I have not abandoned anything and do not intend to. I did take a touch-grass break (that went longer than I expected), but I am very much still plotting and writing.
To apologize for my absence, here are a few bits and bobs of chapters 29 and 30. They are just straight up spoilers, but it's what I have coherently written so it's what I've got to give. Don't spoil yourself if you don't want to.
I want to get 29 and 30 up by mid-November at the latest. I was going to say late October but my October is very busy and I don't think that's a realistic timeline, so let's shoot for November 11/12-ish. I have 1/4th of 29 and 30 written, but I have itaot tentatively outlined into like chapter 40, so I promise that I am still working on this!
I love you! Thank you for sticking with me!
Bits and pieces of chapter 29 (spoilers)
The three quick raps announced Dick before he opened the bedroom door and popped his head in. It was just enough time for Tim to school his face into something neutral.
“Hey, I thought I heard noise in here,” Dick greeted casually, “When’d you get back?”
Tim pushed his shirt buttons through their respective holes and lied, “About half an hour ago.”
“Oh, cool.”
Through his vanity mirror, Tim watched Dick’s reflection lean against his doorframe and cross his arms. He thought of Jason and felt his throat catch at the ache.
“How was Jay’s? Have fun?”
Tim worked hard to keep his face still as the inner corners of his eyes burned and the back of his mouth soured.
A decade of socialite expectations and media training kept his tone neutral, “It was fine.” Tim did the last button and politely dismissed him, “I’m still getting ready.”
Dick hummed and said, “Yeah, I’m about to go get dressed too. Alfred picked out the Brioni for me.”
The awkward silence lingered in the space Tim was socially obligated to fill. Tim didn’t want to talk, he wanted to go back to crying in his bathroom. He wanted to drive off the Gotham bridge. He wanted Jason. He wanted Dick to stop staring at him.
Tim left his back to Dick’s perceptive eyes as an unwarranted cold, rude, and obvious Go away.
“O said to expect company, by the way,” Dick offered after too long of a beat.
Tim slipped his tie around his neck and said, “I got the report.” Get out.
“Cool.” No.
Through the mirror, Tim watched Dick uncross his arms and stick his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the door frame. It was casual, shoulders back and chest open. It was friendly and inviting, a clear sign he wasn’t going anywhere. Talk to me.
Tim put his focus on his hands and ignored Dick’s presence as obviously as he could. Take the hint. Fuck off.
Dick tried again, “That’s a good color on you.”
The blue in his tie would match Steph’s gown. Tim had brief thought of matching Jason’s tie someday, and then mentally stomped on the hope as hard as he could. He ignored Dick entirely.
Or he would have, except the weight of Dick’s gaze was impossible to ignore as he fixed his shirt collar. Dick would have no way of knowing about the faintest mark on Tim’s neck, but Tim felt the burn of it under Dick’s sharp eyes. He felt the ache of Jason’s gentle touch under the stiff cotton. The inner corners of his eyes tickled.
“Feels like you’re not really in a talking mood,” Dick started quietly, tone pitifully soft.
Tim snipped back, “I’m not.”
“Yeah, clearly, but I just saw Steph in the cave, and I think you’ve been back for longer than half an hour, bud.”
Tim heard the accusation for what it was. He fixed his shirt cuffs with careful fingers and kept his face still. “What do you want, Dick?”
“Just making sure everything's fine. That you're okay,” Dick offered gently. It wasn’t phrased like a question.
Dick was always good at that kind of thing—asking questions without actually asking them. He was as manipulative as Bruce, just more kind about it. Unfortunately for Jason, Tim had them both beat by a mile.
Tim felt the sudden, desperate desire to drop his jaw and scream until his throat was raw. He wanted to cry and throw breakable things. He wanted his eyes to itch when the tears were done, he wanted his throat to burn. He wanted to the outside to hurt like the inside.
“We’re fine, he’s fine, I’m fine,” Tim kept his tone cool. He turned away from the reflection of Dick’s perceptive eyes to pull out the watch drawer of his vanity, “It’s fine.”
“Okay,” Dick drawled, clearly disbelieving. Tim wanted him to leave more than he wanted to drive into the river. “So you guys are still being chill with each other? You’re still friends and all that?”
Tim’s fingers fumbled over the watch clasp. He stilled his hand, recalibrated, and held back the fresh wave of agony, of tears and hurt and regret and self-hatred. He took a deliberate breath and admitted honestly, “Yes, Dick. We’re still friends.”
Dick hummed quietly, and after a long beat, pushed, “So there’s nothing I should know?”
The urge to lose it washed over him. He fought the instinct to scream at Dick for it.
“Nope,” Tim said simply, casually.
“Tim,” Dick pushed, “You gotta give me something, bud. Let me in.”
He was hit with a wave of irrational anger, of grief. Fine. You want to know so bad? Fuck you.
“We’re still friends,” Tim swallowed, and fought back a biting snarl. He tacked on bitterly, “Just friends.”
It was hard to say aloud. It was harder to watch Dick’s face flicker into understanding and then smooth into a calm neutral.
Dick eloquently said, “Ah.”
----
The tense, silent drive through Park Row and into the industrial neighborhood did not help settle his nerves.
Marcus pulled into a poorly lit concrete loading dock, put the car in park, and tried Jason again. Tim listened to the faint, droning ringing in the quiet car. The tinny automated voice said, This caller is not available right now, at the tone-
Marcus let out a deep, gruff sigh at his phone. Tim watched him stare at the Voicemail screen in silence.
Marcus shoved the burner into his hoodie pocket, pulled open the center console, and grabbed a crumpled take-out napkin. He reached over Tim’s legs and dug around in the glove box, pushing aside a black pistol, until he pulled out a plastic pen.
He pushed on the overhead light and struggled to smooth out the napkin over the peeling leather center console. His pen fought him as he scratched out a string of numbers. Tim realized it was a phone number as he retraced the numbers, marking them clearly under the dull, yellow light.
Once he had the number legible, Marcus threw the pen on the floor, picked up the napkin, and paused, clearly hesitating.
“This is between us,” Marcus whispered, “Got it? You can’t fuckin’ tell him.”
Him.
Tim nodded once, small.
“Tell me you won’t tell him,” Marcus pushed quietly. His gaze flickered, searching. Tim wanted to ask him what he was so nervous about.
Tim whispered, “I won’t tell him.” He had no idea if he was lying or not.
Marcus’s hand tightened on the napkin. His jaw clenched. Tim thought he was due for a shave, the dull light made his stubble clear on his dark skin.
He swallowed nervously. Marcus whispered, “I know he’s got a soft spot for you, but I know him. I know- I know how he is.” He handed over the napkin and said, “Hide that somewhere he wont find it. And call me, if you ever need out. I can- I’ll help.”
Tim took the napkin, realized that Marcus thought that Jason was hurting him, and then felt his heart swell under his throat.
Marcus was scared of him, of Red Hood, scared for Tim, and still offered his help. Tim knew the courage it took to reach out under the heavy blanket of fear, he knew the kind of man Marcus had to be without knowing anything else about him.
Tim pushed the napkin back into Marcus's hand and said softly, “He’s not going to hurt me.” Or you, Tim thought quietly.
The weathered lines in Marcus’s face deepened, he didn’t believe Tim. He looked sad for Tim.
Marcus pushed the napkin back and whispered, “Just in case.”
Tim took it to appease him. A tiny, traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered that he might need it some day. He kills people. Tim took a deep breath, thought about Jason’s hands, how warm and gentle they were, and quieted the voice.
Marcus pushed on the light to turn it off, took the keys out of the ignition, and got out. Tim followed him.
---
---
chapter 30 bits and bobs (heavy spoilers)
Tim sucked in a slow breath and tried to regain an ounce of composure. He sighed and admitted, “No, Steph, I don’t think it’s magically going to be all better.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Steph asked honestly, she sounded pleading, “What are you doing with him? We know he tortures people, Tim. We’ve seen the aftermath. We know he kills. And even if we dropped silly little things like morals and ethics, then all that’s left is an asshole and an idiot-”
“Watch it,” Dick cut in before Tim could.
“Watch what, Dick?” Steph turned on him, “Watch Tim pick a potential lay over the rules we live by? The rules beaten into us? Watch that bastard either get Tim hurt or let Tim hurt himself? Watch-”
Tim grit his teeth, “Jason’s not going to hurt me, Steph, it’s-”
“He already has!” Steph threw her hands out, “How am I the only one speaking up right now? Let’s lay out the facts- No,” she held a hand up at Dick, “No, let me talk. Here are the facts."
Steph turned on Tim. “He has held you at gun point. He has held you at knifepoint. I don’t care if it was four years ago, it happened. He shot at Bruce,” she pointed at B, who was still deathly silent in his seat, “He decapitated- decapitated, Tim- 14 people that we know of. And like three months ago, Cass pulled a body out of the back of a truck- one of Hood’s trucks- that was so fucking mangled that we had to identify it by the single tooth it had left, which took like two weeks. He hurts people, Tim. He beats them to death. He cuts their heads off. I don’t care if they’re bad people, I don’t care if they’re monsters. Who he hurts is not what matters, Tim, get that through your head,”
Steph leveled him with a devastating look, “The fact that he is capable of such violence should make you run. I’ll speak for myself here,” she put her hand over her chest and said, “I am not capable of holding a person down and cutting their head off. I am not capable of looking someone in the eye and pealing their skin off. I am not capable of such ruthless, aggressive, indulgent violence. He likes it, Tim. I don’t care if he’s a ‘good guy’ when you’re around, when we go to the roots, he’s just a man that likes to hurt people. And speaking from experience, those men are never good men, Tim. Get that through your fucking head." Steph stared into him and said, "At his core? Jason Todd is just another angry, violent man.”
---
“Drake.”
Tim’s hands stilled in his bag for a second as he fought the urge to scream. He was done, and Damian was the last thing he could handle while at the end of his rope.
Tim straighten into a stand, rolled his shoulders back into a strong set, and turned around. Damian stood in a perfect soldier’s rest in Tim’s doorway, waiting with a blank face. Tim sighed, “What?”
“I’d like to apologize for my childish behavior.”
Tim stilled again.
“What?”
Damian cocked a judgmental brow, “Has your hearing gone with your composure?”
“Get fucked,” Tim spit out immediately, “I’m already leaving, you don’t need to try and drive me out.”
Damian smoothed his face out into a careful blank and Tim wondered if he was so obvious when he did the same thing. “I’m not trying to drive you out, Drake. I told you, I’m here to apologize."
Tim looked at the tween. He stood too dignified to be 12, but even the al Ghul had baby fat in his cheeks. His black long sleeve and grey slacks reminded Tim of a little baby Bruce, which made sense, given Damian was Bruce’s only real kid.
It was a ridiculously adult outfit for a 12 year old to be wearing.
Tim thought of when Jason said, he’s just a kid. He tried to imagine Damian in graphic t-shirt and couldn’t do it. It felt unnatural to think of him as just a kid.
Tim tried anyway.
“If Jay told you to, or Dick,” Tim tacked on, “You don’t have to. Just tell them you said sorry and it’s fine.”
Damian was just growing into his Adam’s Apple and it move when he swallowed. A clear sign of nerves.
Tim wondered what he had to be nervous about.
“Todd did not tell me to apologize, and neither did Grayson,” Damian bit out, “I am here of my own volition.”
Tim just wanted to finish packing so he could get the fuck out of the Manor and back to Jason’s, “Okay, well.” Go on then, Tim wanted to say, spit it out. He didn't.
Damian took a measured breath, set his shoulders, and said, “I’m repeating myself, but since you did not listen the first time, I’d like to apologize for my childish behavior.”
Tim wanted to shove his face in Jason’s chest and scream. He tried to keep the discomfort off of his face and kept quiet, letting Damian say his piece.
Damian looked like he was psyching himself up to say what he wanted to and Tim thought of Jason, of his cigarettes and heavy sighs and long silences.
“You don’t need to-”
“Let me finish,” Damian cut in.
Tim put his hand up and said, “Okay.”
“I-” Damian’s jaw clenched and Tim couldn’t keep his mind off of Jason even if he tried, “I have been conducting myself in a undignified manner since my arrival. I have been wrongfully aggressive. My behavior has been infantile, and I am not proud of it, and so I apologize. I will strive to conduct myself with honor and grace from here on out.”
When Damian finished, he pursed his lips, set his eyes on the floor, and waited.
Tim, for all the bitching and moaning he had ever done about Damian, did not like that apology and did not want it.
“Damian,” Tim tried to keep his tone neutral, “I don’t want you to apologize for being a kid. I want you to apologize for trying to stab me.”
“That’s what I did,” Damian argued.
Tim took in a slow breath and let it out all at once, and felt all of the fight in him leave with it.
“Okay,” Tim agreed, “Fine. You’re-” he waved a hand around uselessly and felt stupid for it, “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.”
Damian gave him a critical frown, “We’re okay?”
Tim shrugged, “Yeah.”
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
Damian contemplated for a moment and answered, “You could stab me for retribution, if you’d like,” he tacked on, “I won’t tell father.”
Tim looked at Damian, at the 12 year old that just offered up an opportunity to physically maim him, and then added that he wouldn’t tell their dad so Tim wouldn’t get in trouble.
It was so 12 to say I wont tell dad. It was also so unbelievably fucked up that Damian thought Tim would want to stab him.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Damian,” Tim said honestly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Damian’s gaze was piercing. “Then what would you like?”
Tim couldn’t help himself, “To finish packing and get the fuck out of here, mostly.”
“You’re going to Todd’s?”
Of everyone, Damian should give him the least amount of shit for it For his desire of a violent man.
The thought made him want to jump off a building.
“Yeah, I’m headed to Jay’s for the night.”
Damian pushed his chin a tick higher and asked, “May I have a ride?”
Tim, for the third time during their conversation, stilled.
“What?”
“If you’re going to Todd’s, I’d like to ride with you. To see him,” Damian clarified.
Tim couldn’t think of a polite way to say no, I want him to myself.
-
I hope you liked it! (sorry if theres an error its still a draft obvi) There's a lot of heavy stuff packed into those two chapters, but I'm excited to get them done and get to the fun stuff afterwards!
I love you! Thank you for reading! I apologize for my unexpected (and unannounced) leave and hope you forgive me!
