Chapter Text
“Mommy?” a tiny little boy tugs at the corner of his mother's dress. She is planning for another journey for herself and her husband again, the maps of various locations laid out all over her desk. She turns stiffly in her chair, her shoulders aching from the strain of sitting in a poor position. But she smiles.
“Yes dear?”
“Can people die of a broken heart?”
She stopped at those words, thoughts no longer on the project being planned. Her eyes looking into big, wide blue orbs glittering with curiosity and innocence, her poor little boy, her poor little Tim, old and young beyond his body. What would she do without him. What would he do without her?
She spun the chair around, fully facing her son and snatched him up in her arms, nuzzling into his full head of raven silk, her beautiful little boy. How long before the world steals his precious innocence away. How much time did they have left before Gotham claimed her dues, taking from them not their wealth but their happiness?
“I don't think so, Tim, it's very hard for that to happen,” She can't tell him about Mother, “But maybe it could hurt so much it feels like dying.”
“Can doctors fix it?”
“The doctors don't understand.”
The tiny child snuggles his head against his mother's chest, breathing softly as he listened to her fragile heart beat, thumping away like the flutter of bird's wings against his ears. She curls over her son, arms circling around him like featherless wings. They said he is his father's son, he had his determination and anything that became the object of his interest became an obsession. But he is also his mother's child, her eyes and heart, the paleness of delicate hollowed ivory in their bodies and skin. Her child was a beautiful, fragile bird, trying to become a dragon and her saddened soul knew, he would try his whole life. It would become his obsession. And it would break him, just as it broke her mother.
“I hope I don't get a broken heart, it sounds painful.”
Oh my son, it is, and it isn't even my heart. Janet sniffed his little head once more and urged him to play in the garden, among the flowers, trees and birds. She watched as he ran and twirled, alone but happy among the foliage. And she hoped.
Hoped he wouldn't lose himself to the world because the world will break him when it can get the chance, hopes that whoever is out there for him, will protect his little glass soul. Because dying from a broken heart is the slowest and most terrible way to die.
He was breaking. He knew it but there was no way he would show this weakness to the brat. And it wasn't even his fault, not entirely. He'd trusted Dick, always had since he started wearing his colors to fight crime. And he love it because it made him feel strong, they made him feel strong, like nothing could break him. Who knew it would be those same people whom he'd trusted, the ones closest to him that would crack him apart.
Tim didn't know what would break him. Not until he lost all those closest to him, Mom the casualty of a rotten world, Dad a casualty of his unfortunate affliction, Bart and Kon the casualties of a war, the girl he could have fallen in love with, just a casualty of Gotham. That was his life, one unfortunate event after another. It was then that he realized that his biggest fear, was being alone.
Now, he was alone. The man who'd saved and dragged him into the darkest depths of the world's evil had gone, leaving him there with nothing but a whisper of his legacy.
Dick made a poor imitation and it wasn't his fault. Now, the last scraps of Robin that held him together was stripped away, given to that child.
The kicker? It wasn't Damian that solitude would kill, it was Tim. And Dick didn't even realize.
The moment he left the manor, he felt it, like a poisonous flower blooming across his heart. And when he donned a new suit, a new name, a broken identity that could burst at the seams, it began to spread. And it wasn't until when he was alone, nestled between monsters in silence that he knew, his time was limited.
“Evening, replacement.”
The gruff voice, strong and rebellious, uncaring of the harsh cold. Not breaking. Tim was almost jealous.
“What is it Jason?” he was almost proud of how well he pulled off that cold calmness in his voice. Jason was the last person he wanted to know.
“Change of costume?” one eyebrow cocked up in curiosity at the boy's sudden change of colors. Noticing the lack of pluckiness he presented when they first met. But the boy ignored his questioning look and continued to look busy.
“I can't deal with you right now, I need to find Bruce.”
“Why don't you get Dick to help, or maybe B's kid?”
“Haven't you heard, they're the new dynamic duo,” Tim said, internally flinching at his own biting words.
“Oh snap, guess that means, you're nothing now huh?”
Tim remained silent.
“Think that if you can find Bruce that he'll take you back, make you Robin again?” Jason leaned forward, whispering into the boy's ear, “Think again, Robin only happens once, I should know. You'll never be Robin again.”
Tim was a pretender, and now he was pretending not to feel the cracks spread further across his core, slowly suffocating him
Despite harsh words, the former second Robin accompanied him on his journey, simply out of boredom he said. He didn't complain. The more time they spent together, the less his chest hurt, somehow, despite his venom, Jason must be healing him. He hoped.
And his voice bit at Tim less, eventually settling into a mask of disinterest with occasional concern.
“Doesn't anything bother you?”
“What?”
“You got fired from Robin, how are you not out for blood?”
“Not everybody is like you, Jason.”
Jason didn't retort, instead he stared at Tim intently, making him shift uncomfortably underneath the gaze of those teal eyes, he felt as if he was being studied, a man examining a bird underneath a lens. He wanted to escape before he noticed Tim's broken wings. Breaking heart.
He stood up, dusting off his suit and walked. Jason didn't follow.
They never spoke of it again, and by the time they were close to finding Bruce, they'd already settled into a comfortable but quiet partnership, they exchanged few words but Tim could sense that Jason had never stopped studying him. His demeanor quickly changing as Tim was beginning to wear down from his fights. Being stripped layer by layer by one painful truth after another, like the world was out to rub salt on his cuts and scars.
The next time, it was when he got careless. When he realized that no one, no one but a boy who had died once, believed him. That they'd rather believe that he'd gone mad with grief than give his theory the benefit of a doubt. So he lashed out with as little caution as possible.
Jason grasped him by the shoulders and shook so hard the world trembled like a quake in his eyes.
“The hell, replacement! You could've been killed.”
I'm dying Jason, Tim's mind whispered. But he closed his eyes and let those words die in his throat.
“Didn't think it mattered to you,” he tried to sound plucky, and failing. Cracks tend to impede ones ability to be funny. Jason had no reason to be so worried. The concern that colored his voice was ill-fitting, or maybe misdirected, it just didn't seem right, for those words to be for Tim. Not for him. Never meant for him. Damian's biting words, Dick's still grieving sighs came surging back fresh within his mind, now of all times, “I'll be fine.”
“I've been with you long enough, Tim, to know something is wrong,”
Jason said his name, maybe he was losing his mind. When Tim looked up he saw that spark of knowing in those eyes, Jason was coming far too close to discovering the truth. He couldn't let him, not when they were so close. Why were they doing this again? He closed his eyes again and brushed the other man off. Need to find Bruce, need to know. This could bring Tim back again, or end him.
“Bruce...”
“You found me.” His voice, just the way Tim remembered it. He could almost have cried there and then with relief. But he wasn't one for such displays. He blinked the tears back.
“We did, Jason and I.”
Bruce's eyes flickered over to the man, standing off to the side with arms crossed. His expression hidden beneath the helmet. So he looked back at Tim. His own expression unreadable beneath the stoic mask he wore so well, but somewhere underneath, something passed over Bruce's eyes. Tim hoped it was pride. But he said nothing about it.
“You were always nothing, Drake, nothing but a nosy, untalented imbecile worming your way into this family, taking advantage of Father's kindness when Todd was in his grave, but he has me now, his true son, and you? You are but a cuckoo's child, and you'll be cast out.”
Not true, Bruce will understand, Bruce, Dad, Partner, still needs him...
“You'll see very soon, that you're just in the way, you are not Robin any more. You can go back to nothing, the way you were.”
...doesn't he?
Bruce turned away with nothing else to talk about,“Let's go home.”
He didn't know how wrong he was, didn't know until he saw Bruce greet Dick and Damian, Batman and Robin. He'd proven them wrong, he'd found Bruce.
He almost expected, thought Bruce would take the mantle again and prove Jason wrong too, that he could be Robin again. He wanted it so bad he was almost ashamed of it. But it would mean they could be partners again, and he wouldn't be alone any more. And Jason didn't hate him like he used to, things could be better than before.
But one look into Bruce's eyes and he knew, he realized, Jason was right, Damian was right. It was so ironic that they read each other so well, like Batman and Robin should, without a single word uttered, a story was told.
The man was changed, nearly unrecognisable. Bruce didn't look at him the way he used to when he still wore the colors of a plucky little bird and that was when he understood what that fleeting spark across his deep blue eyes meant. It was sadness, not pride, he'd changed, no, not him, it was Tim.
Tim would never fly again, wings that were so broken couldn't fly again. His heart had never healed, it had only slowed. A Robin that was this broken can't be Robin any more. The title was Damian's now.
The brat grinned deviously at him from behind the two Batmen.
“Told you so.” he said. Told you so, he'd said.
The breaking was so loud, he was afraid they could hear it. Don't walk away, his heart said, Tim left.
He was tired, so very tired. Even has he strolled up to the manor, his whole body felt like stone dragging along the ground. But seeing Alfred again made it a little better. The butler answered the door with a pleasantly surprised look.
“Master Timothy, it's been weeks since we last heard from you, I was almost convinced you'd up and left on vacation,” the old man said, ushering him inside and taking his coat, fussing over him as always. Tim let his lips pull into an exhausted smile.
“Something like that,” he said, Alfred lifted one eyebrow at him when Tim failed to regale him of the details of his missing weeks, Tim purposefully avoided it, “Thought I'd come back and sleep in my room for once, I missed this place and having you around.”
“And I, you, Master Tim, and I should not have to remind you that these doors are open for you always.”
“Thank you.” Tim headed for the stairs.
“Will you be staying, Master Tim?”
Tim deliberated for a moment before smiling, “Yeah, I guess I will.”
He trudged up to his room just missing Damian who was coming out from the kitchen. He shot a suspicious look at Tim's back before looking to Pennyworth. For some reason, the old man had a terribly pained look on his face.
“What is Drake doing here?”
“He'll be staying with us again, Master Damian.”
“Couldn't he have stayed with his friends, he had plenty of options outside of the manor.”
“If I recall, he hasn't seen them since the whole ordeal began, and I shall remind you, he is as much a Wayne as you are, Master Timothy is always welcome here.”
Damian tutted at that, no use arguing with Pennyworth, the butler was as stubborn as they get. He headed towards the study instead.
Tim had almost forgotten what it was like, just being in his room. As he sat there listening to nothing, staring at everything. The state of the room had been left as it was although slightly dusty. He never was the neatest person but he tried, it helped being organized when he had cases to work on and invariably, his desk was probably the neatest part of the room.
Sitting clearly on his desk were the various photos, his happiest moments with the people closest to him, captured and frozen in a moment in time.
His parent and himself in one frame, a family shoot, his Dad's proud face, Tim's determination and drive. Mom's loving eyes. Tim's eyes, her heart. His breaking heart.
The one with Bruce and him outside in the garden, Bruce glowing as Tim, his Robin, balanced a large pot of lavender blossoms in his hands, a little boy with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. He hadn't smiled like that for a long time. That little boy wasn't him. Not the same one that Bruce looked at with pride. Disappointing.
He couldn't be Robin any more, that was Damian's role now. No matter how much he wanted it, he was too far gone.
Tim let out a pained noise. So ironic, he'd once said that Batman needed a Robin, when had it become that Tim needed Robin? Needed to be Robin to save his life. Needed to fly. But that time was long dead and gone. Robin once, Robin never again.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring into nothing, in the dark for a couple of hours. The shadows that haunted the corners of his room gradually became comforting. Eyes beginning to drift closed, he laid back on his bed, a cold but comforting room filled with nothing but shadows and silence.
Oh, that's who he was now. Tim smiled. No wonder.
His mind began to wander, a song, his mother's song fluttering sweet notes in his mind, whispering and whining gently to his heart. Slow and solemn.
The dream of music and swirling mist ended too soon as a voice called to him.
“Tim, hey, Tim!”
He opened his eyes to see Jason just inches away from his face, staring into his eyes, searching for signs of life, before letting out a relieved chuckle, more like an exasperated laugh. He let go of Tim's shoulder and sat back on the bed.
“You were way too still there for someone who's sleeping, geez, you always scare people like this?”
Tim smiled back, he didn't care any more if Jason still hated him or not, somehow, none of it mattered.
“I've scared people in other ways, Jason.”
“Hah, you're doing something right, then,” Jason leaned forward again, brushing a stray strand from Tim's face, “You okay there? We haven't seen your face around town for weeks now, and you're pale as a ghost.”
Tim nodded, “Just a bit tired. I never got enough hours when I was Robin, perpetually worked overtime especially with the big cases. Alfred still won't let me live it down.”
“Honestly, I don't get how you can make yourself do that, I'd rather blow my own legs off than skip a good nights rest.”
“Guess that's where were different Robins.”
“Damn, you're way too serious.”
It was odd, seeing Jason so affectionate when he was so accustomed to his rage, his need to kill especially as his replacement, that rage was mostly directed at Tim. But now, he got to see this side of Jason. It was like looking at a complete stranger. One that Tim had come to know. And he was glad, he thought, as Jason pulled up a chair to sit by Tim's bedside.
Tim turned over on his side, arms curled up at his chest, blue eyes trained on Jason reflecting a little in the soft light from behind the door that had been left slightly ajar. They stayed like that in silence, for once Jason wasn't throwing mean comments at him though he had to think hard about what he could talk to Tim about.
“You know, of all the time I spent shooting at you, I never asked what it was like, your time working with the Batman, then again I didn't really care and just assumed that you did the exact same stuff that I did when I was Robin.”
“Maybe, some parts of it, but I think, we did things differently.”
Jason let out a snort, “Yeah? Like what?”
“We did the usual patrols, yes, but I helped a lot with the investigation parts, usually Bruce relied on me to get info wherever he couldn't, stuff like sneaking into small spaces. He taught me a lot on stealth, so I got better at squeezing into small spaces and climbing on rafters.”
He'd seen Jason at work as Robin and normally never had to do all the crazy stuff that Tim had before.
“No shit, you are tiny.” Tim gave him a droopy glare, which made Jason laugh, he had to cover up to stop himself looking like a cackling fool.
“Not that tiny, Jason, 5' 6” a good size for someone my age.”
“Right, at your age I was already in the six category.”
“Stop rubbing it in Jay.”
Jason sat back just out of reach of Tim's flailing arms, “Oh and you may be fit and stuff, but something tells me you're never gonna be stacked in the strength department.”
Tim let out a frustrated grumble but he could his lips curling into a soft smile despite himself. The former dead Robin and vengeful killer, was here making him laugh, of all the things he expected. But he was glad, appreciated that someone was here and for a brief moment he wondered if Bruce or Dick was here. They probably didn't care or were too busy to look. Somehow, it didn't surprise him any more.
Fade.
“Hey, hey, where'd that smile go?” Jason said, his smile soured a bit with concern as he noticed the light go out of Tim's eyes. Tim flickered his gaze from the door up to Jason again, bringing back that smile with him. He shook his head.
“I never pegged you for someone concerned with how I'm feeling.”
“Things change, I was wrong about you and I want to at least try and fix things between us. You're still my replacement though, replacement,” Tim laughed, it came out more like a cough. He couldn't help but look back towards the door, noting the activity somewhere outside, almost to far for him to hear. Far away from him. Jason noticed him staring at the door.
“Hey, forget them it's not worth killing yourself trying to move mountains for them any more, you've done enough,” Jason said, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder. He immediately winced and moved to tug the covers higher over the boy.
“Christ, Tim, you're cold, are you alright?”
Tim didn't answer instead he looked right into Jason's eyes, so strong, all grown out of Robin, so much stronger than him and he knew Jason will be fine no matter where he ended up, “Thank you, Jason.”
“For what?”
“Being here for me, I wish we had more time,” he's running out of time.
“Hey, hey, I'll still be here, kid, always.”
Tim closed his eyes, “I'm tired, I think I'll sleep, it's been a while since I did.”
“Yeah...you sleep, I'll stay with you.”
Tim let the smile creep into his lips once more and drifted off.
Crack
Mom used to tell him people can't die of a broken heart, not really. It didn't stop little Tim from being scared and hiding away his little heart until he met Batman. Then he found his courage and became a brave little Robin, helping people, saving lives. Making friends and falling in love, his heart shone the brightest those days and he was happy.
He was Robin.
Not enough time, too soon.
He lost them all, lost Bruce, lost Robin. All he wanted was to get it all back, hoping with what was left of his heart, that things would go back to the way it was, then his heart could heal. But nothing would ever go back to the way it was. Tim, Robin, who shone like the brightest star, faded away. Tired and beaten, but it he wouldn't trade away those memories, the lessons he learned for his old life, or a new life.
He was Robin.
He could call out for Kon and he would hear him, he always heard him, but right now he was too tired so maybe later he thought. Tim's breath finally evened out as the tension left his body. This is good, even through the haze he didn't feel so lonely with Jason's presence standing guard. This was all he needed.
His job was done. Shatter.
Jason felt his body stirring in the seat, grumbling uncomfortably to himself as he adjusted his position. He didn't think he could stay that long but watching Tim made him all relaxed and dozy. The boy looked so young in his sleep there was no trace of the vigilante in him and for a moment, Jason was left wondering how he had come so close to ending his life, he must have been truly insane then. But as Jason shifted his blurry gaze to Tim again, his eyes softened.
The kid must have been exhausted, making up for lost hours.
He reached forward and brushed a bit of hair away from Tim's face, “Hey, it's morning, you should get some breakfast before Alfred adds another offence to his list.”
Tim made no move to get up.
Jason's hand on his shoulder almost missed how wrong Tim felt, “Hey, Tim. Timmy. Tim. Replacement.”
He shook a little harder, but Tim didn't even flinch, “Tim?”
He was cold, no pulse, no beating in his chest.
“Oh god, no, no, no, Tim!”
Jason pushed the covers back and lifted the limp body in his arms, cradling Tim against his chest. Shaking viciously.
“Come on, come on, don't freak me out, Replacement,” he slapped his cheek lightly, trying any option he could to rouse the boy, “Wake up please, just open your eyes.”
The body hung limp, his arm fell to his side as Jason stared and stared, tears he didn't know slid down his cheeks before he buried his face into the crook of Tim's neck, sobbing. More time, he wanted more time, but he'd run out.
“ALFRED! BRUCE! GRAYSON! ANYBODY?!”
It took no longer than a minute for them to all come rushing in, including the brat who stood with Alfred in the doorway watching, as Dick and Bruce rushed in confusion and shock. Jason never, ever screamed like that. They saw him rocking Tim like a child, still sobbing quietly and when he looked up, the eyes he gave them, no seeing Tim in his arms as he stared wide at them would haunt them forever.
…………
My name is Timothy Drake Wayne, and I died of a broken heart.