Chapter One

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The days have been passing slowly, painfully. 

It's been a month and a half sense he heard from his family, a month and a half sense he brought Bruce home.

Did they even realize that he hadn't contacted them? Had they even blinked when he didn't show up for family dinner on Sundays, or when he hadn't logged a report into the Batcomputer in days?

Would they ever?

He felt... empty. Is emptiness even a feeling? Well, it is now, because that's what Tim was feeling, that was the only way to describe it. Steph, Kon, Bart. They were gone. The love of his life and his two best friends were dead. Bruce was back, but it was no different then from before. 

Except now, Tim wasn't Robin. He was Red Robin. 

And Red Robin doesn't belong with the bats. His family had made sure he knew that. 

His family. God, could they even be called that? Hadn't he been nothing more than a soldier to them? A placeholder, replacement, pretender... Why? Why did he love them? It's obvious the feeling wasn't mutual. 

Bruce had treated him like nothing more than a soldier. Sending him home to that awful, cold, empty home each night without so much as a question as to where his parents were. Treating him like trash, sending him into multiple panic attacks, all of which were just to test his abilities. To Bruce, Tim was nothing more than a toy to be used for his own purposes.

Dick. He had thought Dick was his older brother, that he would stand beside him no matter what. He wasn't expecting him to fire him from Robin. To give the only thing Tim had left to the person who had tried to kill him on numerous occasions. He didn't think that Dick wouldn't even bother to tell him, but by the time he'd tried, it was too late. And then he suggested Arkham. Because Tim was crazy for thinking Bruce was alive even though HE HAD PROOF. So crazy, in fact, that the only possible solution was to send Tim to the jail where all the insane, murderous, villains of Gotham resided. Arkham. And then, not even an apology when Tim turned out to be right. Dick betrayed him, making him believe he was actually loved, only to pull it all away the second Tim got truly comfortable. 

Then his Robin, the boy who inspired Tim, the boy who made Tim want to keep living, keep moving, keep fighting. Jason Todd. The Red Hood, who came back to life and tried to kill him. In Titans Tower, his safe-haven. Jason Todd who called him 'Replacement' and hated Tim with every fiber of his being. His Robin hated him. And all Tim did was try to keep his legacy going.

And Damian. God, Damian. Tim had been so excited to learn he'd gotten a little brother. Tim had always wanted a little brother, someone to pass his knowledge onto, and to be there for when things got tough. Tim had wanted, so badly, to be able to teach Damian all he knew about being Robin, he wanted to be the first Robin to be able to pass down the mask by choice. But then Damian also tried to kill him. And nobody cared. 'He's just a child, Timmy.' 'Don't take it to heart, Tim. He's still learning. Give him time.' So Tim tried. He tried to ignore the taunts, the mean words, the painful glares, the murder attempts. It didn't matter, in the end. Tim wouldn't pass on the mantle, Dick had made that choice for him. 

So, why then? Why did he care about them so much?

(Because they gave you more attention then your parents did. Why couldn't that have been enough?) Inner Tim was right. Why couldn't that be enough? It was no wonder everyone hated him. He just kept asking for more and taking and taking and taking. No fucking wonder. 

A familiar noise reached his ears.

An alert. 

There was an Arkham breakout. 

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