for a hot minute, for my own mental health lol

Notes:

Thank you for reading!! Kudos and kind comments are greatly appreciated :)))
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Series this work belongs to: