A/N: Sorry, again. I'm so inconsistent, but hopefully I'll get better about posting over the summer when I have more time. In the meantime, please enjoy and review this chapter! Please let me know what you think. I love you guys! (P.S. TRK still coming soon.)
Incessant beeping woke Tim from his very nice dream about discovering a cure for cancer. Dick dreamt about the circus, Jason dreamt about hot babes, and Tim dreamt about science. Figures. Gotta uphold my nerdiest brother reputation after all.
Tim groaned and rolled over in his bed, fumbling for his phone to shut the damn thing off. He reached for his nightstand where his phone lay, still blaring the preprogramed alarm sound.
Instead of grabbing the device Tim accidentally knocked it off the table, sending it flying even further from his nice warm bed. Tim groaned even louder than before, and muttered a few choice words Alfred wouldn't approve of.
Finally forcing himself out of bed, Tim sleepily made his way to the brightly glowing screen on the floor. He thumbed the home button and slid the lock to shut off the noise. As he did so, he noticed an unopened message from Bruce. It read: "Combat tomorrow. Come prepared. Be ready to begin at 05:00." Tim considered this information, then squinted at the tiny clock numbers on the top of his phone screen. 04:45. Crap!
Tim was definitely awake now. Before his mind registered what was going on, he had his workout shirt on and one leg in his pants, hopping towards the door. He thrust the other leg through the appropriate hole, pulled them up, and crept silently out of the house.
He ran around to the backyard and pulled out his motorcycle from its hiding place behind a bush. Tim made sure to walk it out far enough along the road so that it didn't wake his father when it started, then revved the engine and sped to the Batcave as fast as he could.
The motorcycle roared into the cave right at 04:55, just in time for training. Tim parked right next to his R-Cycle and jogged towards the sparring mat, stretching as he went.
"Good morning, Master Timothy. Would you care for a mug of coffee?" Alfred had materialized in the Cave within seconds of Tim's arrival at 4:55 in the morning with a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee. When he slept was still a mystery Tim had yet to uncover.
"Yes please." Tim accepted the caffeine gratefully. "Where's Bruce?"
"Master Bruce…merely needed a few extra moments this morning." Alfred had a strange look on his face, one that Tim couldn't quite read.
"But he's never late, why-"
"I do believe it would be best to let the matter lie today." Alfred interrupted, efficiently settling the matter.
Tim looked confused and a bit apprehensive. "Okay…"
With that strange conversation, Bruce appeared at the mouth of the changing room. He seemed even grimmer than usual, and that was saying something.
Without even a grunt in Tim's direction, Bruce moved onto the mat and assumed ready position. I guess that means we're starting.
Tim reluctantly set down his untouched coffee and stepped onto the mat as well, mirroring Bruce's body position.
Bruce suddenly flew at him without any warning, being unusually aggressive in the practice sparring match. It was all Tim could do to get out of the way of Bruce's punches fast enough, dipping and ducking as fast as he possibly could. Bruce aimed a brutal side-kick at his protégé that barely skimmed Tim's stomach, then followed it up with a strong punch to his face. Tim wasn't fast enough to doge the hook, which clipped his chin and threw him backwards where he landed on the mat with a soft 'oof'.
Tim shot back up to his feet at lightning speed, shouting "What the hell was that?"
Bruce's face darkened even more, something Tim didn't even think was possible. "You have to be better. I shouldn't have been able to take you down that quickly."
"Better?!" Tim was fired up now. "Better at what? I work my butt off every single day with you just so I can barely meet your unattainable standards for Robin. I don't know what else you expect from me!"
"You have to be perfect. On the streets of Gotham, you can't make a mistake. We're talking about your life, Tim. I don't know why you're so eager to throw it away."
"Because you need me. You have to have a Robin, and Robins make mistakes Bruce."
"And then they die."
Oh.
Crap.
Today is the anniversary…
Like Jason."
"Bruce I'm so sorry, I totally forgot-"
"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "Go home for today Tim. Don't come back tonight." Bruce strode to the computer and fired up a casefile Batman had been working on.
"Are you going out?"
"That is none of your business. Now leave. I won't tell you again."
Tim put his hands up in surrender. He wasn't looking for a fight with Bruce. Not today. "Ok, ok. Just…be safe Bruce." He retrieved his motorcycle, kicked up the kickstand, and, with an apprehensive glance back towards his mentor, headed back the way he had come.
The manor phone rang at 11pm at night.
Alfred slowly stood up from the Batcave computer's main control chair to reach the earnestly ringing home telephone. Who on earth is calling at this hour?
The name of the caller designated that it was a certain young man telephoning the manor, knowing that its occupants would still be awake. "Hello, Master Timothy."
"Hi Alfred. Is Bruce 'out'?"
"Yes, he is out working tonight. Did you wish to speak with him?"
"No, I just wanted to make sure he wasn't there before I come over. I wanted to get in the training that I couldn't this morning. I'll see you soon!"
The phone line went dead. Alfred smiled to himself, then turned his attention back to Batman's radio transmissions.
Tim had just finished his final set of 40 weighted pull-ups when the Batmobile squealed into the cave. Tim quickly leapt behind a weight machine, but he needn't have bothered with the caution. Batman jumped out of the car quickly and headed to the changing rooms, not even giving the rest of the cave a second glance.
Seizing the opportunity, Tim made a break for his motorcycle. He got as far as grabbing the handlebars before Bruce's voice filled the cave.
"I thought I told you to stay away tonight."
Tim's head whipped around to see Bruce in the mouth of the changing room door, cowl down but still in his suit. Blood ran down the side of his face from a cut on his temple, making for a more gruesome scene than Tim was expecting.
"Oh my God Bruce, what happened?"
"Nothing of immediate concern. I want to know why you came back, even when I expressly told you to stay home tonight."
"I needed to get in more training today." Tim twisted his hands, nervous about the ensuing conversation.
Bruce sighed. "Tim…"
"Look," Tim interjected, "I know today is the day Jason died. I know that my being Robin scares you. But I know you know that you need have a partner, and right now I am the best man for the job. You don't have to like it, but I am here to stay for now, and it would be better for the both of us if you would just man up and accept it."
Bruce was silent.
Tim looked him in the eyes. "I am going to do everything in my power to stay alive, to continue the job my predecessor can no longer do. But I can't help you if you don't let me."
Tim stared him down, daring him to argue with his infallible logic.
"Ok."
Wait what?
"Wait seriously? You agree with me?"
"Don't get used to it. You do have a point this time, however." Bruce left Tim with his mouth hanging open in shock, making his way to the medical table, where Alfred was patiently waiting. "Jason was a hard loss, but he is not the first, and by no means the last. I must learn to handle it better than I have been. I'm sorry for taking it out on you. Now go home and go to bed."
Tim knew a dismissal when he saw one. Swinging one leg over his motorcycle, he grabbed the handlebars and turned the key.
"Tim?"
He turned back around to look at Bruce.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Robin."
Tim grinned, and sped out of the cave.