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Duke found Tim in a storage closet on the fourth floor, at five in the morning.
They had been looking for him for about half an hour. He had given both his rebreathers to civilians during a Scarecrow attack, and gotten a face full of Fear Gas. They had all heard him panicking over the comms. He had eventually passed out in Nightwing’s arms. When they got him back to the cave and administered the antidote, he bolted.
He had said some concerning things while under. That he knew he was unnecessary and redundant. He had been begging Bruce not to get rid of him, that he could be useful, that he could take a suicide mission if he had to. Begging not to be left behind.
They weren’t entirely comfortable leaving him alone right now. Duke stepped into the closet, shutting the door behind him.
He squished himself in next to Tim, sitting so his feet were up against the wall and he was facing his brother. They sat in silence for a minute, and Tim kept his head buried in his arms. After a minute, Duke spoke up.
“I remember, you know,” he started, “how Batman was after Jason died. Those statistics you showed us? They don’t even show half of it.”
“I mean, statistics are one thing. Pictures of Batman in action are one thing. But it’s a whole ‘nother thing to actually be on the streets.” he leaned his head back against the door. “It was fucking terrifying. We thought the Bat would get us if we so much as littered. Everyone has a story- an estranged uncle or cousin, or a friend of a friend, who had their life ruined by Batman. Ask anyone, they can tell you ‘bout the time they hid behind a dumpster or a fire escape and watched him beat a man half to death for purse snatching. When Scarecrow or Ivy or whoever attacked, we’d all hide where we could and pretend it was the rogues we were afraid of.”
He tapped his fingers on his leg. “It was fucking terrifying,” he repeated. “And then you came along. And we were terrified for you.”
Tim looked up at that. It was nearly pitch black in the closet, but Duke could see the tear tracks on his face with his enhanced vision. He reached over and squeezed his knee.
“We knew something happened to the last Robin. Nobody talked about it, but we knew. And everyone was so, so scared, because you were just a kid. We weren’t sure if you could handle the Bat.”
Duke rubbed circles on his knee. “But then you did. You were there, and then everything was better. So, so much better.”
“You came because Batman needed a Robin. But really, it was Gotham that needed Robin. We needed you, Tim. Maybe you don’t see it, but we need you. Robin is more than Batman’s partner- Robin is Gotham’s hope. You- you were our hope. You made everything a little bit better.”
Tim lifted a hand and pushed his bangs back. “Do you really think so?” he whispered.
“I know so.” Duke said firmly. “The others might not know- Dick was in Blud, and Jason was dead, and Cass and Dames weren’t here. But ask Steph, or Babs, or anyone, they’ll agree with me. We needed you, Tim. We still do. Tim Drake or Red Robin, you always make things better.”
Duke grabbed his hand. “You- you were my Robin. And you’re my brother. And even if none of the things I said are true- even if Gotham doesn't need you, and Bruce doesn’t need you, and the others don’t need you; I need you. I love you, and I need you here. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Tim clutched his hand. “Yeah, okay.”
“Alright,” Duke smiled at him, even though he knew Tim couldn’t see. “Let’s head downstairs, yeah? I think Dick might cry if he doesn’t get a cuddle pile in before I have to leave for patrol.”
Tim snorted. “It’s Saturday. Bold of you to assume you’re getting out of here anytime before two p.m.”
“Shame.”
Duke stood up, and pulled Tim to his feet. The two of them made their way to the den, where Dick did, in fact, pull them all in for a cuddle pile. Jason roped Duke into helping him make pancakes for everyone, and Damian enlisted Tim’s help with the blanket fort.
Duke did not end up leaving the house before two p.m. He figured it was worth it for the smile on Tim’s face.