This here is the first chapter of Tim's slow descent into insanity. And possibly his salvation. I'm going to probably put Tim/Jason in here. It's... one of my favorite Tim pairings. :D Though I do love me some Tim/Conner. HOWEVER. For all purposes of this fiction, Conner and Bart and Stephanie will be dead. And stay that way.

I hope you like this fic! It's going to all be written in the present tense. ENJOY AND REVIEW. And tell me what you think about this in those reviews! :D

Disclaimer: All characters are property of DC comics.

Tim isn't sure if this dinner Dick proposed is to compensate for the fact that he had been fired. Whether it is or not, he is very confused as to why he attended. He can't really stand Dick at the moment and he can stand Damian even less.

But, then, Alfred had been the one to call and ask (though Tim had changed apartments since then).

"Welcome back, bro!"

Tim wants to tell Dick that they're not brothers anymore. But he doesn't. Dick just looks so happy and Tim has ruined enough lives (including his own, many times over) for one lifetime.

Alfred looks pleased to see him and at least Time can give the old man that much. Damian, however, looks even more sour than he usually does. Tim takes particular pleasure in this. The left corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk and Damian scowls further.

Dinner is filled with Dick trying to get Tim to divulge where he lives and Tim avoiding questions. Damian spits insults every now and again.

There is a moment where Tim feels as if he will vomit. He stands and excuses himself to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He washes his hands to be safe and stares at himself in the mirror.

My hair is getting too long.

He is breathlessly grateful when Conner opens the bathroom door.

"How'd you get in here?"

Conner waggles his eyebrows. "A Super knows no bounds, right?"

Tim smiles.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. 'Course I am. Trying to find a way to tell Dick that Bruce is alive. I have proof, found it in Ira—"

"Tim?" Dick's voice makes him stop and blink. "Who are you talking to? You okay?"

He wants to tell Dick that he was talking to Conner, didn't he ever pay attention, but Conner wasn't there. Tim's eyes flicked around the bathroom. He swallowed and rubbed his temples. Tears pricked uncomfortably at his eyelids.

"I'm fine. Just. Talking to myself." He needs sleep, he thinks. He's been missing too much sleep. He must be desperately tired if he thinks Conner would just show up. He is dead, after all.

Dick pushes the door open. "Have you been sleeping?"

Tim considers lying. But this is a perfect excuse to leave the awkward dinner. "Not well. I think I'm going to go catch up on that sleeping thing now. Thanks for dinner, Dick." He moves past his former brother (now traitor) but Dick catches his shoulder.

"We'll... need to do this again soon. See each other, I mean."

Tim stares at him. Nods once. "Sure."

He goes home, washes his hands once, and goes to bed.

It is no surprise to him that he sleeps poorly.