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It was funny, absolutely hilarious, how badly Tim had fucked up.
It was positively hysterical in fact.
It wasn’t as though Tim didn’t have a guideline for this sort of thing, a big glaring ‘previous model’ to base everything on. He did. He had plenty to compare his own life to, blaring warning signs in the form of other people's demise that should sway any sane person away from vigilantism. Sadly it had no effect on Tim.
And sure, arguable Steph had died, horribly, after Tim was far too deep into everything to quit, to back out, but Jason?
Jason had been tortured and blown up before Tim ever had his feet in little green pixie boots or a domino mask. Tim had been barely twelve years old when his hero had perished for his ‘job’ and for Bruce’s stupid mission.
Tim didn’t even want to think about Kon or Bart, he’d already cried too much for them both; his best friends, gone.
Tim had stepped up anyway, even knowing the risks. He’d chosen a life of Vigilantism knowing full well what had happened to others, to Jason, and later to Steph, Kon, Bart and hell, even Babs, though admittedly she wasn’t targeted as Batgirl.
Dick was hardly an exception either, while the man still lived and breathed Tim could see behind smiles and octopus hugs; the haunted looks buried deep, the years of trauma and suffering and the things Dick could never tell anyone, the unimaginable horrors an eight year old had been subjected to, much like Tim when he’d taken to the rooftops with only his coat on his back and a camera in his hands, no form of protection on him.
But it was honestly absolutely comical. Tim had thrown his life away for what?
Well.. Tim had survived. He’d survived and his friends were dead and Pru well she’d never speak again thanks to his stupidity- She probably hated him again and he’d made an enemy of an assassin.. Another assassin. But he’d survived for now…
Mind, Tim’s spleen hadn’tsurvived. He’d woken up when he thought he’d seen the last of life, eyes sliding shut surrounded by his friends corpses and blood and sand.
That was what was so fucking funny.
Tim thought he was finally escaping, both reality and the weight of the name he carried, that his time was up and honestly, thank God. He’d already been effectively deemed insane by Dick and threatened with Arkham of all fucking places. Damian had tried to murder him multiple times, Steph was dead and Jason… Well Jason was his usual self, an asshole to Tim on a good day and positively gleeful at the prospect of his suffering on worse ones. His Mother was gone (even if that fact made little difference considering her absence for most of his childhood) and his Father didn’t particularly care for him but had he ever? Bart and Kon were dead and Tim felt a stranger in his own team, an outcast even when Robin had always been the heart of the Titans…
So in a weird and morbid way… Tim had almost been grateful when the Widower had stabbed him and left him for dead. At least he’d get a break from everything, from the expectations and the stupid Mission he’d never be able to escape any other way. Tim always knew he’d die in a cape from the first time he’d put on the Robin suit.
And yet he lived. He’d have to continue fighting in a role he’d never be able to escape. There was no quitting from the mission he’d found himself in, no escape from Bruce’s war on Gotham’s Crime, even when the man was no longer with them (Tim was certain he wasn’t dead though.) Dick had taken up the Bat mantle, given Robin to Damian and Tim had been left with… nothing.
What did he have left?
A dysfunctional family of vigilantes in which the new head thought him crazy and the rest wanted to murder him, a biological family that never loved him and enough scars and trauma to make a therapist quit their job and seek their own treatment. Too many dead friends to count at this point and the rest he’d ignored to keep them safe. He didn’t want to think too much about Ives, about how before he’d ditched his phone the boy had messaged and rang and showed more care for his well being than any of the Bats… Tim tried not to think of what that implied.
“You’re awake, good.”
Tim didn’t bother to even look over at the man who was standing in the doorway to the room he’d been given while he healed. He didn’t want to have to look at the man and pretend he was grateful for saving his life or whatever.
“Timothy.” Ra’s drawled, voice rich and almost amused, as if Tim’s lack of obedience appeased him in some sick way.
“Fuck off.” Tim hoarsely choked out. His throat felt like sandpaper, claggy and thick no matter how much he drank, and his side still stung even though it had been several days of bed rest to get him to this point, to be in a position to move freely and to contort himself into most positions without overwhelming pain. The background stabbing sensation was ignorable, Tim wasn’t going to stop from where he was curled up on the window ledge.
“I’m afraid I cannot do so, Timothy.”
“Leave me alone, fuck off Ra’s!” Tim’s voice raised despite how his throat protested and his chest hurt.
“Timothy, my beloved, please, you require more rest, I do not wish to witness any further aggravation to your injuries.” Ra’s spoke, voice like wine, deep and rich and almost soothing. Tim frowned.
“Huh. Almost sounds like you care beyond some weird twisted plot to get back at Bruce.” Tim bit, which now that he thought about it, made little sense with Bruce gone.
“I do care, Timothy. Do you think I attempt to court just anyone?”
“Uh-” Tim fumbled because wait, this wasn’t a thing he just did to anyone he wanted under his control, to anyone he thought would be fun to play with like a cat with a mouse?
“Timothy, in my long years I’ve never… I’d like to give you the world, my Beloved.” Ra’s admitted and Tim had to admit, if the man was lying he was very good at it.
And for a moment, Tim thought. What did he actually have to lose? Absolutely nothing. If this was some stupid ploy or a lie… really Tim had nothing left to lose but his dignity.
“Fine. Court me. But be warned, it’ll take more than pretty words to woo me.” Tim clicked his tongue and when Ra’s shot him a smug grin Tim couldn’t help just grace him with his own small smirking smile in return.
Yeah, this was probably a terrible idea but was it so wrong for Tim to want to feel loved? After everything?
“Challenge accepted.” Ra’s smirked.
