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Dec 30, 2024

The Definition of Valor, part 1 of the To Live with Honor and Bravery series

Part 2, AO3

When Tim had been attacked by Widower, he’d opened with a slash at Tim’s eyes. Tim had dodged, but not quick enough, and the protective lenses had shattered. Tim had attempted to fight through the sudden pain and fucked vision regardless.

Then he’d gotten stabbed in the spleen, which was just shit.

He had only barely managed to drive himself and Pru back to the hotel, his sight full of black spots and nausea-inducing fragmented vision. But he’d done it.

And then he’d woken up to an all-encompassing blanket of nothing .

He could hear some sort of liquid bubbling and sloshing, people murmuring in League dialect, and could feel the bandages wrapped around his face.

Wait.

League dialect.

Tim was terrified, but refused to allow it to show.

Facts. He needed to take his surroundings into account, he needed to gather what information he could before he did anything .

He was laying on a metal surface, but it didn’t feel like a table. Probably a surgical bed.

He was not restrained. Their mistake, King Snake had seen to it that he would always be able to fight regardless of whether or not he could see the enemy.

His face was bandaged, so the Lazarus pit hadn’t been involved. Yet. Tim was under no illusions, if Ra’s thought it was required to make sure his new toy could function, he would gladly toss Tim in the Pit.

Unless this was some twisted new way to exercise control.

Fuck. Fuck . How was he supposed to do anything like this? Casework, Wayne Industries work, patrol, grappling from one building to the next-!

Oh God, grappling .

Would he ever be able to fly again?

He forced his hands into fists to hide their shaking as he lurched up and off of the bed he was laying on, introducing the first person to touch him to the dirt. Then the next, and the next, and the one after that-soon he was standing on uneven ground, panting and surrounded by unconscious assassins as he desperately listened for any other enemies in the room.

The assassins had done him a favor; they’d provided a fight for Tim to ground himself with.

“Little Detective, are you quite done?”

Chills traveled down Tim’s back as he turned to face the approximation of where Ra’s was.

“What did you do to me?” What was supposed to come out as rough and demanding, embarrassingly enough, only managed to come out as a small and broken whisper.

He heard Ra’s take a step closer.

Tim took a step back.

Ra’s chuckled.

“My doctors had just finished removing the debris from your eyes, when I had a thought.”

Ra’s kept walking closer.

Tim kept backing away.

And then Tim could not back away anymore, courtesy of the wall behind him.

“You get distracted, Little Detective, by anything and everything around you; so why not do you a favor?”

No. No , this sick fuck had deliberately -!

A hand gripped his chin and forced his head to tilt up.

“A few drops of perfectly diluted acid was all it took.”

Tim was gonna be sick. He needed to take off the stupid bandages, needed to get away from the creepy old guy fondling his face, needed…

He needed Dick. He needed Bruce.

Fuck, he’d even take Jason .

“The League will be your eyes, Timothy; you don’t need to worry about a thing. Just like blinders on a horse, no? Now you won’t be distracted.”

But Ra’s was no fool; Tim knew that wherever he was had a high chance of being soundproofed, completely isolated, and nearly inescapable.

“I will give you the tools you need to get started, Little Detective, but I expect you to get on your feet and back to searching for the Council of Spiders as promised. You have two weeks.”

The hand released his chin, and Ra’s footsteps stalked away.

Tim sank down and put his head between his knees.

He just needed to hold on long enough to get out of the compound, and then he could call for help.

~~~~~~

He had been given the room Tam was in, so that he would ‘adjust’ better.

So Tam was there when the blindfold came off.

Tim couldn’t see her, but that didn’t surprise him.

Ra’s was many things, all of them bad; but when he was trying to prove a point, he rarely lied.

Tim couldn’t bring himself to do anything beyond stare at where he knew he should have been seeing his hands.

Tam cried for both of them.

Tim was too busy planning to give his emotions more than a passing glance.

~~~~~~

The first thing Ra’s insisted on him learning had been technology.

Tim had already proven that he could still fight, so most of his lessons had been on how to utilize a screen he couldn’t see.

Tim found the current technology for the blind to be infuriatingly lacking, and was in the process of utilizing a text to speech program to create his own code to base assistance apps off of. It was excruciatingly slow going, and Tam had to review literally every little thing he did for typoes, but he created the bare bones.

From there, he’d managed to get his hands on some keyboard braille stickers, and partnered with the voice command program he’d created?

The rest was cakewalk.

~~~~~~

By the end of the week, he knew he’d grown complacent .

He knew where things were in the compound, and felt a sense of ease and familiarity that he did not want.

He was…becoming comfortable.

That was dangerous.

It meant that Ra’s demented plan was working .

Fine.

Tim just had to make sure that by the time he left, there would be nothing to return to.

~~~~~~

Ra’s had made a huge mistake, although it would be some time before Tim let him know it..

He had given Tim access to the armory.

“To make certain that your…outfit is better suited to your new outlook on life,” the dick had said before striding out on almost silent footsteps.

Tim contained himself. Just barely, but he did it.

Ra’s would get his.

Tim would make sure of that.

With the assassins ordered to assist him, Tim managed to create a type of sensory sonar in his cowl.

Added a program to his comm that would automatically hack the cameras around him and alert him in a specialized shorthand of how many people were around him, where they were in relation to him, and what they looked like.

Altered his grappling gun so that it sought out the best place to aim for by itself.

The lenses in his mask were utilized to discern the best throwing angle for projectiles, and provide that feedback to his comm. Otherwise, his comm would use available cameras in the area to direct his aim.

Restructured where his cape attached to his suit, so that it could better function as an emergency parachute should he need it and not strangle him.

The vocal commands required to navigate his tech were shortened to specific clicks and whistles.

Then the assassins were adequately distracted by arguing over the schematics that he and Tam had worked on the night before, he discreetly rearranged the trackers so that they would be easier to remove when the time came.

And if the schematics the assassins had pulled up on their screens also happened to have a tiny little program working in the background?

Well.

Ra’s had given Tim such a gift , and it would only be polite to leave one just as good in turn.

~~~~~~

Tim was three days away from being sent off to face down and finish off the Council of Spiders, and he had gotten into the rhythm of his new fighting style.

The comm in one ear, the cowl alerting him to proximity threats, the grapple seeking out safe areas to aim for-it was becoming as natural as breathing.

So of course, in the middle of a sparring session with one of his ‘helpers’, Ra’s threw out an EMP.

The complete lack of feedback was so disorienting that Tim not only staggered, but stood there without defending himself in a bewildered daze. Well, stood there right up until he got laid out on the ground.

“You must get better, Little Detective,” Ra’s chided from his corner of the room, “You cannot be anything less than perfect .”

The way Ra’s tone changed at the last word gave Tim the chills.

Every single ‘stranger danger’ lecture he’d had in school, every single ‘how to spot a child predator’ lecture he’d gotten from Bruce; they were all flooding his mind.

He didn’t want to know what Ra’s definition of ‘perfect’ was for Tim.

He could not stick around to find out.

But it wasn’t time to leave just yet.

Tim hauled himself up, got into position, and got to work.

~~~~~~

Tim and Tam slept in shifts.

She didn’t like how Ra’s looked at Tim.

She said he looked hungry, that he wore the exact same expression that made her grab her friends and leave bars.

Since they couldn’t leave, she instead suggested the shifts.

He knew that she wouldn’t be given the time to alert him if anything went wrong, but it made her feel better. It made her feel like she was doing something instead of just…waiting.

He understood that.

It was easier to fall asleep with her hand combing through his hair, anyways.

~~~~~~

Tim couldn’t see the explosions, but he could hear them.

He was also cursing himself for not recording them.

Now he had nowhere to turn for comfort that would be associated with Ra’s Al Ghul, and he had to move on and keep moving.

Perfect.

Ra’s would never have him.

~~~~~~

Ra’s had almost gotten him, but Tim had managed to win again.

His prize?

Getting kicked out of a window.

~~~~~~

Tim woke up to the hollow sound of a room made of stone, the quiet steps of another person, and the hum of electrical equipment.

He shifted his head slightly, and the flesh colored comm in his ear started chattering away about his surroundings.

He listened for a few seconds before hauling himself into a sitting position.

Alfred was on the other side of the bunker, the bunker was empty save for the two of them, and the butler moved with the assured air of someone who had no reason to rush.

Then Alfred turned and made his way to Tim, apparently holding a box of some sort.

Alfred stopped a foot away from where Tim sat on the bed.

Then he stepped forward and gently cradled Tim’s face.

Unlike Ra’s, Tim leaned into the touch.

“Oh, Master Tim,” Alfred sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, “What have they done to you, my boy?”

Tim tried to smile.

Given the hug he was wrapped in, he felt it was safe to say he’d failed.

He gave as good as he got, and Alfred was the one to step back from the hug after a good four minutes of it.

“I assume you do not want Master Dick to know?”

Tim shook his head, desperately scrubbing at his face to get rid of all evidence of tears.

He wasn’t ready. The time wasn’t right. Dick would overreact and bench him. He’d be seen as less.

A small box was gently pressed into his hand, interrupting his thoughts.

“Then put these on, dear boy; they will hide the worst of the damage, provided you do not give anyone enough time to realize they are contacts.”

Tim only barely got them in by the time Dick came down to the Bunker, and managed to bullshit his way through the conversation well enough to leave as soon as he could.

~~~~~~

Tim would never get used to contacts, but it was the best way to prevent cursory glances from family and friends realizing that he wasn’t, ah…well. To prevent them from finding out by accident.

No, he would tell who he wanted in the order he desired.

And he definitely wasn’t speeding up that schedule due to his hatred of the little eyeball torture devices.

“Call Kon,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair in the Nest.

When Kon had told him he was alive, Tim had been able to hide his eyes with the cowl and all his gadgets.

When Tim had hugged Kon after he allowed himself to process that Kon was alive, the cowl and all his gadgets had again kept his secret.

But things had calmed down, and Tim was ready.

“Tim? What’s up?”

Oh. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

The nerves he’d managed to avoid up to that point started making themselves known, a writhing pit of anxiety just under his ribs.

Tim knew he was strong, Tim knew that he’d overcome nearly impossible odds, and he knew that if there was one word that would never apply to him, it was weak .

“Tim? You okay? Your pulse just skyrocketed, man.”

But what if Kon thought he was?

Logically Tim knew he’d just have to kick his ass to clear the air, but mentally?

Mentally Tim was waking up in an assassin compound again, trying not to vomit as an older man far too interested in him to be safe violated his personal autonomy. The same older man who had taken away something as precious as his sight in the name of control, and then called it a favor .

Tim took a deep breath. Then another.

Maybe one more for good measure.

“Tim?”

This wasn’t working.

“Kon, can. Can you come over?”

The line disconnected.

Tim hid his face in his hands and drew his knees to his chest, just as Kon let himself into the Nest with his own personal access codes Tim had granted him.

“Tim, buddy, you good?”

A hand carefully rested itself on Tim’s shoulder, and he felt Kon lean back so that he was leaning on the desk.

“What.” Tim stopped, swallowing.

Kon waited.

Tim took a shaking breath.

“Is there anything that could happen to me that would make you think I’m weak?” Tim had tried to sound controlled, really, he had.

But the words jumbled together, quiet and afraid.

Kon stiffened, the hand on Tim’s shoulder tightening.

“Who do I have to kill?” Kon whispered, his thumb moving in a comforting circular motion.

Tim snorted.

“Not joking, Rob. Did someone…just. Who hurt you?” Kon stepped away from the desk and with very, very controlled movements and a tension Tim could feel through the hand still trying to comfort him, leaned down so that he was shorter than Tim.

“Do you need a doctor? Are you bleeding? Do you need me to stop touching you?”

Tim shook his head no to it all.

“It’s in the past, Kon. It happened…it happened before you came back. I just need you to know I’m used to it now. I just. I.”

Tim took a deep breath and pulled his hands away from his face, turning so that he was facing where Kon was. Like ripping off a bandaid, really.

Kon stopped breathing.

Tim knew that he was going over every time he’d seen Tim, narrowing down who he had been with or around during the time frame he’d provided.

When he started breathing again, it was odd and strangled.

“ Ra’s ,” Kon snarled, starting to stand up.

Tim’s hands shot out and grabbed Kon’s arm.

And even though he could have easily just stepped away, the Super stilled.

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Tim blurted out, trying to explain why Kon couldn’t leave yet, “Everyone who knows found out against my wishes, but you; you’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

‘ I need you here more than I need you hunting down an immortal assassin ’, though unsaid, hung clearly in the air.

Kon took some deep, measured breaths of his own, and then leaned over Tim to pick him up.

Tim barely prevented himself from kicking out and ruining his precious set up, instead putting Kon in a chokehold that would have dropped any human.

Then they were on Tim’s couch, and Kon was putting on a movie, and in bits and pieces over the night, Tim explained what had happened to him, bracketed on both sides by Kon’s legs as his best friend clung to him like he was going to vanish.

They fell asleep like that, tangled together and safe .

~~~~~~

Kon stared at the wall over Tim’s head, feeling his eyes heating up as he desperately tried not to melt a hole in Tim’s headquarters.

Ra’s Al Ghul.

Ra’s Al Ghul .

The name kept bouncing around his head, taunting him.

He tightened his grip on Tim, eliciting a tired groan before the shorter teen readjusted and settled down again.

Fuck, he’d deliberately blinded Tim. Tried to force Tim to rely on him so much that he’d willingly join the League. He’d implied that his intentions with Tim were so bad that the civilian he’d been trapped with had offered to sleep in shifts.

That.

Kon.

Kon was going to kill him.

Kon was going to rip him to shreds .

The Red Hood situation had been messed up, but Rob had come back and assured them it had been a misunderstanding.

So Kon had left it alone.

He’d kept an eye on Hood, of course, and was always prepared to take the man out if he ever stepped out of line again, but ultimately he steered clear.

Because Tim had asked. Because Tim had pulled Kon aside and done everything just shy of begging him not to get involved. It was a Gotham issue, it was a family issue, it was a Bat issue, they just needed time, Tim didn’t care about Hood anyways-

So he’d acquiesced.

But Ra’s Al Ghul was different.

He wasn’t a Gotham problem, he was a worldwide one. That meant he was fair game.

The old fuck couldn’t revive if there weren’t any Lazarus Pits.

Kon started trying to untangle himself from Tim, shushing him as his best friend protested in his sleep.

“It’s okay Tim, I’m just gonna go make sure he can’t hurt you again,” Kon whispered, only to be met with Tim somehow managing to shove both his arms up Kon’s shirt in his sleep.

Four more minutes of maneuvering himself, and he was finally freed from Tim’s grip and rising above Gotham. He stretched his hands before curling them into fists; it was time to make sure that asshole never, ever hurt Tim again.

There was a soft puff of air, and Kon stilled.

The Nest, like anything made by the Bats, was soundproofed even against Supers.

But Kon had been so focused on getting to Tim that he’d forgotten to close one of the doors that led to the outside all the way. Just one door, one small crack that sound could leak out of.

“I have to do this, Clark,” Kon whispered, refusing to look at his progenitor.

“No you don’t, Conner,” Kal said, reaching forward and placing a restraining hand on Kon’s arm, “You want to do this, because you know you can do this. But you weren’t the one that was wronged; it was Tim, and Tim wants you here .”

Kon finally turned to look at the older man.

Their relationship was a rocky one, and Kal was not quite what Kon would consider a father figure.

But he knew that Kal was right, and it sucked.

Just as he opened his mouth to put up a token argument, though, something whistled in the air and cut through his jacket.

Stunned, both Kon and Kal looked down to see a very unimpressed Red Robin right below them, flipping another birdarang, but this one had an eerie green glow.

“I know you both can hear me,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “But if you think I’m going to let you steal my revenge from me Kon, you’re delusional.”

Kal started to float a little higher, but Kon’s hand shot out and forced him to stay in place.

Red Robin looked like he was gearing himself up for a rant, and if Kon had to sit through it, so did Kal.

But as Kon floated down to Tim’s level, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

Rob still needed to sleep, and Kon would have to trap him on the couch to see it done, but he looked far more alive than he had not even ten minutes ago.

Kal was right; Tim was more important than some old piece of shit in Iraq.

Just. If Kon was ever in the same area the fucker was, there would perhaps be a new red stain on the pavement.

~~~~~~

Life went on.

While Bruce got used to being Batman again, and Dick slowly migrated back to Nightwing, Red Robin spent his nights perfecting his new fighting style, and his days quietly transitioning Wayne industries to be more user-friendly for himself.

None of his rogues noticed, or if they did, they didn’t care.

His fellow Bats definitely didn’t notice, or else he'd have his arms full of a seething, worried Nightwing.

Jason could go fuck himself.

Clark kept his mouth shut.

Tim made sure Clark kept his mouth shut.

And Kon, Bart, and Cassie had mandatory hang outs once a week.

Tim was genuinely starting to get better, he felt, one or two nightmares notwithstanding.

Perhaps…nah.

The Bats were their own special brand of crazy; he wouldn’t make a move until he was certain that Bruce wouldn’t overreact and bench him.

~~~~~~

When Bruce came back, he hadn’t been expecting a lot of things.

He hadn’t been expecting a new Robin, he hadn’t been expecting Clark to clam up at the mention of Tim, he hadn’t expected Dick to privately confide that he would never be Batman again, and he hadn’t expected to only ever see Tim in passing during patrol.

The boy was even going out of his way to avoid the Batcave, and kept communication to a minimum. Something was going on, and Tim was going above and beyond to keep everybody in the dark.

So Bruce did what Bruce did best.

He investigated.

Tim’s fighting style had changed.

He was relying more on sound than sight. He appeared to have installed some sort of tech that alerted him to enemies coming up behind him.

He took a few seconds longer to survey crime scenes, head cocked like he was listening to something.

He rarely looked at what he was observing, but instead tilted his head to the side.

His grapple gun appeared altered, with extra tech in it. It now made strange clicking sounds when it was lined up perfectly with an outcropping.

His suit had been altered so that his cape functioned more like a wingsuit or parachute, apparently in an effort to slow or control a fall.

His precious car only ever went on autopilot, with Tim in the driver's seat leaning back and obviously listening to something.

The mask hid it, but when Tim spoke to one of them directly during patrol, his gaze was always a little off-center.

There was a gap where literally no one knew where the boy had been while Bruce had been in the Time Stream.

Bruce compiled what he’d found, and retreated to the Batcave.

Fact; Tim was no longer using his eyes. High likelihood that this was because he either no longer had them, or they no longer functioned adequately.

Fact; something had happened while Bruce was away to make Tim have a grudge against Dick and Damian, and no one was telling him what it was. However, there was a high chance that his grudge was preventing the sharing of this vital information.

Fact; Tim had altered his tech to accommodate this, which meant it was more than likely permanent.

Fact; Tim was still just as formidable as he had been prior to whatever had happened.

Fact; Tim was unwilling to come clean about it to the family.

Fact; Bruce knew Tim, and knew that the second that information became relevant Tim would tell them.

Fact; Tim was not a liability in his current state. Bruce would not have to convince him of this, as Tim was clearly aware.

Bruce would have to initiate conversation about accommodations in the Batcave to ensure Tim could function just as well as he did in his Nest.

Bruce busied himself doing research on accessibility tech for the blind, and started making notes on how to improve the Batcave. He also started making notes on how to improve certain already existing accessibility products, and potential ways to work with Tim regarding Wayne Industries PR team and his sudden onset of blindness.

If they spun it right, it could potentially raise their stocks as well as open the door to many new charities. Tim had probably already thought of that, so it was a matter of needing to ask him what list he’d already created…

While he was planning that, he extended an invitation to Tim outlining what he wished to discuss. He also mentioned that if his third Robin came early enough, he’d be able to attend brunch.

He’d also included a more personal request at the end of the email.

‘ If you are ready and willing, I believe it is time that the family knows. Otherwise, a simple email response will do .’

~~~~~~

So Bruce had solved it himself and definitely was not going to bench him.

Tim sat at the table, listening to the chaos of brunch.

His eyes itched from his contacts, he had a growing migraine from the unfamiliarity of the environment, he kept grabbing the wrong fucking utensil because it was in the wrong goddamn place, and because everything was so close together he couldn’t pick out what was where by scent.

Cass leaned her leg against his, an invisible sign of support he was eternally grateful for. She’d been the one to find out first, on the highrises of Hong Kong.

But she’d never treated him as less, just rolled with it, proceeded per their plan, and reminded him that she was always open for a spar.

Cass was the best, and he would owe her forever.

The others though, Tim knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that they would overreact.

He was contemplating just…not telling them. Bruce knew, which meant Batman knew, which meant in between the time of receiving the invitation and arriving, the man already had contingencies made.

Also, fuck them.

Damian kept trying to poison him, but either becoming blind had granted him mystical levels of scent or the kid didn’t realize the poisons he was choosing had a strong smell.

Dick kept touching him, and it was throwing him off; he had been reaching for where he was fairly certain the bacon was when the eldest had knocked his shoulder, shifting his trajectory and ending with his hand on the pancake stack.

Cass had laughed quietly at that, the traitor.

But Tim had found that the easiest way to dodge a poisoned morsel was to ask Dick to pass him whatever object he needed. Dick, overcompensating for his stint at Batman, never said no and didn’t ask questions.

It was around the fifteenth time he’d asked Dick to pass him something when Damian finally snapped.

“Drake, the syrup is right there; are you really so incompetent that you cannot reach out and grab it?”

“Wasn’t aware that you thought of blind people as incompetent, Damian,” slipped out before Tim could stop himself.

Table noise stopped, with the exception of the head of the table where Bruce sat. He just kept eating like nothing was wrong.

Fuck it.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“But it’s nice to know where you stand in regards to the handicapped community,” Tim finished, looking over at approximately where he estimated Damian’s head was.

“Drake, I am embarrassed for you. Pretending to be blind isn’t going to grant you the pity you so crave.”

Oh that fucker . Fine. Fine , if that was how Damian wanted to play, then Tim would oblige.

He would make the newest Robin feel like such a fucking asshole.

Tim had not gone through the shit he had for some fucking pity .

Tim held out his hands in a ‘time-out’ symbol, before tipping his head back and removing the stupid contacts.

With them out, his eyes finally stopped itching.

Truly, a blessing.

Oh yeah, also the horrified silence as he leveled his foggy, milky white-blue eyes at where he’d heard Damian speak. That was a blessing too.

A blessing that did not last for long.

“Yes, Damian. How dare I exist in your presence as anything less than perfect.”

The table erupted with noise.

~~~~~~

After, Tim sat across from Bruce and talked in through uploading his personal programs into the Batcomputer.

Bruce had requested a debrief, but given Tim the option of just filing it electronically as opposed to face-to-face.

Tim appreciated the gesture, but went ahead and did it verbally. He could hear the others lingering in the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous but failing drastically. It would be easier to say it once and be done with it.

So he did.

Around the point of Ra’s dropping the EMP, though, he paused.

“B, grab Dick he’s trying to sneak out for murder.”

He heard a brief struggle, inevitably ending with Dick swearing under his breath as Cass, according to his comm, sat on him.

Bruce had not moved from his place in front of Tim.

Tim leveled an unimpressed look at Bruce.

“Is it really murder if the victim routinely comes back from the dead?” Bruce asked, voice flat.

Oh.

Okay.

That was…a fair point. But.

“Because you seriously contemplated that, you can no longer give me shit for Boomerang.”

“Hn.”

A large, calloused hand gently wrapped around his own and squeezed lightly.

Tim read the apology in the action, and squeezed back.

Neither let go as Tim finished his report.

The cave fell into silence.

“You have done beyond admirably, Tim,” Bruce said quietly, his grip tightening, “And I am proud of all you’ve achieved.”

Holy shit, actual emotions from Bruce.

Tim tried to play it cool, but he could feel his ears heating up.

“I mean, thanks, it’s like. Do or do not, so like. I just. Did.” Oh yes, Drake, very cool. That was definitely a sentence, with words and everything!

He didn’t need the comm to tell him that Bruce was smirking.

He could feel it in the air.

“Thank you for telling us, now we can function better when we have to team up,” was Bruce’s diplomatic response.

Tim nodded, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

Bruce’s grip loosened up, but the man didn’t let go.

“Now, regarding Wayne Industries. You mentioned that you’ve already put together a plan with Tam?”

Oh good a way out of talking about emotions and other gross stuff.

~~~~~~

“Hey baby bird, how’s it going?”

Tim was jostled from his morning civvie walk to the coffee shop by Dick throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Tim shrugged and rolled with it.

“Boutta get coffee and donuts. What’re you doing in Gotham? I thought you had work.”

Dick knocked his head against Tim’s and steered them towards the shop in question.

“I’m on administrative leave for lack of schedule adherence. How about I buy you that coffee?”

Tim smelled ‘overcompensation’ in the air, and smiled beatifically.

“Well, if you insist.”

~~~~~~

“Hey baby bird, how’s your caseload lookin?”

Tim paused the auditory feedback of the report he had pulled up on his screens and faced Dick.

The man had been almost smothering. On patrol, Nightwing was always right there. Off patrol, Dick was always right there.

Like, sure, Tim got away with shoving Nightwing at villains he didn’t want to deal with, and having his breakfast paid for was always nice.

But he could tell Dick was doing to make up for something he’d had no control over, and it was beginning to grate on Tim’s nerves.

It would be touching it if it wasn't so annoying.

Maybe some busywork would do him some good.

“I’ve got about forty-five cases ongoing right now. Want to-”

“Tim, forty-five ? Are you serious ? Give me like, half of those!”

Tim did not have forty-five cases. He only had twenty, and only three of those were marked high priority.

Tim gladly handed over all of his cases except those three over to Dick.

After all, the man had insisted.

Who was Tim to refuse such a generous offer?

~~~~~~

Jason was getting tired of the replacement's bullshit.

Everyone knew, Crime Alley was his .

Maybe a shot in the leg would help cement that tidbit of trivia.

He landed behind the kid and strode over.

“Look, replacement, I’m flattered that you keep trailing after me like a little fanboy stalker, but-"

“You’re right, Red Hood. Boy, do I sure wish I could just replace my eyes with eyeballs that work.”

What the actual fuck.

Why was he talking so loud?

What was he even talking about?

Wait.

“The fuck you mean, your eyes don’t work?”

“I’m blind, dumbass.”

Okay, that last part was said a lot quieter. He was definitely trying to draw attention with the first-

Jason found himself flying in the air, and that was not something he had been attempting to do.

By the time he’d collected himself off of the roof, it was to being stared down by a furious Nightwing.

“Seriously? Seriously . You’re giving him shit for his condition ?”

Behind him, the pretender fucking smirked .

…

He was gonna kill him. He was gonna fucking kill him.

~~~~~~

Damian approached Drake, allowing his strides to announce his presence.

Drake did not even turn around.

Damian cleared his throat.

Drake sighed.

“What do you want, demon-”

“Unlike Grayson, I will not be fooled,” Damian stated drily, holding himself straight with perfect posture, “Being blind has not deterred you from being an accomplished combatant in the least. If anything, it has afforded you the opportunity to prove yourself to Father. I demand a duel, so that Father may know who is superior once and for all.”

Drake’s sightless, pale eyes somehow found his gaze and held it.

“So what happened?”

Damian stiffened.

“I do not know what you-”

“No no, something happened. Normally you’d just try to stab me and be done with it, but now you want a duel . What. Happened.”

Damian felt himself flush, and tried to order his body to cease its mutiny against him.

It did not work.

Drake’s smile grew wider, and he knew that one of his specialized programs had pointed it out to him.

“Father is…most vocal. About how much you’ve accomplished. All the time.”

Confessing that felt like removing needles from his throat, but Damian refused to break eye contact.

Drake’s smile softened.

Disgusting.

“Alright, we’ll duel. But it has to be on even ground, so neither of us has an advantage. No tech for me, no sight for you, unfamiliar footing.”

Damian nodded, trusting Drake’s technology to translate the gesture.

“Lowest part of the caves, two hours. I’d start preparing if you want to prove yourself to Bruce so badly, little demon.”

Damian scoffed, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

“You as well, Pretender.”

~~~~~~

“Hey Alfred, can you do me a solid?” Tim asked from the armchair he was slouched in, fingers idly gliding over the words on the page.

Alfred walked closer, delicately setting down a cup of coffee on the table next to him.

“Whatever can I do for you, Master Tim?”

Tim held out a fist, and dropped what was inside it into Alfred’s waiting hand.

It was a small rock. Not quite a pebble, but like, a level above that.

“In about an hour, can you drop that over the railing on the side closest to the Batcomputer?”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred agreed, sounding bemused.

~~~~~~

Alfred walked at a steady pace towards the railing that Master Tim had specified, checked his watch, and dropped the small rock.

Then, job done, he turned and went back to his regular duties.

~~~~~~

Damian refused to allow the pitch blackness of the cave deter him.

He stood, waiting for Drake to make his move.

The cave was distorting the sounds that Damian could hear, and he could not tell if he was hearing his own breathing or Drakes.

He-

There!

Drake had fumbled, and announced his position!

Without a sound, Damian darted forward and began the hunt.

~~~~~~

Tim sat at the table and lost himself in Dinner.

It was rare, but both Bruce and Dick had a case that overlapped with one of his own, so all three were working it together.

As it was mostly semantics and number crunching, Alfred hadn’t stopped them from discussing it at the table.

Everything was going well.

A peaceful, uninterrupted dinner.

“Hey, has anyone seen Damian?” Dick asked, sounding a touch worried.

Tim shrugged.

“Told me he was ‘going to train’ to prove his worthiness, or something. Which, by the way, Bruce, do you really talk about me on patrol?”

“I…I perhaps use you as someone that Damian should look up to.”

Bruce sounded hesitant, and Tim’s comm helpfully supplied that his ears had changed color, indicating embarrassment.

“I talk about you too, but only to your titans; same reason,” Dick confessed, with no shame in his voice at all, “They all agree with me.”

“Your efforts to escape a dangerous situation, when everything was stacked against you, and then refused to do nothing less than thrive, are something worthy of praise,” Bruce said quietly, an absolute finality in his voice, “And though I wish you would tell the other heroes about what you went through, I admit it’s just selfishness. I. I would very much like to brag to them.”

Tim felt his own ears turn red, and the table fell to silence.

“...Maybe,” Tim muttered, thinking about it.

~~~~~~

They were lounging in the library, listening to an audio drama podcast, when Damian stomped in.

Tim tilted his head from where it was resting on the armrest.

“Sounds like someone finally realized I wasn’t there.”

“You! You coward, you tricked me!” Damian shouted, and Tim knew without the Comms input that the kid was waving a sword at him.

“Dami, you tried to fight Tim ? You can’t-”

“Cease your coddling Grayson, Drake is more than capable of fighting his own battles and you demean him as well as yourself when you pretend otherwise.”

“Thanks, demon brat.”

“I will hear no thanks from the likes of a treacherous-”

“Boys,” Bruce cut in, papers rustling as he set his work down, “What happened?”

“Drake dishonored himself! He agreed to a duel and did not show up! I spent hours in the cave system trying to find my way back!”

“Tim, did you trick Damian?” Bruce was starting to sound like a tired dad.

“I mean, I thought it would be fairly obvious you were alone down there in my defense. I had no idea you would go further into the cave system.”

Tim heard Damian’s clothes move, and his comm gave him two quick A flat notes.

Tim dodged the batarangs the second they got thrown at his head.

~~~~~~

“Pretender, you have got to stay away from-”

“You’re right Jason, I do pretend that I can see, every day. But I’m forgetting what that was like.”

“God damn it, you know that’s not what I meant !”

~~~~~~

“Alright Tim,” Barbara started, wheeling alongside him, “I just need you to keep an eye out for Rosetti.”

It was a beautiful day, by Gotham standards, and she and Tim were in their civvies.

It was a pity, she really would have enjoyed a good stroll in the park. Perhaps a stop by that one sandwich shop, too.

But she was stuck looking for a small time smuggler with ties bigger than he knew what to do with.

Tim let out a small gasp.

“I see him!”

“Where?” Barbara asked, looked around discreetly before pausing and looking at Tim.

Tim turned towards her and waved a hand in front of his face.

They stood in silence, as Barbara glared at him and he let her.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

~~~~~~

Dick welcomed himself into Tim’s penthouse, intent on making the best of another day with the brother he’d pushed away.

Because unlike Jason, Tim had come back! And he hadn’t ostracized himself or brought about grievous bodily harm to another family member!

All Dick had to do was make sure he didn’t want to leave again; easy!

“Hey baby bird-”

“Fight me.”

Dick froze, dumbfounded.

“Uh, what?”

“ Fight . Me . I’m getting tired of this weird pity thing you’ve got going on.”

Dick reared back, the words as effective as if Tim had slapped him.

“I don’t-Tim, this isn’t-”

There was a flash of movement, and a literal kitchen knife was embedded to the hilt in the wall a foot away from his head.

Oh shit.

Tim was serious.

That was the only thought he had time for before his little brother was there , and then it was a matter of winning the surprise spar.

Which he did, of course, but it was…

Well.

That had been a hell of a spar, and Dick was going to use Tim as role model material way more often when talking to younger heroes.

He had managed to get Dick to the ground four times before Dick had finally managed to wrestle Tim into a hold he couldn’t wriggle out of.

“That was really good, Tim! Have you been practicing?”

“Damn it Dick, take me seriously!”

Dick smiled sadly, risking a headbutt as he leaned his head forward and gently leaned his forehead against the back of Tim’s head.

“I am, Tim. I’m not doing all of this because I think you’re less capable now, though.”

Tim stilled, panting slightly as he started to settle down.

“Then why are you smothering me?”

“Because I’m happy you’re back, you dork.”

“...Oh.”

Dick snorted, releasing his hold.

“Yeah, oh .”

“...Can you get the knife out of where I threw it? I was making steak and potatoes.”

Dick chanced a glance at the kitchen counter, and felt his smile growing as he noted enough for two people.

~~~~~~

“Fucking-! Imposter, I swear to God, get the fuck out of my turf!”

“Yeah, a lot of days I do feel like an imposter, living amongst people who can-”

“Shut the fuck up and go home, dumbass!”

“ Alright fine, here’s information on a human trafficker I found, geez.”

~~~~~~

“Ah, Tim. Good, hold this while I tune up the Bentley-”

There was a clatter as the wrench he’d tossed at Tim fell to the ground.

Bruce stared at the wrench.

Then Bruce stared at his blind son, in a safe environment where he hadn’t been expecting to need to use his reflexes, to whom he had just tossed it without any warning.

Tim’s wide, pale eyes gazed in his direction in disbelief.

“We will not speak of this,” Bruce tried.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

Bruce folded.

“We will not speak of this, and I will see if I can-”

“And you will attend the Wayne Industries gala in my stead.”

Bruce felt himself flinch.

“...I am busy that-”

“-And you will be a well-behaved version of Brucie.”

Bruce said nothing.

“I will tell Jason.”

Damn it.

~~~~~~

The board of directors were…confused.

There had been a shift in the products the R&D teams had been told to focus on.

They were to research and develop new tools for any member of the handicap community.

Specifically, there was a focus on assistance for the visually impaired.

Then Timothy Drake-Wayne walked in, for the first time he’d actually been to the office in almost a year.

And…yeah, the new focus suddenly made much more sense.

Their CEO had a cane, had clear and obvious eye damage, and was listening to the docket being read to him by Tam.

They discreetly eyed each other.

This…could be useful.

After all, their young, new CEO had been crippled in the worst way.

He could no longer read their body language.

This would be easy.

~~~~~~

It was not easy, and their new CEO was the devil.

It was a sentiment taken literally by half of them.

~~~~~~

Superman and Wonder Woman were making a proposal regarding teamwork in the Tower meeting room, and Batman was the one pitching the idea.

He’d walked up, taken front and center, and began to explain the pros and cons of the suggestion.

Then his phone had dinged.

His civilian phone.

The rest of the League watched in shock as the Big Bad Bat tugged the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

And then.

And then he smiled .

It was a little thing, but on Batman? It was the equivalent of a blinding, wide smile usually only found on Captain Marvel’s face.

“Uh, Batman?” Green Arrow asked, cautious.

Batman put away the phone and the smile vanished.

“Yes, Green Arrow?”

“Is uh…are you possessed?”

Batman frowned.

“That is the improper procedure to discern whether or not possession has taken place, and you know it.”

“Okay yeah, you’re fine. Just uh. You never pull out your civilian phone? Got kinda concerned.”

Batman’s shoulders stiffened, and his hand went to the phone again.

“I am just…very proud. Of my son.”

While everyone wondered just what the fuck had happened, Superman almost seemed to explode from pent up energy.

“I know, right? He had… that happen to him, and he just-and then! And then !”

Batman nodded along, as though the Super was making perfect sense.

“I doubt I would have been as tenacious in his situation,” the Bat admitted.

Holy crap Batman admitting he wouldn’t have been as good at something as someone else?

“And he’s still-!” Superman broke off, looking around the room and gesturing helplessly.

Batman nodded again, completely understanding.

The rest of the League was just confused.

“If you would like, I have some of his prototypes in the Cave to…show you. If you want.”

Green Arrow reared back as though slapped.

An express invitation to the Cave? What the hell had happened?

“Yes!” Superman sounded ecstatic, and Batman turned back to the presentation.

Green Arrow snuck out his phone and shot a text off to Roy.

If anyone knew what was happening with the Bats, it would be his son, if only from listening to Red Hood’s bitching.

~~~~~~

He looked at Roy’s response after the meeting, and froze in place.

‘ Red Robin is blind, dunno how, but he’s been using it to drive Hood up a wall. Redesigned all of his tech to accommodate it, still scary efficient. Ttyl. ’

Shit.

Even without the knowledge of how it had happened, yeah. Yeah, Oliver could see it.

Insurmountable odds, an event that would make almost anyone retire from the field, and Red Robin adapted to it and continued on.

He’d be proud too.

…

If he hurried, he’d probably be able to catch Bats and see that tech he’d been talking about.

~~~~~~

Spoiler dropped down from the rafters and knocked out the man below her.

Of all the ways to reunite with Tim, she really hadn’t thought it would be rescuing him from a kidnapping.

It had been super unfortunate; done in broad daylight, with tons of witnesses, and locking Tim in his civilian persona for the duration of it.

She definitely wasn't nervous. Totally. This was just going to be the first time she’d spoken to him like, for real for real since she’d come back and surprised everybody with her not-deadness.

But it was cool.

She’d just saunter in, and save the day, and Tim would definitely forgive her or she’d bring up how nasty he’d been about the pregnancy thing.

It was flawless and she wasn’t relying on emotional manipulation to dodge the ramifications of her actions.

She was just.

Okay.

Okay, maybe she was relying on manipulation like, a little bit.

But Tim did that all the time!

Oh hey that was a weird door.

Steph tried to gently nudge it open.

It was locked.

Steph tried the same approach, but with less gentle and more ‘kick the door down’.

It was unlocked.

Tim’s head jerked up from where he was tied to the chair, eyes wide-

Eyes.

What…was…

They were fogged over, milky, unseeing.

Steph didn’t remember walking forward, just kneeling in front of Tim and gently tracing under his eyes with her thumbs.

Three hours.

He’d been with his kidnappers for only three hours.

And they’d…

“Hey,” she whispered, leaning forward and wrapping him in a hug, “I’m gonna untie you, but I need to finish up.”

Fuck Bruce’s rules.

She was gonna-

“They didn’t do this,” Tim whispered back, resting his head in the crook of her neck, “This was from almost a year ago. Don’t kill them.”

Hmm. There wasn’t really a point in going after them if they hadn’t done this to Tim.

“Alright. Then who did ?”

She’d just hunt down the ones that had .

~~~~~~

Barbara made sure that her coffee table was in the correct set up, that there was nothing on the floor, and settled in with her coffee.

It was time.

Cass was there first, because of course she was.

Tim was next, and set down across from Cass.

All three of them were present.

It was time to begin.

Barbara decided to go first.

“Bruce tried to keep me from a mission because it would require investigating certain areas in person. Pretty sure he subconsciously thinks I’m anchored to the Clocktower.”

Tim and Cass nodded.

“Jason tried to stop me. Said it would be better if he got information. Thinks I can’t talk, still.”

Barbara and Tim nodded.

“Dick almost blew my cover because he tried to carry me while grappling. He thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Cass and Barbara let out sympathetic sounds.

The meeting of microaggressions continued, as it did every 15th, as the trio brainstormed how to beat the incompetence out of their non-disabled partners.

Negotiations fell through, as they always did, when the two options were ‘educate them with a five hour long powerpoint’ or ‘beat them into the dirt every time they do it’.

“Both,” Cass said unhelpfully.

“Tim you’re more than capable, just grab Cass and beat them until they learn,” Barbara tried to order Tim.

“That won’t work if they don’t know how not to do it in the first place!” Tim argued.

The meeting ended in the early morning hours of the next day, and no consensus had been reached.

~~~~~~

Sometimes, Tim forgot.

He would wake up, and have a brief moment of panic at the nothing in front of him, and then remember.

Those days were bad.

Those days, he deliberately got whoever was nearest to be near him and just…be there. So he knew he wasn’t alone.

Dick was off planet. Bruce and Damian were neck deep in an investigation Tim refused to pull them away from. Barbara was having a family date with the commissioner. Steph was having a girls day with her mom. Duke was working on a case he refused to ask for help on, and Tim wasn’t going to pull him away from that.

Kon was off planet, Bart was at a family event, Cassie was at some sort of training camp, Raven was off planet with Dick as was Garfield and Garth, although he didn’t know them as well as his own team.

Only one option.

“The fuck do you want, and why are you calling me?”

Tim swallowed.

“Do you ever dream of the coffin?”

The line went silent.

“Replacement, I need an explanation before I go over there to put you in your own grave to crawl out of.”

“I. I forgot that I was.” Tim took a shuddering breath, “I had a bad dream. There’s no one else.”

The line, again, went silent. Then it was full of rustling sounds.

“You at the penthouse you think I don’t know about?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m making waffles, we’re eating them, and then I’m gonna read and not talk to you, and you’re not gonna talk to me.”

“Sounds good.”

He didn’t necessarily like Jason. It was hard to like someone who had broken his bones and slit his throat.

But he knew Jason had calmed down from his earlier days, and that if anyone would understand the need to just have someone else in the same room, it would be him.

They didn’t need to get along to understand each other.

~~~~~~

Jason ended up reading outloud, voice quiet and soothing as Tim curled up in the corner of the couch.

~~~~~~

Duke was in a little trouble.

Correction, Duke was in a lot of trouble.

Red Robin was in front of him, in the Batcave, and was in the process of taking off his mask.

Duke had just been invited to the Batfamily, he was still learning who was who, and what he remembered of Red Robin was scary.

When he’d been an unofficial Robin, and actual Robin had tried to fight them all, Red Robin had, quite frankly, terrified Duke.

It was like the man was omnipotent; he didn’t need to be looking at someone to know exactly where they were and what they were doing. He’d handled himself in a fight with grace, and afterwards had siphoned through the information he’d needed at an alarming speed.

So Duke knew that Red Robin knew he was there, and was choosing to show him what was under the mask.

Was this what Lira felt like, when she watched those K-pop groups? Duke wasn’t ready .

The mask came off.

Red Robin turned around.

…

That was Tim goddamn Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Industries and driving force behind their recent accessibility tech.

Holy shit.

“Can I have your autograph?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that! It’d just slipped out!

Now Tim was laughing at him, and Duke deserved it because he was an idiot.

“Sure, but let’s wash up and go eat first,” Tim agreed, turning and leading the way to the showers.

But Duke’s mouth just did not know when to shut the fuck up.

“So like, if you’re blind, and I control light, I think we should partner up for one or two missions,” Tim paused in his beeline for the locker room, and tilted his head in Duke's direction. Duke, predictably, panic rambled.

“I mean; I can use light bright enough to stun people and it won’t affect you, or I can make it pitch black, and it still won’t affect you, so it’d…be…perfect…I’m sorry I’ll stop.”

“Huh,” Tim said, shrugging and starting his walk again, “Actually yeah, that would be a good team up. Let me know if you need help.”

Duke allowed himself to do a tiny fist pump of victory.

Possible future team up! Yes!

~~~~~~

Lex hated charities.

Not because of the charity aspect, but because of the people aspect.

His only saving grace had been Timothy Drake-Wayne, recently.

“Ah, Mr. Drake-Wayne, how lovely to see you here.”

Timothy tilted his head to the side, and smiled brightly as he turned to face Lex.

Lex expertly dodged the cane that had just tried to swipe his legs out from under him.

“Mr. Luthor! I made it by just a hair, honestly. Traffic always gets insane around this time.”

Lex felt his smile turn feral.

“I agree, the cars lining up all the way back to Gotham are truly a sight to behold.”

“Ah, Mr. Luthor, everyone knows it’s only a car from a real Gothamite if the tires are bald from outrunning the Joker.”

Timothy’s smile had turned feral as well.

The people around them were shifting uncomfortably and edging away.

Good.

“Speaking of; the Joker might as well have designed this event, for how garish the decorations are. Truly, it is a blessing you cannot see it.”

“But Mr. Luthor, the open air concept is something I can get behind. It is a bit of a relief to feel the wind in my hair in the midst of such a crowded venue.”

They both took a sip of their respective drinks.

Indeed, their verbal spar was far more entertaining than the people around them.

~~~~~~

Tim whined, flailing his hand around until Bart gently placed an offering of crackers in it.

“But I don’t want crackers,” Tim sighed, eating the crackers.

“Sorry man, blame your immune system; that’s the only thing that’s staying down.”

Tim followed the suggestion, and blamed his shitty immune system.

“Is there a way to just…take a pill and grow a new spleen? Like in Star Trek?” Tim asked, demanding another offering of crackers with his grabby hands.

“Sorry dude, that never actually took off. The future kinda sucked.”

Tim allowed Cassie to hoist him into a sitting position and place the horsepill antibiotics in his hand.

“Come on, birdbrain, time to do some selfcare healthcare.”

Tim leaned away from Cassie and into Kon, silently begging his to save him from Cassie’s evil ways.

Kon laughed at him, the jerk.

“C’mon, Tim, take the pills.”

Tim cursed his lack of spleen.

~~~~~~

Bruce was on his best Brucie behavior at another gala, per his agreement with Tim.

“It’s just such a shame, such a shame,” Miss Lutz said for the fifteenth time, “such a bright young boy, and he had his future just stripped from him!”

“Indeed, he’ll be lucky if the board lets him stay on past this quarter,” Mr. Stephanz agreed, nodding vigorously, “Pity positions can’t compete in the real world of business, after all.”

Bruce frowned.

Bruce tuned his ears to focus on the people behind him.

All of it was variations about how unfortunate Tim was, how he was lucky the board let him keep his position, how his life was ruined , how he would never be able to excel in life or get married or any other number of inane things that didn’t matter.

Bruce tapped the champagne glass in his hand.

Tim had told him to be on his best Brucie behavior.

But Brucie did not behave.

The glass was promptly dumped on Miss Lutz, and the hand not holding it made a fist that landed squarely in Mr. Stephanz face.

Yes, this was perfectly in line with Brucie.

~~~~~~

Alfred drove in stony silence.

Bruce stared out the passenger window, avoiding the silence.

“I do hope,” the butler started, knuckles white on the wheel, “that you had a very good reason for making me pay bail to get The Bruce Wayne out of jail for assault .”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“Gotham High Society appears to be under the impression that Tim is incompetent. I just behaved as Brucie would.”

The silence returned.

“Then you will be pleased to know that on top of breaking Mr. Stephanz nose, you broke his jaw. He will need reconstructive surgery.”

Alfred was right. Bruce was pleased to know that.

~~~~~~

The alien invasion was a pain, especially when they resorted to EMPs to take out the hero’s tech.

Red Robin found himself supported by Green Arrow, who had immediately ditched his high ground to assist.

“How long does your tech need to reboot?” The older man asked, bow string snapping as he took out the snipers Red Robin couldn’t dodge.

“It’ll need about fifteen minutes for basic function, and I’m going to have to replace a few things to get the rest going,” Red Robin replied, laying into the aliens that got too close like an elderly woman beating dirt out of a rug.

“Need a pair of eyes while you wait?”

“Only the best.”

~~~~~~

Damian faced down his grandfather’s minions, back straight and no fear in his eyes.

Drake had faced them down with far less of an advantage, and he had won.

So Damian would win too.

There was no other option.

~~~~~~

When Tim had woken up to a vast canvas of blank nothing, he had thought that his world was over.

But as Tim donned his new hero moniker, he felt like his life was just getting started.

Rook walked into the streets of Gotham, head held high and cape flaring dramatically behind him, just the way he liked it.