Tim rounded the corner, eager to put his recent pay into the stash they'd been squirreling away. He froze in place, cash in hand and camera around his neck to find Catherine on hands and knees going through their stuff that littered Jason's floor.

It would have been hard to tell if Catherine wasn't there. Tim wasn't the neatest and it had the added benefit of driving Jason up a wall. She was never seen in Jason's room, especially since Tim took over the floor. "Hi?" Catherine jumped, head whipping back to Tim.

"Oh, Tim." Her hand rested on her chest with a tremor. "You frightened me."

"Sorry." He stashed the cash in his back pocket and took the camera from around his neck. "Just came back from taking some pictures. Thought I'd return the camera. Where's Jason?"

"Probably buried under all this mess." Her laugh was unsteady, too high pitched. "He mentioned about visiting a friend. He was going to stop by a florist, so maybe it is some girl. Did he mention anything to you?" Tim shook his head. He knew very well who it was, and it wasn't a girl. He probably enjoyed talking cars with a headstone. All in all, Jason could use the break.

"Anyway," she got to her feet. "I best take a break from tidying up. If you're not careful, clutter like this will mess with your head."

"I'll tidy up." He promised as she brushed her hands and hurried out, not looking him in the eye. With narrowed eyes, he watched her flee to the kitchen. When she was out of sight, he closed the door, pushed the piles of clothes and books and CDs away, loosened the floor board and pulled out the pile of cash. He counted it twice before adding his. It was all there.

"Odd." He considered moving it again, just to be safe, but then he'd have to explain it to Jason. How could he do that without making it sound like he was accusing her? And of all people, this was Catherine. When would she ever do a thing like that?

They come home from school to suitcases by the front door. Tim freezes. He recognizes it all too well. About a month of avoiding each other, that argument the night before, and this is what he gets in return. As if Jack hadn't done enough already?

Tim whirled around to find his father all dressed to go. He felt like that little kid again. He felt phantom splinters in his cheek. "You're leaving again?" He sounded smaller than he looked, which Jason did not think possible.

Jack simply walked past him on his way to collect his stack of books off the table. Tim followed on his heel. Catherine and Jason followed with their eyes. "It's business, Tim."

"You're leaving again." Tim accused, fists balling at his sides.

"I couldn't get out of it." Jack told him as he slipped his coat on.

"You mean you didn't want to!" He wasn't six or ten anymore. He wasn't just going to take it and accept it anymore. Because… because… "You promised, Dad!" His eyes narrowed. "You promised when mom died! When you woke up in the hospital! You said things are going to be different! And, now… now, you're leaving again!"

"Honestly, Timothy, this is business. It's important!"

"What about your promise? What about me? I'm not important? God, dad! Why can't I ever get you to stay? What is it you want from me? Just tell me! Why am I never enough for you to just be there? Why am I never enough?"

"You've made it quite clear you'd like me to leave!" The anger and frustration warred with the obvious devastation.

"But, I didn't…"

"You've made it very clear I'm not needed or wanted, especially when you've got Bruce Wayne to step in." Jack sneered.

"That's not fair!" Tim cried. "At least Bruce cares about me! At least he's been there for me! That's more than you've ever even tried to do!"

"I've had it with this attitude, boy."

"So, that's it. It got a little tough so you run away? Because you can't handle me! Because you never wanted to! You never have! You never tried! So, you'll just leave me again like you always do! Another broken promise! I bet it isn't even a business trip! I bet you've had the brochures hidden away in some drawer for months! And…" He turned to Jason. "I'd bet anything, that's where the missing several hundred went!" He blocked his father's path to the door.

"Timothy Jackson, you stop this tantrum right now!"

"Or you'll what?" They were Jason's words that flew from his mouth, that same challenge. He didn't want to stop. He couldn't stop. Too much was left unsaid over the years. "You'll take your goddamn bags and books and leave me again?" He hit his father's books out of his hands.

He had no time for shock as the hand came down, striking hard and fast and knocking him to the ground…

A strangled cry offered enough distraction for Jack to grab his bag. The door slammed behind him, but they hardly heard it over the tears that flooded Catherine's eyes.

Jason knew what she was thinking. She probably saw everything he did, every helpless memory flashing before her eyes. Suddenly, Jason wasn't sure who to go to first, who to comfort, who to protect.

In the scheme of things, Tim Drake knew exactly where he stood when it came to his father. In the end, it's where he always stood. Why did he think this time would be any different?

Tim's wrist ached from breaking his fall and the side of his face stung. He remained on the floor, eyes closed and head resting against the coolness of the kitchen cabinets. Catherine did nothing. He wasn't sure what he expected her to do. If Janet were alive, he was sure the most he'd get from her is a cool reprimand for his behavior and a long list of why Jack was an awful husband. But, then, Catherine made him think, made him believe… she had a different way about her. He stared after her as she disappeared into her room, half pleading. For what, he wasn't entirely sure. Someone to make him feel like he wasn't so alone. That he wasn't the one in the wrong.

"I will break every one of his fingers!" Jason, on the other hand, threw a dirty look over his shoulder when Catherine fled and ranted and paced in front of Tim. "I will end him!"

"Jason, don't!" Bruise forming and cheek bleeding, tears leaked down Tim's face. The irony was not lost on Jason. Something in him burned. He couldn't stand the way Catherine and Tim defended him still.

"Don't?" Jason spat. "Don't what?" Tim refused to look away and Jason wished he would. The despair in his eyes was too painfully familiar. He knew what it was like to be where Tim sat. With a glance back over his shoulder to Catherine's closed door, he knew it in more ways than one.

He felt himself tremble. He wished he could say it was more for the anger, but anger was safety. It was safer than where Tim sat at least. He forced it from his mind, trying to plant himself in the present. Tried to stifle the shaking of his hands, the rough swallowing, the ghost bruises and phantom pains. "How could you…" His fingers dug into the palms of his hands to keep them from swinging at Tim.

"Just don't, Jason." Tim couldn't hide the crack in his voice. His chin rose, ready to take any hit Jason might throw, but his shoulders slumped in defeat. "He's not coming back any time soon, if he's coming back at all. Just let it go."

"Let it go?" Jason wrenches open the freezer, instead. "He hit you!" He throws the peas to the floor in front of Tim, harder then necessary. Ignoring the way Tim flinches, he grabs a seat next to him.

"I was there." Tim snaps, pressing the peas to the side of his face. "I don't need more than one reminder." He hissed at the cold. "How's Catherine?"

"Better than you." Jason snorts in disbelief. The kid is the one sitting there injured. Catherine was the one to abandon him. Yet, still, he cares more for someone else's well-being. "You are the one he hit." Jason feels the need to remind him. Tim merely glares in reply.

Sometime during the night, Tim's head went from Jason's shoulder to using Jason's legs as a pillow. Catherine's door opened with a creek. Normally quiet and unobtrusive, but the silence made it louder. His eyes narrowed protectively, ready to defend the kid when his mother approached, head turned to the side in an unasked question.

Jason put a finger to his lips and indicated to Tim. She nodded her consent and knelt to the floor in front of them. She peered closely at the wounds. "That looks bad."

"No worse than we've seen before." Her bottom lip trembles and he bites back a sigh or anything else that will upset her further. There were moments when he was younger that he hated her just as much as Willis. It takes a lot of energy he doesn't have to push that feeling aside, to remind himself she can't protect herself much less anyone else. Some part of him hurts, though. He thought she was getting better. Thought the last six months where she played mom meant something.

"Did you have him put ice on this?" He gives her a look and she looks away. She didn't just get to pick and choose her mom moments. Either she was or she wasn't. "Right, sorry. I should know you have it handled by now." She gets up and dusts off her dress. "Shall we get the two of you to bed? Or the couch at least?" She offers a hand. "The floor isn't the most comfortable."

"I can handle it." He detangles himself from the kid, refuses the hand, and manages to carry the still sound asleep kid to his nest on Jason's floor, leaving Catherine alone in the dark kitchen.