Chapter Text
Tim had a brilliant mind.
He had been praised for his brain since he was young. He was bright, creative, thoughtful and inquisitive. For as long as he can remember, he always had a head full of ideas, whizzing around at speeds that would make other people dizzy, but he was able to perfectly sift through and categorise each thought, organising his internal universe with colour coded files and alphabetised drawers.
And, when you have so many ideas, they need somewhere to go. So, as any child would, Tim expressed his ideas verbally.
Tim could talk for all of New Jersey, and then some. He could talk for hours. It truly was a talent. He would speak for as long as anyone let him, even if it meant talking until his voice went hoarse. He loved it, especially when people would actually listen and engage with whatever he was talking about. They didn’t have to understand it perfectly, just ask some questions about the subject and give their own thoughts and opinions if they could.
So, it was pretty unfortunate for Tim that people weren’t interested in what he had to say.
He got shut down pretty much any route he turned. Whether that be his parents, his teachers, his classmates, even strangers sometimes. The comments haunted him.
“Okay, Tim I don’t have time for this, can you go do something else?”
“That’s enough Tim, we need to move on now.”
“Dude, can you shut up for like, two minutes?”
“What are you even going on about? No one cares.”
“Try and stay on topic, Tim.”
“Keep your damn mouth shut!”
As a result, Tim learned to do just that. He became quieter, shortening his sentences and learning how to blend into the crowd, following along with other people’s conversations. Instead of joining in, giving his own views, he would nod and smile politely, biting his tongue so hard he could taste blood.
That didn’t stop his mind, though. He would still think. One thought would plant a seed, growing a tree that would branch off in many different directions. He would dance along the branches, externally silent but internally musing, seeing new flowers bloom and breathing in their scent. He wandered through the forest of his imagination, investigating every turn and marking trails so he could find his way back to wherever he needed. It wasn’t as nice as being able to express himself, but he did his best to not let his inner world be limited by the lack of an outlet.
When he eventually became part of the Wayne family and took on the Robin mantle, Dick really made the effort to get to know Tim and bring him out of his shell. It took time, but Tim began to grow more comfortable expressing his thoughts and sharing his ideas. It was an essential part of his role; one of his outlandish musings might just be exactly what was needed to crack a case they were working on. The best detectives leave no stones unturned, and that's precisely what Tim was best at.
He was really able to come into his own as Robin, growing in his confidence, and learning that actually, there were people who would listen to his ideas. There were people who would engage with him and be curious rather than irritated. There were people who accepted him unconditionally, just the way he was.
…Or so he thought.
Apparently Bruce and Dick were just too nice to say it to his face.
He had been on patrol when it happened. Dick was helping out in Gotham for a few days, and the three of them had split up to cover more ground, and Tim was running across the rooftops when he heard Dick’s voice crackle over the comms.
“Oracle, can you switch me and Batman to another line?”
“On it Nightwing.”
That, on its own, was normal enough. Any one of them would ask to be switched to a private line with another person for a multitude of reasons. That wasn’t cause for concern. But what he heard next was.
“Nightwing.”
Ah, it seems Barbara had accidentally switched all three of them to another line. Tim had been planning on just switching off his comms to respect Dick’s wish for privacy, his hand just inches away from his ear, but he stopped mid-motion at Dick’s reply.
“All good. Just wanted to ask how Robin was getting on.”
Well, they were talking about him. Didn’t he have a right to listen to this? Maybe Tim could just listen in for a little bit. It isn’t like anyone would know. No harm no foul, right?
“Fine. He learns fast.”
Tim couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face. That was extremely high praise coming from the Batman. Dick hums in response.
“You’re not saying something.”
A few beats of silence go by before Bruce sighs, followed by,
“He’s… talkative.”
Tim freezes mid-run.
Talkative.
Okay, talkative on its own isn’t a bad thing. It just means that he talks more than other people. That’s okay. That’s okay-
“Haha, yeah that’s one way of putting it.”
…
How would Dick put it?
Tim feels his chest start to tighten, his breath coming in shorter and faster. He sits down on the roof top he was on, listening closely.
“I wonder if it will land him in trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“He doesn’t always realise when to stop.”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s… not ideal.”
Tim swears he felt his heart stop.
Not ideal.
The fact that Tim is talkative is not ideal.
Which means, it’s not ideal for Robin to be talkative.
Which, Tim supposes, does make some sense. Robin needs to be focused, disciplined. If he’s constantly blabbering about whatever pops into his head, then Robin will be a liability on the field. He gets that. He does.
But it doesn’t stop those past voices coming back to him.
“Okay, Tim I don’t have time for this, can you go do something else?”
“That’s enough Tim, we need to move on now.”
“Dude, can you shut up for like, two minutes?”
“What are you even going on about? No one cares.”
“Try and stay on topic, Tim.”
“Keep your damn mouth shut!”
“It’s… not ideal.”
Tim tries to take deep breaths. He can work on it. He can fix it. He can-
“I see where you’re coming from. He can be a bit much sometimes.”
“Too much.”
Tim freezes once more, breath caught in his throat.
He’s too much.
That’s the final nail in the coffin for Tim.
Bruce’s emotionless delivery and the hum of agreement Dick gives after ringing loud and clear in his ears.
He’s too much.
He only realises he stopped breathing entirely when his body forces him to gasp for air. He takes some time to get his breath under control, before wiping his eyes, blurred for some reason he doesn’t bother to name. He slowly comes to a stand, looking out at the moon as it shines above Gotham.
He’s too much.
He’s too much for Nightwing. He’s too much for Batman. He’s too much for the Waynes. He’s too much for Robin.
Okay.
Tim Drake is too much?
Fine.
He will be less.
If it means he gets to keep his family.
He will be less.
He nods to himself, before resuming his travels across Gotham’s rooftops, mouth firmly shut.
Tim begins to shrink himself in stages.
He starts by shortening his sentences. Analysing questions and prioritising only the most important and relevant information.
“Any plans for the weekend?”
“Doing homework.”
“Anything to note from patrol?”
“In the report.”
“What would you like for dinner?”
“No preference.”
Where he used to explain what the homework task was and complain about his teachers, give detailed notes about the new birds nest he saw in a tree at the park from patrol, would debate the merits of mash over jacket potatoes, he simply left an empty void.
Next, he replaced verbal words with sounds or body signals.
Humming his approval or disagreement.
Nodding or shaking his head.
A thumbs up here or a shrug there.
Anything to make sure he dropped as many words as possible. He wasn’t sure what qualified as an appropriate amount of talking, so he went with the most sensible solution: talk as little as possible.
After, he removed obligations for the others to talk to him.
He politely declined offers to stay at the manor.
He hung out with Dick less outside of patrol.
He would hide away in his room, only coming out when he knew Bruce was working in his office or Alfred was busy elsewhere and he wouldn’t run into them.
Dodged meal times as much as he could. On the occasions he was unable to, he only smiled and nodded along to what the others said.
He became a master of fading into the background, blending in with the room. It had gotten to the point where the others would frequently forget he was even there, becoming startled when they looked over in his direction or at the sound of Tim’s footsteps.
Tim was certain there was no way he could possibly be too much now.
Dick noticed it first.
Or, he was the first to say anything about it to Tim, at least.
“Hey baby bird, you’ve been quiet recently. Is everything alright?”
Tim smiled.
“Yes, fine.”
Tim turns back to his computer as if that was the end of the conversation. Dick presses.
“Are you sure?”
Tim hums the affirmative.
Dick bites the inside of his cheek. His gut instinct is to try and get more information out of Tim, knowing this isn’t typical of him to do. But if Tim isn’t going to talk, then there isn’t anything Dick can do. He sighs, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder.
“Alright, alright. But if you need anything, you know you can talk to me, yeah?”
Tim nods, and Dick smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
When Dick walks away, Tim smiles to himself.
Dick was clearly testing him, seeing if he would break and start talking too much again. But Tim knew better than that. He wouldn’t fall for such an easy trick. He would keep quiet.
He wouldn’t be too much.
Never again.
Jason had no fucking idea how he ended up here.
He woke up with a groan, his head pounding like a drumset. He slowly lifts his head and takes a quick scan of his surroundings. He is bound to a chair, arms behind his back, and his legs tied to those of the chair. He is missing his tool belt and helmet, but the feeling of cosmetic glue on his face tells him his domino mask is still in place. There is one door behind him, no windows, and a single shitty lightbulb barely illuminating the small space.
And right in front of him is good old Replacement.
Jason fights the urge to roll his eyes. The kid is in civvies, meaning he was probably kidnapped for some kind of ransom. He’s chained with his arms above his head, feet just barely touching the floor. He’s still out cold. It gives Jason some information about his kidnappers.
But it doesn’t tell Jason anything about why he’s here. He had been patrolling Crime Alley when he got into a confrontation with some asshole drug dealer who had been selling to kids, before Jason had suddenly been outnumbered and surrounded. He fought, of course, but one of them must have gotten a really good hit on his head.
Another visual sweep of the room tells him they’re being monitored, a camera with a blinking red light in the top corner. One angled on him and another camera behind him angled at the kid. Whoever put them here will surely come to check on them soon having seen Jason was awake.
“Kid.”
Tim doesn’t react.
“Wake up kid!”
Still nothing.
Jason does roll his eyes this time. But before he can do anything else, he hears the door open behind him.
“Well well well, look who’s awake.”
“Yeah, yeah. What do you want?”
The man snickers, walking into Jason’s line of sight.
“This is a rather unexpected situation. Not the original plan we had for you. But, we thought, why not kill two birds with one stone?”
Jason merely raises an eyebrow, the man rolls his eyes.
“Oh, you are no fun. Fine, I’ll speak plainly. We’re sick of Red Hood thinking he can take over our business. So, what better way to show him that we don’t care about his rules than to hurt those he tries to protect?”
The creep walks over to Tim now, looking at him carefully.
“And, if that just so happens to be the adoptive son of a billionaire, why not get some ransom money whilst we’re at it?”
“You’re gonna make me watch you torture a kid?”
“Precisely.”
Jason takes a deep breath.
“This won’t work.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Someone will come for the kid.”
The man grins in a way that makes Jason’s stomach twist.
“Yes, but not before I’ve had my fun.”
The man takes a syringe out of his pocket, and quickly stabs Tim’s neck, pushing the plunger. In a couple of seconds, Tim wakes up sharply, his head snapping up and eyes wide.
“Good morning sleeping beauty. How was your rest?”
Tim doesn’t respond, scanning the room, assessing the situation. Jason quickly starts blinking in Tim’s direction in morse code, knowing the kid will understand.
R.A.N.S.O.M.
Tim shifts in his bindings, blinking back a simple K.
Jason frowns.
“Now, what shall we do first, hm?”
Jason pulls against his restraints, trying to loosen them.
“You don’t wanna do this, trust me.”
“Oh, and why not?”
“Cuz if you do, I will personally see to it that you go through hell.”
The man only grins.
“You mean from that chair? Oh wow, I’m terrified.”
Jason growls.
“Okay smartass, you’re racking up strikes now.”
Jason continues shifting against his bindings, trying to find any kind of give. He isn’t able to. The man simply ignores him and turns back to Tim, pulling a simple knife from his pocket. Tim barely glances at it.
“Tell me kid, how much money do you think your daddy will give us for you, hm?”
Tim doesn’t respond.
This, evidently irritates the man. He snaps his fingers in front of Tim’s face.
“Hey sunshine, that shot of adrenaline should have woken you up. It’s rude to not answer a question.”
Tim still says nothing, hardly even looking at the guy. He’s just blankly spaced out, staring at nothing. Jason’s frown only deepens.
Look, kidnapping is par for the course, both from being a Wayne and being Robin. The kid has been in situations like this before. Jason knows (partially from his own experiences, partially from anecdotes) that Tim likes to give snarky responses to his captors, pissing them off and running intellectual circles around them.
This isn’t like him.
Their captor clearly doesn’t like this either.
“Fine, I’ll make you talk.”
He takes the knife and plunges it into Tim’s shoulder.
And Tim-
Doesn’t make a single sound.
Jason’s jaw literally drops.
He just… winces. The only reason anyone would know that hurts is because of his facial expression. Not even a sharp exhale came from the kid. Zero, nothing, nada.
Just… total silence.
What the fuck is wrong with Replacement?
The man seems equally as stunned.
“Oh, you think you’re tough don’t you. Alright kid, you asked for this.”
The man leaves the room briefly, and Jason stares at Tim.
“Kid, what the fuck? Did they drug you or something?”
Tim shakes his head, leaving Jason only more puzzled.
Jason doesn’t get the chance to ask any more questions, when the man returns pushing a trolley with an assortment of tools on. He particularly eyes the baseball bat which has had nails hammered into it. Nails that look old and rusted. Kid is gonna get a damn infection if the fucker uses that.
And, just because the universe hates him, that’s what the man walks up to Tim with first.
“Alright kid, you’re gonna fucking talk.”
“Wait-”
Before Jason can try to reason with the man, he takes a swing at Tim’s ribs.
And yet again, Tim doesn’t make any noise. The only thing Jason can hear is the rattle of the chains as Tim swings slightly from the force of the impact.
Jason has no comprehension of what he’s seeing. Neither does the man.
“Oh you little-”
The man unleashes a barrage of swings at Tim, hitting his ribs, stomach, legs, knees, chest, back.
Tim doesn’t utter a word. Just silently takes the beating, swinging backwards and forwards.
“That’s enough! Stop it!”
The man briefly pauses, breathing heavily from the exertion. He looks back at Jason.
“Clearly the kid isn’t suffering much.”
“You’ve probably broken at least a few bones, that’ll hurt anybody. Besides, you need him alive if you want your ransom.”
“Oh don’t you worry, I’ll make sure the brat lives. But we need a good show for the ransom video.”
“You’ve got one. Now drop it.”
The man walks over to Tim, and grabs him by his hair, yanking his head up. Tim just blinks at him.
“He looks just fine to me. He can take some more.”
“Oh for fucks sake he’s a kid! Beat the shit out of me if you want, just leave him be.”
The man pointedly ignores Jason, grabbing a gun and double checking the chamber.
“Oh come on-”
“If the kid starts making some racket, this’ll be over much faster.”
Jason looks at Tim, trying to plead with his face to just play along, make a scene, something.
Tim only looks at him blankly.
Jason starts pulling more frantically at his bindings.
The man walks over to Tim, pointing the gun to his leg.
“You better scream kid.”
“WAIT-”
BANG!
Jason looks away, ready to hear a primal roar come from Tim.
…but nothing happens.
Jason slowly looks back to Tim, who is now bleeding from his mouth. Jason can see where he has bitten his lip so hard he’s bitten through it.
And yet only the sound of silence fills the room.
“Kid what are you doing?”
The disbelief and downright confusion seems to be the only thing Jason and this man agree on.
“Fucking moron.”
The man throws the gun to the floor before storming out of the room. Jason dreads to think what he might be doing. He keeps pulling at his bindings, trying to get them loose enough to wriggle out of or break through.
“Kid, you’re allowed to cry out for fucks sake. You don’t have to be silent.”
Jason stares at Tim, who only shakes his head. That’s enough to give Jason pause.
“Yes. You are. You’ve just been shot. Not to mention beaten and stabbed. Cry, scream, swear, do something!”
Tim only continues to shake his head.
That, unintentionally no doubt, is the drive Jason needs to finally break free of his bindings.
He’s not gonna sit here for one more fucking minute and watch this kid quite literally suffer in silence.
He leans down to release the bindings on his feet, before standing and grabbing the gun the man dropped. He checks the chamber, and there are still some bullets left. Good.
He quickly looks over the trolley, finding some needles he can use as a lockpick. He darts over to Tim, releasing the shackle of his good arm first. He speaks lowly before undoing the second.
“This is gonna suck. Sorry about this.”
Tim doesn’t respond, and Jason assumes the kid has probably just dissociated due to the pain. He unlocks the other shackle, and grabs Tim before he can collapse to the floor.
“There’s no easy way about this. We gotta leave that knife in until we can get you treatment, and I need a free arm to shoot.”
Tim nods, and Jason lifts him, holding the kid with one arm on his hip. Tim uses his good arm to grip onto Jason as tight as he can, and Jason winces for the kid when he feels Tim’s bad arm slowly come up to cling on as well.
They just need to get the fuck out of here.
Jason moves as quickly and as carefully as he can, looking for the exit. The building doesn’t seem too complicated, clearly some old abandoned office building. He finds the exit in no time, thankfully without running into anybody else. Turns out it's the dead of night, and a quick scan up and down the street tells him no one is around. His closest safehouse is about two blocks away, so he holsters his gun, grabs onto Tim, and starts running.
Jason makes it to his safehouse in record time, kicking down the door, and quickly getting Tim situated on the couch, before running for his first aid supplies. It might not be as good as the Batcave, but it’ll be good enough for Tim’s injuries.
He runs back over to the kid, who is somehow still awake, blinking tiredly at him.
“Alright kid, this is gonna hurt. For the love of fucking god, please make some noise. No one’s gonna get mad at you for that.”
Tim doesn’t respond. Jason growls as he crouches down, moving to cut Tim’s trouser leg to get to the bullet wound.
“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? I know Batman has trained you but that was not fucking normal. Certainly not for Tim fucking Drake-Wayne. What is going on?”
Tim still remains as silent as an abandoned house. Jason swallows as he sets about treating Tim’s injuries.
It takes a shit ton of time, gauze, ointment, and bandages, but eventually Tim is as patched up as Jason can manage. Jason quickly rifles through his medicine cabinet for some antibiotics and painkillers, before returning to Tim, pressing the drugs into his hand.
“I’ll get you some water, just give me a-”
Tim cuts him off by swallowing the tablets dry. Jason stares.
“...all right, show off. Now I’m gonna need to move ya. Laying here won’t be good for your injuries.”
Tim only gives a single nod. Jason chooses to let it slide, gently scooping Tim up and carrying him to his bed, setting him down and pulling the blanket up over him.
“Sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time for more meds. We’ll get you back to the bats tomorrow.”
Tim nods before closing his eyes, and Jason leaves the kid to settle as he walks back into the living room. He quickly grabs a burner phone that he had left stuffed down the side of the couch, and dials Dick’s number.
Dick could not be more relieved to hear Jason’s voice. He knew Jason had gotten Tim out of the room, but didn’t know what happened after.
“Have you got Tim?”
“Yeah, kid’s with me. But what the fuck did you and Bruce do to him?”
Dick’s sigh of relief was brief. He already knew what Jason was talking about. After Bruce had been sent the ransom video, clearly heavily edited, Oracle was able to pinpoint the building’s location and hack into the camera feed to see what had been removed. He and Bruce were just as disturbed.
“I don’t know why he did that. I cannot think of any reason-”
“I swear to god if Bruce somehow got it in this kid's head that he isn’t allowed to express himself, I’m gonna kill him.”
“Bruce says he never said anything to Tim.”
“And you believe him?”
Dick sighs.
“Bruce… doesn’t always say the right thing. But I would struggle to believe he would tell Tim to not cry out in pain, especially as he was taken hostage as Tim rather than Robin. That wouldn’t make sense for Bruce to even do.”
“How long has the kid been like this?”
“We noticed it about two months ago. I tried talking to him, but he said nothing was wrong and he was fine.”
Jason groans.
“Cuz all of us are brilliant at talking about our feelings.”
“I can’t make Tim talk to me if he doesn’t want to.”
“Not the point Dick.”
Dick shakes his head.
“We’ll come get him tomorrow. Thanks for looking after him, little wing.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Jason hangs up without another word, and Dick sighs in frustration, before going to find Bruce.
Since news of Tim’s situation came in, he had been staring at the ransom video on the monitor in the Batcave, replaying it over and over and over. This is where Dick finds him now.
“Jason’s got him.”
Bruce grunts in acknowledgement, replaying the video again.
“Bruce, you should get some rest. You’re only torturing yourself by watching this.”
Bruce shakes his head, beckoning Dick over. Dick approaches and stares at the screen.
“What is it?”
“Watch this bit carefully.”
“Kid, you’re allowed to cry out for fucks sake. You don’t have to be silent.”
Jason’s voice comes through the speakers, and Dick stares at the screen.
“Yes. You are. You’ve just been shot. Not to mention beaten and stabbed. Cry, scream, swear, do something!”
Bruce lets it run until the two make their way out of the room before pausing. Dick frowns.
“What am I looking at exactly?”
Bruce rewinds the video.
“Watch Tim.”
Dick nods, and carefully watches the recording of his brother.
“Kid, you’re allowed to cry out for fucks sake. You don’t have to be silent.”
This time, Dick sees Tim shake his head in reply.
“Yes. You are. You’ve just been shot. Not to mention beaten and stabbed. Cry, scream, swear, do something!”
Again, Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t stop shaking his head until Jason comes over to pick the locks in fact. Dick inhales sharply.
“He’s shaking his head no, like he has to be silent.”
Bruce nods grimly.
“But… why?”
“I don’t know, Dick.”
“Fuck, poor kid. How has he gotten that idea in his head?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Dick looks at Bruce carefully.
“When he comes back, you better make it extremely clear to him that it’s okay to show emotions.”
Bruce only nods.
“I will.”
Dick nods firmly, before heading out of the Batcave, turning in for the night.
Tim, unfortunately, did not fall asleep. The pull of exhaustion after such an adrenaline-filled day was not enough to allow Tim to slip under.
Instead, he found himself reflecting on what happened in that room.
Tim had been held hostage before, that on its own was not new. This was, however, the first time Tim had been silent during the event.
And everyone just seemed so angry at him.
The kidnapper was furious, stabbing, beating, and then shooting him. His aggression only got worse the longer Tim remained silent. That didn’t make any sense.
And then Jason…
Jason was livid. Perhaps not at Tim directly in the same way the kidnapper was, but he was pissed about something.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. People were supposed to be happy that Tim was being quiet. It was better than Tim mouthing off at criminals and causing a scene by being overdramatic about any injuries he suffered.
Quiet was good. He wasn’t too much that way.
But… maybe being totally silent was too silent? Was he being too much in another way by being silent?
…Was it just the fact that it was Tim the problem?
It hurt his head to think about. He couldn’t make sense of it at all. He just wanted to be told what to do, have someone make it make sense. He didn’t want to be too much. He wanted to be just right for everybody. How was he supposed to do that? How was he supposed to make everyone happy? How was he-
His internal spiralling was disrupted when Jason’s hand on his shoulder made him jolt in surprise. He felt a groan building in his throat from the sudden movement, but forced himself to swallow it. He stared at Jason.
“Sorry kid, didn’t mean to startle ya. You were muttering to yourself and seemed out of it. I just came to give you some more meds.”
Tim nods.
“Thanks.”
Jason opens his mouth, to make a witty remark Tim is sure, but he seems to think better of it. Instead, he sighs as he hands Tim his meds.
“What’s going on, Replacement?”
Tim hums in question.
“Don’t give me that. That might work on Dick but it won’t work on me. And I’m not nice enough to leave you to it. Start talking.”
When Tim remains silent for a minute or so, Jason simply shifts and folds his arms to make himself comfortable, a silent eyebrow raise indicating he has no intention of leaving until Tim explains himself.
Tim opens his mouth to deny once again, restating the fact that he’s fine and doesn’t know what Jason means, but all that comes out is a single sob. Tim slaps his hand over his mouth.
“Oh no you don’t.”
Jason leans forward and grabs Tim’s wrist, pulling it away from his mouth. Seemingly as a precaution, he grabs Tim’s other wrist as well.
“Kid. People have feelings. You’re allowed to express them. If you need to cry, cry. Don’t swallow it. Just do it.”
Tim half-heartedly tries to pull away, but Jason’s grip doesn’t budge. Another sob falls from his mouth without his permission.
“And don’t try to do that shit quietly either. I don’t care if you need to wail so loud the neighbours complain. You’re a kid. Cry if you need to.”
Despite himself, Tim tries to stop himself, fighting with every ounce of strength he has left to not cry.
“Tim.”
Tim braves looking Jason in the eye, and is stunned at the amount of despair he sees there. Jason quietly whispers.
“Please.”
And Tim breaks.
It’s not a clean snap in half. It is the complete and total shattering of his being, parts of him scattering all over into the tiniest shards, each carrying every single feeling and thought he had buried over the last two or so months. Each crystal filled with memories of all the times someone has asked him to shrink himself, remarked that he was too much, now reflecting on the walls and floor of the room around him. He has no sense of himself as a singular entity, just parts of him floating around the space with nothing to hold them together now that the box he had been shoving everything into had disintegrated with a single plea from Jason.
Jason sits with Tim through it all. He pulls the kid closer to him and holds him. Not to muffle his cries or hide his tears, but simply to be a tether for Tim to remind him that he isn’t alone. He sits silently, but does not let Tim go, even when Tim thrashes with the full force of his emotions finally being released. He keeps hold, ensuring Tim does not injure himself further, without stopping Tim from letting go.
Tim doesn’t know how long this goes on for. He could’ve been crying for a century and he would have no idea. All he knows is that he cries until his body has no tears left to give, every muscle screaming in exhaustion, his voice no louder than a hoarse whisper after the strain of his breakdown. He struggles for breath, inhaling sharply, before simply slumping down, not a single ounce of strength left in him.
Jason holds him, prevents him from falling off the bed, before gently re-arranging Tim to lay under the covers, his head propped up on the pillows. Jason crouches down next to the bed after, looking at Tim who is now fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Sleep now, baby bird.”
Tim doesn’t even get to nod before his eyes fall shut, and sleep finally, finally claims him.
Tim only wakes up when Jason comes to give him his next round of medication, as well as a cup of herbal tea that is meant to soothe sore throats apparently. Tim drinks it gratefully as Jason sits with him in silence. To both of their surprises, it is Tim who speaks first.
“I… I’m sorry.”
His voice is quiet and scratchy, but Jason hears it clearly enough.
“Don’t be. You needed that.”
Tim nods in response.
“What in the everloving fuck happened to you?”
Tim looks down at the mug in his hands, the warmth seeping through to his palms, feeling embarrassed.
“I… think I overreacted.”
Jason scoffs.
“Kid, I’ve seen overreactions. What I saw from you last night was genuine pain. Whatever it was hurt you, and hurt you bad. And don’t even start with any comparison bullshit. Pain is pain. Now talk.”
Tim sighs, and slowly, quietly explains the conversation he had heard between Bruce and Dick on the comms, how he knows it wasn’t meant for his ears, but he couldn’t help but listen. His plan to talk less, how he slowly faded in stages, and the relief he felt when it appeared to be successful. He even went on to explain times when his teachers and even his parents had told him similar things, how he was always too much no matter who was telling him. Every time he thought about stopping, worried he was rambling, he would look at Jason, who would give him an encouraging nod every single time. Jason didn’t say a single word the entire time, just let Tim talk. Listened to everything Tim had to say.
“...and that’s how we ended up here.”
Jason nods quietly, and Tim patiently waits. Jason just listened to him talk, Tim can wait for him to process. But just as Jason is about to open his mouth-
Knock knock knock.
Jason sighs, his eye twitching in frustration.
“That’ll be Dick. Stay here, I’ve got this.”
There is a dangerous emerald glint in Jason’s eyes, and Tim swallows.
“Wait.”
Jason stops in front of the bedroom door and looks back at Tim.
“...Don’t kill them. Literally or verbally.”
A beat of silence passes before Jason huffs. A gentle one, filled with a tiny laugh.
“Just for you, kid. They’ll leave here alive today.”
And with that, Jason walks out, leaving Tim to his own devices.
Jason storms over to the front door, wrenching it open. He is slightly surprised to see both Dick and Bruce there, but it doesn’t change his plans to give the fucking idiots an absolute bollocking.
He steps back to let them in, pointing to his couch. Both men sit down, and Jason all but slams his front door shut, before moving to stand in front of them.
“Have you both lost your fucking minds?”
Bruce doesn’t react, Dick seems startled.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re both complete and utter fucking morons.”
“Jay-”
“No no, you’re gonna let me talk, because neither of you have any fucking clue what this kid has been through because you’re both completely oblivious dickwads.”
Dick has the common sense to not try to speak again. Jason runs a hand down his face.
“Two ish months ago. Patrol. Comms. Dick asked to switch to a private channel. Asked how Tim was getting on as Robin. Ringing any bells?”
Bruce still hasn’t reacted, and Dick looks blank. Jason grits his teeth.
“He’s talkative, that’s one way of putting it, not ideal? Now do you remember? Or, how about the real fucking kicker, he can be a bit much sometimes, too much.”
It takes them a few seconds, but when it does click, Bruce’s eyes go wide, and Dick slaps his hand over his mouth.
“Oh there we go, now you realise how far you’ve gone and royally fucked it. That kid has been shutting down and bottling everything for two fucking months because you idiots didn’t think before you opened your mouths.”
“It was a private line-”
Jason glares at Bruce and cuts him off.
“A malfunction on Babs’ part or the tech or something, but still not the important bit. You destroyed that kid in two fucking sentences. Are you happy now? You got the quiet Robin you wanted.”
Dick’s voice shakes when he speaks.
“That… we didn’t mean-”
“Oh fuck off you didn’t mean it. You meant exactly what you said. Look, I ain’t here to argue fucking feelings, what I am here to argue is there was a much better way of going about it. You two need to pull your heads out of your asses and realise your words have fucking consequences!”
Neither Bruce nor Dick have a reply for that. Jason, seeing the vibrant green at the edges of his vision, takes a deep breath.
“That kid has a good head. He’s got it on straight, he knows what he’s doing. He’s smart, creative, observant. Isn’t that the reason you took him on as Robin in the first place? He’s been told all his life that he is too much, and Robin was supposed to be something to show him that actually, he’s just fine the way he is. And you two went and completely fucked that for him. He is not too fucking much.”
Dick nods insistently, and even Bruce gives a single nod of agreement now. The sudden change of heart makes Jason’s blood boil, but he knows he promised the kid no killing. So, Jason takes another deep breath before speaking once more.
“So, here’s what’s gonna happen. The kid is gonna stay with me until he’s recovered from his physical injuries, and then he gets to decide what he wants to do next. You two are gonna fuck off until he chooses to get back in touch, IF he chooses to. No texts, no calls, no nothing. If I find out either of you are trying to guilt him into anything, I swear I will kill you both. Got it?”
Dick doesn’t reply. Bruce gives a single nod. Jason nods back.
“Now get the fuck out of my house.”
For a few, painfully tense moments, no one moves. Then, Bruce slowly stands, and begins walking to the door. Dick quickly follows him, and begins to head out. Bruce leaves first. Dick looks back at Jason one last time, seemingly going to say something, before thinking better of it, and closing the door behind him.
Jason sighs, moving to sit down and run a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself and steady his breathing before he goes back and checks on Tim. The walls are thin, so there is no way Tim didn’t hear all of the conversation they had. But Jason wants to be a steady presence, not scare the kid by being pissed off. He remains on the couch for some time, and manages to eventually calm down enough to return to where Tim is sitting up in bed, looking at the door. Jason gives him a nod, which Tim returns.
“You okay, kid?”
Tim nods.
“Yeah.”
Jason moves to sit on the bed.
“Just so you know, despite what I told them, what you do now is up to you. I’d prefer it if you stayed at least until you’re physically healed, but if you have somewhere you’d rather be whilst you do I won’t hold that against you. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”
Tim nods.
“I’m good here, thanks though.”
Jason nods.
“Lemme know if that changes.”
Tim nods again, and the two sit in silence for a while. Once again, it is Tim who breaks it.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“...Thank you.”
Jason pauses only for a beat, before shrugging.
“It’s fine.”
Tim nods back, before shifting to lay down.
“I’m… going to sleep for a while.”
Jason ruffles Tim’s hair.
“You got it. I’ll wake you for your next round of meds. Rest well baby bird.”
Tim offers Jason a smile, which Jason returns, before standing and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Tim closes his eyes, and allows himself to drift off to sleep, where his imagination continues to run rampant in his dreams, ideas and thoughts twisting and branching off in every direction. He allows himself to climb every tree and dance along every branch, and simply be under the leaves in his mind.