Please Don't Throw Me Away, a batman fanfic

Written for Afewnovelideas on Tumblr,

A special thanks and hugs to Batman-Defeats-All for the beta XD

They had found him, it had taken far too long, but they had found him, and he was alive. Drugged beyond coherence, but alive.

To their credit, the Titans hadn't told them that Tim had been captured on one of their missions for a day and a half, because they thought that they could handle it themselves. They were wrong, and until then none of them had ever seen Batman mad; they had now.

Bruce had spent a thorough twenty minutes shouting at them, and though it was not nearly long enough to let them know the severity of their actions, it was a twenty minutes he seriously regretted, because the delay had meant it took them longer to find Tim.

All in all Tim was in the hands of the enemy for a week. A WEEK. Seven days; one hundred and sixty eight hours; ten thousand and eighty minutes; six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds... but who's counting?

It was one of the worst weeks of their lives. On par with the week after Ethiopia, or Two-Face, or Jason coming back to life and trying to kill everyone, or The Black Glove or the week Ra's al Gaul tried to use Damian to resurrect himself. It was one whole week fraught with worry and a hell of a lot of bribes to get Tim back, that stretched his sources thin but it at least made one thing clear... You don't mess with Batman's sons; these newbies to the criminal game sure knew that now.

Especially as they had been beaten half to hell, because Bruce had counted at least five smashed ribs, a broken femur, tibia, right ulna and radius and a crushed hand, and that was only the obvious injuries. He had no doubt that Tim had internal bleeding and some damage to his lungs if his laboured breathing was anything to go by.

It all pointed to one thing; his son had been tortured.

And it hurt Bruce to have to move him, and as careful as he was; it hurt Tim more, not that he complained... Tim never complained. Even though he should... Tim had a lot that he could complain about that he should complain about endlessly; everyone else would- but not Tim, and Bruce couldn't tell if that was because Tim was too nice, or because he had been conditioned to sit down and shut up.

It was a relief to get Tim safe and secure in the Batmobile, where its suspension will give Tim at least a little bit of rest from his injuries despite being jostled.

"Hey Tim, Timmy" he hadn't called Tim Timmy in a long time, but it calmed him down when Dick used the nickname, surely it should work for him. "you can't fall asleep just now, okay? You need to stay awake for me" Tim turned to him, a spark in his eyes that Bruce had never seen before. It was a sharpness, a crisp ice like tint to his blue blue eyes.

"I can do anything you need Bruce" his voice was so quiet that Bruce, for a moment, thought he had misheard Tim, because the conviction that he did hear made Bruce seem more like Tim's owner than his almost father.

Despite Tim's best efforts it was less than a minute before his eye lids were drooping again. So Bruce tries a different, more underhanded approach; the guilt trip, "Hey Timmy, you can't fall asleep okay; you don't know how worried we've been, especially Dick, he hasn't left the cave in a week and he's just been sitting in the chair he's that worried about you tha-"

He's cut off by a small laugh that rattles through the Batmobile, and turns his head to Tim just in time to see Tim's good hand being stuffed into his mouth to silence him. "Timmy?"

He weights his voice with the amount of command he has when they're out on the streets, because everyone listens to that voice (well everyone except Alfred), and Tim's hand retreats, albeit slowly, like he's testing the waters for something. "Timmy?" This time he's more forceful.

"It's, it's okay Bruce you don't have to lie to me, I can stay awake" that makes him turn the auto pilot on, and open a one way recording of the conversation because- this was about to get interesting.

"Lie about what Tim?"

"Dick, being worried about me, it's okay, I know he's not... You don't have to try to make me feel better,"

He shouldn't pry, but he had to keep Tim talking and coherent; because Tim had track marks on his arms and who knows what they pumped him full of and what that would do to him if he fell asleep. He should have changed the subject to something like who Tim thinks is going to be the new mayor, because Tim was always into that sort of thing.

But he doesn't… does that make him a bad person (or worse than he already is)?

"What makes you think that Dick doesn't worry about you Tim?" Tim, even in his drugged state, gives him the look that says 'I can't believe you just asked that'.

"Is- Isn't it obvious? No, no, you've been away… it's okay… you won't know…" Bruce took a breath, reminding himself not to get impatient with this Tim, because Tim was usually so 'on it', so present, that he would sometimes not even have to say anything and Tim would have an answer straight away… this Tim was exasperating to say the least.

"I wouldn't know what Tim?"

"Dick… Dick he, he's never really been worried about me. He… from the beginning he's just thought of me as a necessary nuisance. Because- he must have seen what I saw… that Batman needed a Robin… and I was just convenient, and you decided to train me so he- he just went with it.

"But when you were… gone… he just replaced me, as though I meant nothing, was nothing. And now he can't even look at me without disapproval in his eyes, not that we see each other all that much, he's far too busy to see me these days.

"Far too busy to be worried,"

Even with the cowl on he could tell that Tim's eyes were completely glazed over as they stared out at nothing in particular. It was as if he wasn't completely there… and he probably wasn't; but the flat, monotone way he talked was nothing short of creepy, but entirely believable.

"Tim, what did they drug you with?"

"I'm… I'm not entirely sure… I-" Tim stopped and again raised his hand to silence him. Shaking slightly, Tim turned completely away from him.

"Tim!" and that wasn't anything Batman like, but father like, something he wasn't sure Tim would respond to, but he did, though he talked at about a hundred miles an hour;

"I think it was some sort of truth serum. They kept injecting me and then asking me questions about everything… everyone; like who I was, who you were… the League, the Titans… but I wouldn't answer… so they just injected me with more and more of the stuff… and they kept asking… and I almost couldn't stop myself… but I did… you have to believe me, please Da- Batman please you have to believe me I would die before I told them anything…"

Tim almost called him dad… Tim had never called him dad before, or even father; had he wanted to? Bruce had been sure that Tim hadn't wanted him to replace his real, biological, father… but, Tim had almost called him dad under a truth serum: that had to mean something right?

He thumbs the safety mechanisms on his cowl; he has to get it off, to stop looking at Tim through digital lens tainted eyes and to just look at his son.

He takes Tim's cowl off also; revealing slightly damp and wrinkly, but otherwise unharmed skin underneath.

Bruce's main focus, however, is Tim's tearing, needy eyes.

They're dilated and bloodshot, almost none of his usual icy blue iris' could be seen and they were virtually rolling into the back of his head with a glazed expression.

"Tim, son, you need to stay focused" Bruce reaches to cradle Tim and draw him into his chest but he flinches still. Tim's been hurt enough, he didn't need Bruce hurting him even more.

"It's okay Bruce... they broke the bones on the first day, I think I passed out then but I've gotten used to it by now, in fact they've already started healing. I'm not going to break if you hug me; I'm in no more pain than usual,"

Bruce is sure he just spluttered; Batman does not splutter. "No more hurt than usual! Tim, you have a broken leg, a broken arm, a crushed hand and at least five broken ribs-" oh… and he breathes, calms himself down; because getting irate at Tim isn't going to do anything to help the situation. "Tim, when you're injured you're supposed to call in, not patrol, get Alfred or Leslie to look at it. You're not supposed to carry on as though nothing's wrong; you're just going to hurt yourself more that way…

"You're just going to get yourself killed.

"And I don't think I can deal with losing you" Bruce felt as though his heart was about to be unceremoniously ripped out of his chest. How had they gotten here? To a place where his son is closing himself off and trying to work himself to death?

"I- I know, I'm sorry- you need me- to stay useful, I'm no use if I can't patrol, there's no reason to keep me around if I'm no use. I'll do better, just please don't fire me as well."

"Please don't throw me away"

Dick shot straight to the cave when he got the message that Bruce had found Tim. To be perfectly honest, he was surprised he wasn't already in the cave (he had been in there non-stop all week, pacing and trying, but failing, to be useful) but he had taken one of those Alfred prescribed showers, food and nap breaks that keep them sane. So he wasn't, and by the time he had been woken and made it down to the cave, they were already on their way back;

"-You need to stay awake for me"

"I can do anything you need Bruce," Tim sounded so lost, so defeated, so small. Like a child playing by themselves in a park, or a puppy that has lost its owner. Bruce is talking but he doesn't pay attention until he hears his name,

"…Dick, he hasn't left the cave in a week and he's just been sitting in the chair he's that worried about you tha-"

And that's Tim's laugh, Tim's short but sweet and kind of cute giggle.

"It's, it's okay Bruce you don't have to lie to me, I can stay awake"

He wanted to activate the comm to the car; but Bruce had switched it to a one way recoding mode; he could hear the car from the cave but the car couldn't hear him.

"Dick, being worried about me, it's okay, I know he's not... You don't have to try to make me feel better,"

That makes his stomach flip and his mouth open in a gaping manner.

"What makes you think that Dick doesn't worry about you Tim?"

"Is- Isn't it obvious? No, no, you've been away… it's okay… you won't know…"

"I wouldn't know what Tim?"

"Far too busy to be worried"

He just wanted to switch it off, to mute it because he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't bear to listen to Tim pointing out everything he's done wrong, he can't bear to hear that Tim took them all to heart, and that he didn't say something… he just thought that Tim didn't and never cared about him.

How could Tim think that?

He couldn't really think that, could he? It wasn't until he heard the words 'truth serum' that he pushed away from the console and threw up.

Tim- Tim thought he didn't care, thought he never cared; had he really screwed up so much that his little brother thought he didn't love him?

Obviously he did, and it hurt Dick's heart, it felt like someone was coming punching him over and over in his gut; like he was the volunteer at a magic show gone wrong and was getting swords slowly stuck through him.

It hurt; but that was nothing compared to Tim as he heard Bruce read off his list of injuries that hurt no more than usual. Tim had been hurting and he hadn't noticed; he really was a failure as a brother.

Tear flowed freely down his cheeks as Alfred emerged from the stairs already in overalls and the Batmobile slowed to a stop.

"Alfred!" Bruce didn't look around the cave as he jumped out of the car and ran round to the opposite side.

"Right here Master Bruce,"

He reached into the Batmobile and carefully lifted Tim out, cradling him in his arms, "Prep for surgery, Tim's bones have already started healing in the wrong places and it's going to take more than just re-breaking them to put it right"

"Right away sir?"

"Yes, Alfred, I'm afraid to wait longer… I think he may have some rib splinters near his lungs,"

"But what if the anaesthetic reacts with the drug,"

"It… it's a chance we have to take Dick,"

A chance that led to three hours of nail-biting waiting as Alfred repaired Tim's bones one by one, with all the metal plates inserted to help the fusing process, Tim definitely won't be going through any airport security.

"I have done as much as I can… shall I wake him Master Bruce?" The decision was a difficult one, Tim just looked so peaceful under general anaesthesia, but that anaesthesia could be doing lasting damage that he just couldn't risk.

"Yes Alfred, please."

It was a hour before Tim was fully awake again and Bruce was already going over the analysis of Tim's blood, whereas Dick was sitting by Tim's bedside so afraid that if he moved Tim would somehow disappear or die.

The truth serum itself wasn't very complicated; but the dosages used made it all the more potent.

"The drug should be out of Tim's system in twelve hours or so, but its effects will last for the next couple of days at least" Bruce said as he moved back to a groggy Tim's bedside, "You going to be okay?"

The boy tried to move but the weight of the casts and his general dizziness Tim always experienced, after being put under, stopped him. "I think so…"

"Is there anything you want Tim, I can go and get it or-"

"NO!" Tim shouted; he hadn't heard Tim shout when it wasn't giving orders in the field for a long time.

"Tim?" Bruce replied as Dick simultaneously jumped into Tim's eye line at his start.

"I- I just don't want to be alone… please don't leave me" tears slid down Tim's face as he shook with fear.

Tim grasped at the shirt he had changed into mouthing please at him, "I'm not going anywhere"

"I'm sorry… it's just I've been alone for so long and even now you back I- I'm sorry," Dick immediately started to comb his hand through Tim's hair, making shushing noises that seemed to calm the teenager down dramatically. Bruce still had to figure out how he did that; but for now he settled down in his chair, determined to stay for however long Tim needed him there for.

As Tim finally stopped crying he looked back at them in earnest "I'm sorry for being such a failure" and that was the worst part of sitting there. It was one thing to have suspicions about how Tim feels, it's another to hear those suspicions form the mouth of his broken son.

It's as if Tim didn't say anything, if he wasn't under the effects of a truth serum; that this would all go away, that it wasn't real… that they hadn't made him feel this way.

But then they'd just be lying to themselves. They had all in some way seen Tim's downwards spiral, seen how lost he was, seen how he was searching for something, or someone to hold on to.

And none of them became that person for him. As much as his actions begged for it; they just couldn't make any sacrifices for Tim.

"Tim, I don't think you could fail if you tried," Dick was trying to joke, trying to lighten the mood, his plan backfired: spectacularly.

"School" Tim whispered "Steph, Jack, Kon, Bart, Bruce, You, Cassie, Steph again, Tam, Ra's, Boomerang," Dick was probably a few seconds off either throwing something against a wall or enveloping Tim in a hug he would struggle to get out from.

"You listen to me, Tim?! You listen. You. Did. Not. Fail. Anyone. Okay?! What happened wasn't your fault, you couldn't stop it."

"Yes it was. It was my fault, if I was quicker, better- I need to be better, useful… then you won't throw me away again, then maybe you'd look at me like I'm your brother and not some pity case" Tim was close to hyperventilation, and Dick's presence wasn't helping,

Obviously shaken by Tim's words Dick retreated from the med corner, "I'll, I'll be over on the bars"

Tim's grip on his shirt didn't slacken as Bruce too tried to give the teen space. "I'm sorry for failing you, I just can't take it anymore…" He turned back to the gurney and Tim's blue blue eyes wide and sincere "I- sometimes I just- pause- when someone gets close enough… or when someone aims in my direction, because sometimes it would be- easier- than carrying on. Sometimes I hesitate, and then someone else takes a blow for me, and I realise I can't go the easy way… it's not fair on everyone else, the- difficulties it would cause." Tim wouldn't stop talking and the keen from across the cave told him that Tim's agitated words were getting louder and louder. "But sometimes I thought about it; about seeing everyone again… when my nightmares got really bad, or you all would just be there when I was running on no sleep; and it was like old times, and there you were gone… and I was alone again and- I thought about it.

"I thought about joining you" Harsh, violent sobs racked Tim's too small body and Bruce just had to, he really did. He couldn't let Tim continue to suffer, not when he thought he was all alone.

So he gathered his son in his arms and hugged him tightly in a way that would minimise hurt but maximise contact.

"Tim, Timmy, shh. It's okay, I'm here now, we all are, we're all back and you don't have to be alone anymore, you can join us now, in person." Tim melted into the embrace and-

That is something that has never happened before, Tim had always been so stiff whenever Bruce had touched him; it was like he had been afraid of touch, or just so used to the only physical contact he was given being that of criminals or training, that of hurt and pain, that Tim didn't know how to react to comfort, or love.

Bruce made an oath to touch Tim as much as possible, whether it be a hug or merely a hand on a shoulder… no one should stiffen when someone hugs them. But now, now Tim was very much like a cat in how he snuggled into Bruce's arms. He was still sobbing but it just seemed- less somehow.

"I love you Tim, don't you ever think differently." Tim looked up at him, sad in a way, but also happy if that was possible,

"I love you too, Dad"