This is a family fic and despite the first scenes it's not meant to be exactly angsty or such. It's more to capture the dynamics of a family brought together from a patchwork of different backgrounds and trying to function as a unit, each with different dynamics in relation to each other, with some Bat-tastic-ness thrown in. Cause its friggin sweet.

I bought the actual Red Robin series last weekend, looooove it. A lot of the flashbacks and past plot will be cannon. Quotes and conversations will be actual scripts and if you've read the series then you'll be right along with some of the thought processes but don't worry if you haven't. This is its own story. I've read a lot of the comics for all series and am using actual dialog, mostly.

The determination pulsing like a fist punching his heart in time with the beat, and coupled with the slight thrill singing down Red Robins spine. Not foreign but never underestimated. Tim had done things like this before, things like dangling his own life as bright bait.

The man standing across from him, feet firmly planted, let out a drawn hiss of what should have been pain but was laced with poisonous delight. The edges of Red Robins mind where starting to blur, growing hazy as his life seeped out in red life blood. But he had to keep going, for the sake of the game.

The news reported that an unknown attack or fight took place on Romulus Roberts' territory. All the police knew what large amounts of blood belonging to unknown persons was found under the Black Bridge. Famous in Roberts's territory for being used as a suicide spot and a convent place to dump bodies. The rushing river of the Washington emptied outs into Gotham harbor and into the ocean.

Either side of the river was flanked by the concrete slabs of the bridge, forming a small stand on, generally for drug dealers and tradeoffs. It was on the Slats of the Black Bridge that a passer-by noticed two large pools of Black Liquid. Each on opposing Slats. If it had been any other civilian it would have been thrown in the file 'dunno not my business' and stored away.

For Officer Paris Jacobs it was another story, a possible Crime scene. And let it never be said that Gotham law enforcers don't have balls of steal, in fact they're known for it. So right in the yard of the powerful Roberts Gang an investigation was opened up. Roberts himself was suspiciously quiet but it didn't matter, the case was closed almost immediately. There was no evidence.

Because four hours earlier in the pale blue dawn of Gotham, Batman had taken the most important piece of evidence. Red Robin or rather his adopted ward Timothy Drake.

Cities away Richard Greyson sat with a stiff neck and heavy and tiered eyes. The standard issue desk chair had made his legs and back sore hours ago. Dick knew the aspects that came with being a Police detective, but it was more...adultish then sometime he thought he could handle. It was odd but sometimes putting on the mask was like take a deep breath for the first time that day.

And sometimes the baggage was too much for any one man, it seemed to balance somehow. Dick leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes; Bludhaven had been the Las Vegas of the east coast for years now. Filled with both the high life and lowest of the low. The cops here where no joke and Dick honestly never expected to make it this far in the force. It was...eye opening to see a city's crime as an officer rather than the masked vigilante that avoided the cops.

Dick of course, did both. Dick opened his eyes and leaned forward to study the face that shown from his monitor screen. Jack Douson, seen in Bludhaven, Gotham and Star City in the past four months. His motives where unknown but everyone seemed to be aware his was affiliated with something big and then- BAM nothing. Not a word or a trace of the kid. Missing.

Word was that something huge was about to go down with him at the center of it somehow. Looks like whatever it was someone didn't want it to happen. Dick arched his back in a stretch

RING

Startled Dick dove for his phone, "Officer Grayson-" Dick listened for a moment, the tired gears in his head picking up pace. "It's Drake, he's hurt." Damian's flat tone informed him. "Father said we need you here." Dick stared down blankly at the papers sprawled across his desk. Bruce wouldn't call him for a just scratch or even a broken limb. This was serious, Dick steeled himself.

"On my way," Dick's voice was steady but he wobbled slightly as he slammed down the phone and sprung to his feet.

"Oi! Grayson what's up?" Dick turned to Officer Addison who was looking at his with sleepy curiosity.

"Sorry rookie, 'fraid not. Family issue." Dick smiled tightly.

"Hmm, thought maybe you managed to pull of another miracle find, like you always do." Addison murmured. "Must be nice to take off when you want."

Dick gathered his things, as a detective and not just a cop as long as Dick was working the case he wasn't tracked by the department. Made his job as Nightwing easier. Working as a cop and having to explain his absences had been hard. And now he got to wear his own clothes vs. the cop uniform. "Tell the chief ill call her if I get anything." Dick called. "Sure thing." Addison called after him. "Hope whatever it is works out man!"

The moment Dick was out of the building he made a mad sprint for his bike. His heart pounded and his mind circled through how much faster he could go if he had the same toys as Batman, things like the hover ship. He briefly considered going full Nightwing and taking the Knightbike but no, changing would take too long.

Dick's bike hummed underneath him as he ripped down the roads, his minds filled with with twisted images of the boy that lived the legacy Dick had passed on. Tim's small figure and bright energy that had once filled his role as Robin, now Dicks imagination tainted the images with flashes of blood and the ever haunting image the burned a shadow in the back of his mind.

A casket and an unmoving body of a Robin no more. Jason. He was back now, Dick didn't know if that made it better or worse.

'Dear God not again,' Dick rarely prayed but for this one chance he offered a plea to any god damned thing that might hear. 'Not another one.' Dick left the city he claimed as his own behind and sped towards the one that had made him it's.

'We can't take this again.'

Batman slid his cowl back; electric blue eyes never leaving the monitor as he fed in information and it spewed it back out. The monitor rolled thought information; the smallest bit of data could be the line between putting the puzzle together and a horrible truth. Bruce's jaw tightened in a way that could mean anything from 'I'm going to beat the evil out of you,' to 'where's my morning paper?' Bruce was funny that way.

The machine made a low pitch wine and Damian watched as his father's heavy footsteps took him over to the left screen. The numbers and cyphers that dutifully reported seemed reluctant, as if their job was difficult today. The heavy silence in the cave was a constant presence like an old friend, this time however the silence was heavy with the weight of unspoken words. As if the lack of noise was bearing down on the inhabitance of the cave walls , the silence often resided in.

Damian's cool blue eyes slid over to the doll like figure on the metal slab next to the medical machinery. The operating table had seen more than its fair share of use at the bloody hands of the Bat's over the years. Robin to Robin with Batman in between, it had been the station for boo boo's and pain. The metal table was the stopping point between end of patrol and trudging up to bed.

Now the unmoving figure of Red Robin made its cold metal seem like the unforgiving solid of an undertakers embalming table. Ready to support the unmoving corpses that took one last bout with its surface.

Red Robin

Timothy Drake

The one Damian had shoved aside to claim his place, to make the father he never met claim him. The only human being that Damian had truly put all his blood into killing, and the only human to live. Now Drake was so close to the grave that even the green lighted reading of the machines father had hooked Drake into with a vengeance, almost weren't enough to convince Damian that Drake lived on.

Pathetic.

The machines didn't seem to be convincing Father either, every couple of minutes his gloved finger jammed the button that printed out Drakes vitals.

Pathetic

Greyson would be here soon, from what Damian understood of all of this Dick would be distraught and angry. A bitter combination of his inner bat and the circus brat this still made up his fundamentals.

Pathetic.

The bandages that wrapped Drake from shoulder to wrist where telling. The ripped off cloth where his sleeves had been, showed Pennyworths often startling strength. Damian's father jammed the same button again. Damian wanted to kill something.

Drake had beaten him to it.

Suicide.

Pathetic.

"My son, in this world to take a life is an accomplishment when your mission has been completed. To have your prey take its own life is a victory." Mothers soothing voice, from when Damian had been very small, her soft tones lulling her son. "When the prey takes its own life it is because it knew that its end was inevitable and thus you defeated them by existing. That is a proud existence.

Damian clenched his jaw.

Damian hadn't been there to see it but he really hadn't needed to be, Damian opened his mouth to tell Father to stop pushing the goddamned button because we can all see what's on the screens, you're being stupid over nothing!" The quiet hiss of the door to the mansion sliding open and light, solid footsteps smoothly pressing down the stairs made Damian closed his eyes and take a deep breath. He didn't want Greyson mad at him after all. Not Greyson.

For Damian the future had always been uncertain, now it seemed like whatever happened from now on out was going to be a… drag.

Dick paused to breathe in deeply to calm his lungs and heart but the sense of wrongness persisted. For one Alfred was nowhere to be found, and the quiet of the house bore heavily. The familiar track to the cave always made Dick feel like he was stepping from one world to another.

From human to hero.

The turn of the stone stairs revealed the scene from a distance, Damian in his outfit, sitting on a table. Batman was pacing slightly around his computer. Dick's wrongness sense was tingling on full panic now, Radiating down his spine. It was troublingly close to the thrill of danger.

Dick ignored both Bruce and Damian turning to look at him and his eye swept past until they landed on the prize. An unmoving body.

Dead. Not again

Dick moved to Tim's side swiftly, at the beginning it had scared him how small Tim was. Then it amused him, how Tim acted as if he was the biggest person in the world. Now Dick was scared again. Dick could see the bandages and tubes and wires, the machine that insisted Tim was alive even though Dick felt it was lying. All those things faded into nothingness as his eyes located the source of-

The Wrongness

Pasted to the remnants of Red robins glove, cemented in his curled fingers with dried blood, was a knife. Dick scolded himself for assuming anything, injured arm and a knife in hand could mean anything. Which might be even more scary. "What type of wound?" Dicks greeting to Bruce.

Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he'd seen Tim hurt. In fact Dick hadn't been around Tim needing help in a long time. The man couldn't say what that meant. He didn't know. Dick felt as if he had missed something.

"Severe subcutaneous lacerations." Bruce hit a button and watched information spew out. He didn't glance at Tim.

"Ten of them" Damian murmured pointedly.

Clues, to find out what really happened. Put the pieces together, never assume.

"Five on each arm." The pause was on purpose, Dick just knew it.

It's never what you first think it is. I'm being unfair to Tim.

"Self-inflicted"

Fuck

Dick watched Bruce's firm large back; it didn't even twitch in his direction. Dick swallowed hard. Bruce once told him, long ago, that he had trained with the best of the best in every area. Using his unnaturally high IQ to absorbed and devour in the information. Bruce had told him that because he wanted Dick to understand that when he came to a conclusion it was often built off of very precise and high end data.

He taught Dick a lot of it and Dick knew what Bruce's not arguing with Damian's declaration, meant. It meant that Wound depth and angle had been noted, the density and shape of the weapon had been simulated. Probable scenarios and likely rundowns had been calculated.

If Bruce wasn't arguing that the wounds came from Tim's own hand it was because all evidence pointed that way.

And the knife sealed in blood in Red Robins hand was probably a clue.

Located in New York, Bruce told him that even he had wondered if the sheer amount of effort going into every detail was necessary. Later Bruce had discovered that Yes, Yes it was. Because the smallest detail could provide a whole new picture.

'There's something that's been missed then. Something that will paint a different picture.' The doubt and mixed feelings between Dick and Tim since Bruce's death seemed to roar up, read to plague him was doubt and uncertainty.

'Do I even know that this is something Tim wouldn't do?' Tim and Dick hadn't called each other brothers since…

Since Dick fired him

It had made sense at the time, Bruce was gone and the child he had claimed, over all the other powerful claims, was left behind. It would have killed Bruce to think that Damian going to grow up alone the way Bruce had. Gotham need Batman and Dick needed to know that Bruce's child was being taken care of.

Becoming Batman and securing Damian as Robin, had been like killing two birds with one stone. Grieving and burdened Dick had thought that with Tim as his equal everyone would be taking a step up. In the chaos of a new existence, it would be months before the severity of his actions would catch up to him.

And even then…

"You said we'd be ok. My entire life has burnt down, again! I don't call this okay Dick.'

"He's my responsibility, now. You're not my protégé, Tim…You're my equal. My closest ally, you'll be okay. But him…Tim you know better than anyone that left on his own he's going to kill someone. Again. You have to understand—"

"No I don't, this is all I have now!"

And then…after that Tim had gone mad.

Bat-shit insane- so to speak.

Right before he vanished he refused to handel Bruce's death, insisting he could bring him back. (How many mad men had they seen try the same thing? Or rather, seen that thing drive them mad.)

"I know how it sounds. I lost everything, I snapped…I know how it sounds. But I know I'm right, Dick. And I'm going to prove it.

He punched out at least 5 of his comrades, Dick, and Damian included. Called Cassie a traitor for asking what he thought about Bruce's death, on Dicks behalf. He could still remember her shaking voice as quiet sobs racked her.

"Please, he needs help."

Dick had almost no idea what happened to Tim in those many months. As if keeping track of one wayward Bat-brat wasn't enough.

Dick strightened his back, steeling himself out of lack of anything better to do. The raven haired man turned to his father, keeping the corner of his eye in sight of Damian. "What happened?" A question worth a million words.

Bruce didn't turn around and it took Dick only a moment to realized that he was purposly not looking in the direction of Tims body. Bruces finger jammed the small back square, head turned to the information the computor was spilling out, relying on the information it provided. Dick watched as Bruce jammed the button almost as soon as the paper stopped spewing numbers. Out of the corner of his eye Dick could see Damian growing tenser and tenser every time Bruces gloved index finger tapped the key.

Damian took it on himself to fill the pressured air. "Father was stalking again. We saw Romulus Roberts's gaurds heading away from the south harbor, we stumbled on Drake by accedent. Under the beam of the Black Bridge." Damian added, the cold tint to his voice showing he knew what the Black Bridge was famous for.

Suicide.

"He wasn't breathing." Damians voice added, his startling blue eye baring into Dick. Bruce hit the button so hard this time, the clack was audible.

Dick felt like the wrongness was a puzzle that just wasn't making a picture. Tim certainly wasn't stupid or even dramatic. Winding up at the bridge might point to the obvious but it just…wasn't Tim's style.

Damians gaze made Dick feel worse, like he was grasping at straws to force the situation to be what he wanted it to be, and Damian knew it.

Dick turned back to Tim, Robin had been small and lean. Tim showed now, more than ever, that he had far outgrown that role. A solid firm body of a boy turned man, the angles of his features turning from child to serious and handsome. Dick closed his eyes.

"What the next step?" his question echoed slightly but he felt himself swell with it. A purpose, thats what he needed, to hunt down clues and find the truth, and maybe just maybe the truth could set everyone here free.

Bruce spoke for the first time "We wait." Both Dick and Damian deflated, Batman himself had no ideas or theories to follow, only the unmoving figure of Red Robin. Dick wondered if he would spend the rest of forever running through his mind wondering 'what the hell?' This was far more serious a situation then he could have thought, and it always stung more when it cut close to home.

In Japan, located in a small shrine in the upper North West mountains of the inner rim, are monks whos predicessors have walked and protected the land for longer than their history recalled. It was there a young man had, in deepest frustration and drive, learned the foundation of what would later become The Batman.

Now that young man, fully grown, maintained the strictiest control, the inner vally held within the chasms of his mind, sheltered a cave that was a replica of one in japan, where Batman became truly feirce. Within that cave, the chips of pieces of Bruce that were the blackened parts of his soul, where carefully tacked up and mainained.

Within the valley that was the serenity of Bruces control, Bruce could firmly maintin and analyze both the world and himself. A monk who called himself Yoru'ne had taught him how to build and keep this retreat inside himself. Bruce always got the impression that Yoru'ne would have more blackness to bare and face than even Batman could ever comprehend.

It was within that cave that both the horrible and breathtaking memories of his greatest pain was stored, Jason in particular took up the back of the cave. Over sdhadowing even the catalist that originally carved the 8 year old Bruce into Batman.

Now Bruce, sitting in a famillar cross legged position felt himself settle within himself, breathing carefully,

Breathe in for 7 counts

He carefully guided himself backwards through the years, firmly trailing his way back to a solitary mountain filled with potential and determiniation. Smoothly stepping into the most beautiful valley Bruce had, and would ever see. Simple and untouched by time it held the serenity within Bruce's soul.

Hold breath for 7 counts

Gently opening, barley wide enough for those willing to brave its darkness, the cave was nestled peacefully within the ancient stone of the towering mountain. The cave was actually submerged ankle deep in cool water, the moss that grew there was called Sushari Moss and acted like a low lamp, bathing the cave in its glow.

Breathe out for 7 counts.

This was the place for the agony and secrets and pain of a human heart. There Bruce carefully examaned, came to terms with, and stored to be protected, his darkness.

Breath in

Sometimes the darkness grew without Bruce realizing and he would have to return to the cave to reconstract its bounderies, but mostly his darkness burned softly in its chosen nooks of the cave.

Breath out.

Now Bruce sumerged his consiousness inside the cave of darkness within the valley of serenity. It was now, submerged within his mind, with cool water lapping at his ankles and the confines of the cave protecting him, did he slowly stop and fully examine and emotions he had tucked aside before.

Breathe in.

It wouldn't be until Bruce had already lost the battle that he realized what had happened. A kid out of no-where was suddnely the biggest threat to both Batman and his son. Armed with knowlage that could tare both of them down, the boy was a lingering worry in an angry dark filled mind. At that time, the darkness carved into Batman's soul by Jasons death was consuming and destorying the mind valley. And Bruce liked it that way.

It wouldn't be until the kid, polite and intelligant as can be, told off Nightwing and everyone else he came in contact with, that Bruce focused for the first time. And it was with bitter irritance. Even being forced to admit that his sons precence was a blessed wash of warmth in his starved existance, wouldn't make him any less threatened by the man-child.

It wasn't until sometime later, holding out a gloved hand and uttering unwilling words

"-To trust me as I'll come to trust you. Then we have a deal .Partner." Bruce realized he had never even really been part of the battle he had just lost, and then with a triumphant Nightwing and Alfred, Bruce had shaken hands with the enemy. With an intruder to the dark shrine of death that Jason's murder was building rapidly in the valley.

This kid is not normal, even by our standards.

That was the mantra in the back of Bruce's mind as the kid was molded through flame and fire. The perfect Robin, and the most frustrating.

Bruce had met his match.

Tim wasn't like the other two, he wasn't Bruce's child or desprate project. He was a completely foreign intruder.

Who was amazing, and just what Batman needed.

Even if he wasn't what Batman had wanted.

Sometimes the kid still managed to shock Bruce into remembering that Tim was no man's chump.

And then Bruce had been lost in time, after so long of fighting to his home. The home that had the memories he fought for, by the time Bruce returned a new Robin was poised and ready.

And Tim….

Bruce had felt the loss, but Damian-

His son…

"Batman needs a Robin! If Nightwing wont do it…well someone has too! You're out of control!" A random punk that was standing in the Batcave like he owned it.

Tim

Bruce carefully sifted and organized the memories, giving them order and sense. Carefully picking out the ones relevant to current events, Dick had always been curious about Bruce's process. All Bruce could tell him that he did it the way the Japanease monks had taught him. Acting as if each memory was a moving photograph, full of events and emotions but still visible for analisis and organization.

There, now smoothed out and laid bare for consiteration, a fragmented timeline.

Starting at the begenning

"Where are you going?" Nightwing had returned for the first time

"I have some theories I want to check out." Cold, the time to be partners was over

"Then I'm coming with you!"

"No! I don't need any partners." Getting In the car but listening for the reply. "Not ever again"

"Why won't he accept help Alfred?"

"He's afraid, afraid that what happened to Jason will happen again"

Bruce closed his eyes

Breathe out

_.

Tim's brain drifted slowly, like new wet concrete pouring slowly and sluggishly. It was more pleasant and frustrating. Tim had to dragingly force his way out a couple of times before, and every time it was a game of wills to force himself to do it.

He had something pressing that he needed to wake up for.

It'salways something.

Even his thought was heavy and exaughsted.

It seemed like there was a whole world, a rather all of Tim's thoughts and memories trying to push their way to consiousness, to force Tim to pay attention but pain was at the front of the assult.

"I have a proposel for you, Mr. Red Robin. A wager, so to speak."

Tim winced in pain as the memory caused him to jerk and upset his wound, drawing him closer to consiousness.

"A gentalmens battle.

The voice was famillar and bizzarly soothing despite the clear dangourus spike to the words.

Tim felt vauge panic as flashes of nonsense and half formed memories shuffled in his head, but nothing really surfaced.

Unsure whether he should give up or be pissed as fuck, Tim finally felt his thoughts sharpen somewhat.

What the hell?

There was something important, he had to know. It all boiled down to it.

Although what it was…

Tim was still working on that.

The concrete poured leasurly, hardening.

"He moved." Dick looked up from the computer and glanced over at the immovible still form

"No he didn't." Dick sounded flat. Two days in and he had to force himself to stop staring at Tim, swearing to himself that Tim looked just about ready to move or groan or wake up. Damian was being mean, the sweet stubborn boy, hidden under arrogence, seemed non existant whenever it came to Tim. With all this happening, Dick remembered how truly cruel Damian had been back at the begening.

"His eye flickered." Damian had been acting as if everything is normal, Before, Dick had only mildly scolded Damian for his behavor towards Tim, under the assumption that deep down their bond as brothers would prevail. Sibling rivalry and all that, it was for them to work out. And everything was complicated, riddiculasly so, and pushing that issue would have been more strain then the balance could handle.

Now Dick wanted to punch both of them.

Or cry. Whatever.

The past two days Dick had surprised himself, he had gone to work come to the mansion and instead of his every waking moment being filled with all the mistakes he had made, all friction and pain on Tim's behalf, Dick found his mind dredging up moments from when the balance in life had finally returned. When finally, finally, he felt a sort of peace with his life, working with the Titans and molding his new bright gem of a city, knowing that back in Gotham and amusing and bitter sweet return awaited him.

He and Bruce where finally putting back to use all their skill and well oiled team effort and…famillyship. And a bitter broken world left from Jason was being filled with clumsy attemps by Tim with his genuine smarts and over eager way. Compared to everyone who had ever stepped foot in the cave Jason, Dick, Bruce ect. Tim…Tim was a whole knew ball park, a change in the dynamics.

A fresh start.

One of the earliest ventures with this new boy stepping up had been one even Bruce smirked about on occation, it had been months since the Dick and Alfred tag team rejoined forces and steamrolled Bruce into at least giving Tim a shot. One that Dick suspected was rigged for failiure from the start.

Dick had been asked (ordered) to show the kid the ropes, and he agreed. Tim seemed to be the factor that was reviving his old purpose that once made him and Bruce the greatest duo ever.

The Dynamic Duo

Tim was only just trying out the Robin name and the look of startled uncertanty still was in his blue eyes. In the face of a mild crises Dick had been left with the Bat-mobile and an over eager child who was barraling through hoops to work out his place in all of this. Hopping in the car Dick felt honest-to-god deep gut amusment swell through his torso as Tim jumped in with new skill and purposfully strapped himself in, a pleased grin scrunching his face.

"Tim."

"Yeah?"

"Forgetting something? It has a touch of red and the big letter "R" on the front?"

The ache in Dick chest had been building, like a sink hole that was devouring it's self, the memories from that time made him so nostalgic it physically hurt. For the second or third time in the past days, Dick wished more than anything that they could go back to those times.

And more than anything was a hell of a lot.

It seemed to make facing the current situation all the more mentally unbarable, like a horrible pressure. Which would lead to his mind conjuring up more memories, which would start the cycle all over again.

"His arm twitched." Damian persisted.

"Stop it." Dick almost begged.

Damian seemed to only grow frustrated by his game. "Dick, Drake moved!" Damian insisted. Dick paused for just a moment in the typing he had been doing on autopilot. Damian used his first name for a few reasons, being an ass wasn't usually one of them.

"Oh my!" It was Alfred, his strong chocolate voice was slightly energized in surprise. Flipping his chair around Dick found Alfred at the side of the cave, leaning over Tim. He could see Alfred through the glass that bloacked off the medical area, Alfred seemed to be looking at something. Its then that Dicks eyes caught on the displayed readings he'd been despretly avoiding. The brain centers lit up with blue and green, not the red and yellow of awakeness nor the purple of coma. His frontal lobe lit up with thought process.

Tim was dreaming.

Brain responding normally and activly cycling. Dick walked forward carfully, Slipping through the glass door, his eyes picking up the involinary twitches that moved Tim's fingers every few seconds. As Dick drew next to the bed he saw that Damian had been right, Tims eyes moved under his lids and every few moments his eye lids fluttered.

Well then.

For a moment Dick wondered how much time he could have saved himself by just giving Damian the benefit of a doubt half an hour ago and glancing over at Tim.

Dick turned back for a moment and nodded at Damian on absent apology. Damian ignored them all, occupying himself with things on the Bat Computer.

"Alfred?" The man servent looked up, a unbreakable persona it was times like these that Dick remembered that Alfred originally came to the manner as an agent of British Intelligence. Alfred was calm and collected but his blue eyes sparkled with a vicious purpose. Alfred was on a mission.

Mission Tim

Damn straight.

"Bruce will want to know" Dick said softly. Tim twitched in his sleep. It was a clumsy attempt to get Alfred to do the dirty work. Alfreds face said that Bruce would know Tim was in the clear when Alfred got around to telling him and not a moment before. That probably left it up to Dick.

"Rome."

Startled and immediantly mad that he had been startled, Dick looked down into too bright blue eyes. Tim stared up at Dick blankly.

"Timothy, do you know where you are?" Alfreds voice was firm and direct as he carefully kept and eye on Tims vitals while trying to get the boys attention.

It took Dick a moment to realized that even though Tim's eyes where open he wasn't actually looking at Dick. His eyes where wide and unseeing.

"Oi, Drake. What's Rome supposed to mean?" Damian had walked up and had shoved his face into Tim's. Tim had said something but it was most likely gibberish, except that Tim never did anything uncessicary.

A clue?

To what? To why Tim would-

(Blank out, ignore. Not for certain.)

Tim's eyes wondered around as if looking for something they couldn't see. Then his eyes settled, Dick could have sworn that for just a second Tim was aware as his eye bore into Damians.

"Romulas." Tim insisted. That was all Tim had to say and his eyes fluttered closed again.

Tim dreamed.

"It looks like now we just have to wait for his blood supply to replenish and him to sleep this off, more or less."

The sense of urgancy thrummed in the back of Tim's mind, it hadnt been that long ago that-

Had it been long ago?

Sometimes it felt like he was still a thirteen year old kid

Most the time he felt like he carried more years on his back than any mortal was meant to bare.

Back there

Back at the begenning.

He had always been watching, like a trekkie follows star trek. Even he, the boy who always tried to fade into the background, couldn't have guessed what his own actions would lead him to. Even now Bruce and the others probably didn't know the exstend of desperation Tim had felt since he had seen the bright costumes of red and green, flash as they tumbeled through the air.

And after that, somehow everything, Gotham, Batman, everything, had seemed like his business. Whatever he fate may have been without the circus, his path and diverges drastically after that day.

Sometimes though he wondered if he had just-

Newspaper clippings and collumns from small time papers filled the desk in front of him, the dark swooping figure that had once filled him with hope and excitement now buzzed worry and confusion in the back of his head.

"He looks so tired, he has since Jason passed away. Bruce hasn't been the same since he died, the newspapers don't know about robins death…

"But even they've had stories about Batman acting…well acting differently."

Tim sat up straight, turning to look through the dirty window. His parents hadn't even tried with this bording school. After Tim had been blamed for a school wide break out of broken computers,

(He had realized the riddllers clues and tried to contact Batman without being traced, Too scared to meet Batman like that, He had been something of a novice and computer encryptions and although he had sent the message and helped catch the riddler his triumph was short lived when batman tried to trace the message and in his panic Tim had broken the computers with a virus.)

The Drakes didn't have any tech where they were exscavating in India and when they had taken a quick vacation to London they had found out what Tim had done. They had sent Tim a message to re-locate to a new, smaller, cheeper school just inside the skirts of Gotham. He hadn't spoken to them in almost a year and they'd been gone twice as long.

It made Tim feel way less bad about what he had done upon discovering where Nightwing's apartment was. (Breaking in, secret wall pannel, finding a safe, cracking it. Photos, he tore them out of the book. There would be time for apoligies after this was over.)

"Batman seemed happier with Dick, Now I guess its like he just doesn't care." 'but I want him to care, I want him to be the Batman I remember…I remember it all.'

Finding Dick at the circus after Dick break from the Titans, seemed like fate.

Now Tim hated the idea of fate but back then…

His first case, not even as Robin. Just Tim Drake trying desperetly to get Dick to listen to him, giving him clues and evidance to help Dick with his crisies. Only to stand in awe as Dick brought the truth to light in full.

Tossing Dick over his shoulder when Dick finally caught up with him was the real end, or rather the begenning. It had been a trick Tim had practiced over and over and when Dick grabbed him Tim had done what he knew.

It was probably that very reason that Dick had looked thoughtful when Tim insisted Batman needed a Robin. Nightwing never intened to go back, and here was this kid who had taken out thugs and cracked impossible clues, all in a single day.

Looking back Tim had obliviously set himself up for the future.

He wondered if he should feel regret.

He just felt that sense of urgancy grow.

It turned into a bunch of flashbacks but i wanted to show throughout the series just how much they all really shared. Sometimes i read a fic and its like they havent been through hell fire dayly together. Next chapter will have actualy plot! Yey plot.

Throw me a bone with a review, I'm really interested in flames but decent reviews make my day, seriously I'm that pathetic.

Cheers.