Summary: Tim Drake died. And no one knew. He came back. No one cared. And now all he sees is green.
Tim supposes he understands why Jason was the way that he was when he returned to Gotham for the first time. Not as a ally, and certainly not as a Robin, but as an angry, hurt and broken man. It took all of Tim’s willpower to stay in control of his newfound temper. He amends Jason for how control he is now, it’s not easy. Tim now wears blue contacts so no one can see the lazarus pit green that took the originals blue’s place. His family knows that he lost his spleen in the fights against the council of spiders, but they believed that was all that happened. They didn’t know that he had lost his life during the final battle, and that Ra’s dumped him into the lazarus pit afterwards. That was also the same day that Tim took his first life.
Tim shook his head, as if that would help get rid of his thoughts from the past, and re-focused his gaze on the batcomputer in front of him.
“Hey, Tim, if you could hurry up on that information that would be great!” Dick called from the other side of the cave. The sane part of Tim knew that Dick didn’t mean anything by that, but the rage was weakening his grip on his sanity.
If Dick had believed me about Bruce being alive I never would have died.
His grip on the mouse tightened.
“Tim?” Dick yelled again, this time his voice laced in annoyance.
His fault his fault his fault his fault all his fault.
Tim didn’t even know it happened until the shards of the now broken mouse tore open his skin, he glanced down. His hand was covered in blood and plastic shards.
“Tim! What happened?” Dick exclaimed from behind him, Tim didn’t flinch. He turned around in the chair he had been sitting in, got up and started walking away, towards the med bay.
“Tim!” Dick’s voice was stern as he grabbed Tim’s shoulder and forced him to turn around and face him. Tim’s hand shot out and grabbed Dick’s, he jerked his hand to the left, and didn’t stop until he heard a pop. Dick groaned in pain as Tim dropped his hand, and continued his walk to the med bay, only to be stopped again. This time by Damian.
Damian is the reason I got kicked to the curb. He is Dick’s favorite. If Damian had been the one claiming Bruce was alive, Dick would have believed him.
“Apologize to Grayson this instant!” Damian demand, in his bratty tone.
Tim regarded him with disinterested eyes, “Make me.” Tim’s voice was bored, but on the inside the rage was burning him up. And he knew eventually it would burn him alive.
Damian’s surprise showed in his eyes.
His green eyes. Green……
“Do not make me ask again, Drake.”
“No.” Tim knew better than to enrage Damian, he really did. But right now, Tim was itching for a fight to release some of the rage built up inside of him.
When Damian jumped for him, Tim sidestepped and landed a devastating blow to the younger boys back, knocking him to the ground.
“Tim!” Dick’s voice was pure shock, but the exclamation didn’t reach Tim’s ears, and the pain in his right hand faded to where he could no longer feel it.
Damian stumbled to his feet, where he regained his balance, and the fire in his eyes. Damian grabbed his sword from the sheath on his back, and swung it with deadly accuracy at Tim’s left shoulder. Tim supposed Dick was right, Damian was getting better, before he would have swung at Tim’s head. Tim caught the blade, and he gripped it tight, ignoring the blood running from his already injured hand. Tim brought his knee up and made contact with Damain’s chest, brutally. Tim took advantage of Damian’s moment of weakness and ripped the sword from Damian’s grasp, before tossing it behind him.
The rest of the fight was a blur, and the next thing Tim knew, Bruce was in the cave, screaming.
Tim looked down and saw a batarang pressed tightly against Damian’s neck, a thin trail of blood running from the wound. Tim’s sanity returned, and he dropped the batarang and stumbled backwards, his eyes wide in horror.
That day, Damian needed 20 stitches and Dick was in a cast for 6 weeks. The day after, Bruce suggested Tim take a break, which resulted in the biggest fight the pair had ever had; which was saying something.
“Tim-” Bruce tried for a calming tone, but it was far too late. The rage had taken over. It wasn’t Tim anymore, it wasn’t. It was the pit. He thanked God for his blue contacts right now, he had almost forgotten them today. He knew that his eyes were a chilling, petrifying lazarus green.
“No! No, shut up Bruce.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had them, but nothing was left in him to feel bad for the look of shock that flashed on Bruce’s face. A voice inside him laughed, good! “This is not your decision to make, and I swear to God if you even so much as move in the direction of trying to stop me, you won’t like what happens.” Tim’s voice was just short of animalistic, his threat digging deep on Bruce, who was really, truly hurt by his son’s words.
“Son-” Bruce tried once more, but the glare that Tim shot him not only chilled Bruce to the core, it scared him. It didn’t look like Tim in that moment, it was… something else.
“Don’t.” Tim’s voice was deathly calm, and Bruce decided he prefered it when Tim was yelling. “Don’t you dare call me your son. You are not my father.” Another piercing jab.
“Master Timothy!” Alfred’s shrill voice rang throughout the cave. Tim shot Bruce another withering look, before stomping upstairs, and out of the house.
If Tim is being honest, he doesn’t remember anything that happened for the two hours after the fight. All he knows is there is a lot of blood. And a lot of green.
Tim is very happy that it was Jason who found him, sitting cross legged in a large pool of blood, that was not his, surrounded by four bodies. He doesn’t think any of the others would’ve reacted very well. And he had no interest in ending up in arkham.
“What the fuck, Tim!?” Jason yelled, yanking his hood off and tosing it on the ground, away from the blood, before making his way to where Tim sat.
“I don’t know.” Tim’s voice was a whisper, and the thing that scared Jason the most, was that he didn’t sound even remotely guilty, just scared of the unknown.
“Okay.” Jason sounded a lot calmer than he actually was, “Come on, Timbo.”
“Where are we going?” Tim asked as he followed Jason out of the alley way.
“Safehouse.” Jason’s voice sounded robotic, and one glance told Tim it was because he put the hood back on.
They made the rest of the journey in silence. Tim was silent because he didn’t know what to say, but Jason was silent because he was thinking. Chief among those thoughts were, what the hell happened to Tim?