Work Text:
Red Robin was on his back, forearms-deep in intricate computer machinery. He was tucked into a dark, cramped alcove, a penlight held tight between his teeth so he could clearly see the complex web of wiring and circuitry above his head.
Though the space he was in was small enough to have its own cone of silence (broken only occasionally by Red Robin’s muttered responses to Oracle in his ear), the rest of the room where he worked echoed with a cacophony of voices, animal calls, construction equipment, and the occasional distant explosion that was probably fine. Probably. (The air pressure hasn’t been compromised yet and he’s spent pretty much all of the past week up here!) All of that sound was coming up from the vast space this room overlooked. One day (soon, if Ray’s engineers were merciful), there would be a reinforced wall of glass between this computer terminal and the main thoroughfare of the Justice League’s new Watchtower, but right now, every noise that echoed up and down the hallways below echoed up into this central hub as well.
Despite that, Robin’s situational awareness was too fine-tuned not to notice the clicking of heels as they approached the desk he was laid out beneath.
“Hey O, gimme a sec, gotta goddess who wants to talk.”
He can hear the smile in Oracle’s voice. “Sounds good, Red. Tell Diana I said hello.”
“Will do,” Tim responds as the heels stop just in front of the desk.
“Robin. May I speak with you?”
Tim shimmies out from under the console he’s working beneath and sits up, leaning back on his hands. He tilts his head all the way back so he can meet Diana’s eyes. “Absolutely, Wonder Woman. How can I help you? Oracle says hello, by the way.”
Her eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Send her my greetings as well. It has been some time since we had a chance to work together, but let her know that I am always happy to assist her Birds of Prey if they ever have need.”
“I’ll pass on the message; I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear it.”
Diana moves to sit down in one of the chairs Tim had rolled away from the desk so he could access the computer’s wiring. “As to the reason I’ve come to you,” she says, “I wish to discuss your involvement in establishing this…”
“World-encompassing Bat-surveillance system?”
She smiles a bit. “Yes, that.”
Well, shit. I was hoping I’d have a bit more time to get mine and Babs’s systems integrated with the JL’s before one of the higher-ups pulled me off the project.
Red Robin sits up straighter, folding his legs into a lotus position and resting his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked. “If your concern is my lack of familiarity with android minds, I’ve actually worked with Cyborg on his mechanical synapses several times before. I’ve also been studying Red Tornado’s schematics in detail before I take any steps that involve or are adjacent to his installation into the system, which are few and far between. He’ll be able to take care of most of it himself once Oracle and I have finished building a hardware and software structure he can integrate into. I assure you, your friend is safe with us.”
Well, as safe as our research can make him, Red Robin amends to himself. Which… O is probably the most talented non-meta computer expert on Earth, and I’m no slouch. So honestly? He’s probably the safest he could be …y’know, without a body and all.
“Thank you very much for your reassurance, but it is not out of concern for my friend that I have come. I trust that he is secure in your care. Batman would not have entrusted this task to you were you not capable.”
That… actually eliminates pretty much all of Red Robin’s theories about why Wonder Woman’s come to talk to him. If it hadn’t been about Red Tornado, he had expected her to believe he was up here working on his own whims, sans Bat-blessing. Which, honestly, would have been a fair assumption. It would not have been the first time someone discovered him sequestered beneath a computer in a Justice League HQ without consulting anyone on the actual Justice League.
“Oh. I… Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”
She gives him a full smile this time as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Of course, Red Robin. I have much firsthand experience with your quick mind and technical prowess, and Wonder Girl has told me many stories.”
Tim spares a brief thought to panic about specifically what stories Cassie had decided to share with her mentor.
Something on his face must have betrayed him, because Wonder Woman lets out a deep laugh. “All good things, I assure you. She has painted you as a very gifted leader and a brilliant tactician. She has told me that she and Supernova and Impulse owe you their lives many times over.”
Tim is pretty sure his whole face has gone bright red. He’s also pretty sure that he now has even less of an idea of why Wonder Woman has taken the time to come and talk with him. “The– the reverse is also true, Wonder Woman. I wouldn’t be here today without the members of my team going above and beyond to keep me alive.”
“Mmm, yes, Wonder Girl mentioned this to me as well. Beyond your, hmm… ‘squishiness,’ was the word she used, I believe–” (Tim barely stifles a strangled laugh of sheer delight at the idea of Cassie introducing the word “squishiness” into Wonder Woman’s vocabulary) “–as the only fully human member of your team, she said you had a tendency to lose track of the time and work yourself well past the point of exhaustion. She said that there were many days and nights when she or Supernova had to carry you from your workspace and off to bed.”
Ah, okay. So Wonder Woman’s got it in her head that I’ve been working up here for too long and I should take a break. That’s… kind of her, I guess. Thanks Cassie, for assigning me another worrywart. I haven’t even been working up here all that long today though, why would she–
“She also said that you have an affinity for caffeinated carbonated beverages.”
Red Robin’s thoughts are cut off as Wonder Woman reaches over his head and picks something up off the desk, and then passes it down to him.
Tim blinks a few times at what’s in her hand. It doesn’t stop being a purple can of Zesti. He darts his eyes back to Diana’s face to see if she’s pulling a joke of some sort. He sees only sincerity. He takes the Zesti.
“Thank… you. Again.”
“You are welcome!”
They stare at each other for a few seconds.
Tim cracks open the Zesti. Takes a sip. Realizes he hasn’t had anything to drink since beaming up to the Watchtower, and proceeds to chug half of it before Red Robin remembers himself and realizes that he’s shotgunning an energy drink in front of Wonder Woman. Who came here to talk to him. About something that was presumably not his affinity for grape-flavored carbonated beverages.
He lowers the can. Wonder Woman is still looking at him, but the look isn’t one of judgement or disgust or even amusement. No, it’s almost like she’s… evaluating his reactions? His enjoyment of the drink, maybe?
His suspicions solidify as she gives a short nod, as if to affirm to herself a job well done.
What the fuck.
“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, or am ungrateful for the personalized beverage service, but can I ask about… whatever it is you came to talk about?” He tries.
“Ah, yes. Very to-the-point, much like your father. I appreciate that in a co-worker.”
Father? Co-worker? Red Robin thinks bemusedly as she continues.
“I have come as a representative of the core members of the re-formed Justice League to ask something of you. Before I explain, we wish you to understand that you are under no obligation to assent, nor are we doing this to ensure your continued membership in the League. Of course, we do wish you to remain a part of this organization, because — as I have already stated — you are quite talented and would be a valuable asset to the work we do, but that desire is separate from this request. Nightwing insisted that it was imperative you knew this. You could assent, and then tomorrow decide to hang up your cape and never set foot on the Watchtower again, and your original answer would stand. Does all of this make sense?”
Red Robin prides himself on his control over his external reactions. He’s kept a neutral expression through torture, through rage, through heartbreaking loss and the most hilarious and improbable Looney Toons-esque chicanery.
He’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor right now.
He realizes that Wonder Woman ended that series of outlandish statements with a question. He shakes his head sharply in an attempt to knock loose the words to respond. “Y-yeah. Uh, yes. I understand. I think.”
She nods and continues as though she has not completely upended his perception of his place within the broader superhero community. “Excellent. Know that if you have questions you are free to ask them, and you may take some time to decide if you need. That said, our request is as follows:
“Many of us were aware, and Batman has confirmed, that you have dubbed your personal headquarters, your own ‘Batcave,’ as it were, your ‘Nest.’ Is that correct?”
Red Robin already used up all his words, so he just nods, eyes wide beneath his domino. Who else gives a shit what I call my vigilante base?
“Good! I am glad we were not misinformed. Our desire, to honor your role in establishing the Justice League’s new network — as well as in appreciation for all the work you have done for us in the past, both as individual heroes and as the Justice League entire — is to bestow that same name upon a place within the Watchtower, as an homage to your own Nest’s role in your personal research and worldwide communications network.
“We would like to call this space,” she gestures around them to encompass the consoles, the monitors, and the wall-to-wall window overlooking the main thoroughfare of the Watchtower, “The Robin’s Nest.”
Tim had thought that Diana had already said enough to cause his brain to blue screen. He had been wrong.
He only realizes that he’s been frozen for almost half a minute when she leans forward, a furrow in her brow.
“Red Robin, if you do not wish this, as I said, there is no obligation and there will be no hurt fee-“
Red Robin cuts her off by holding out a hand, palm outward. “One… one moment please.”
She nods, sitting back, face still pinched in concern.
He stares down at his lap for a few seconds, trying to force his expression back into neutrality, then looks back up to meet her eyes. “Whose idea was this.”
Wonder Woman blinks. “As I said, the core members of the Justice League…”
“No,” he shakes his head, trying to quell the wave of emotions currently clamoring for his attention. “I mean who, initially, brought me specifically up in the conversation.”
“Well,” she tilts her head, thinking. Tim is struck by an overwhelming wave of relief that she was the one to come talk with him about this. They might not have had a very close relationship, but Diana was one of the few people in the world whose words he didn’t feel the need to closely analyze, who he could trust to be absolutely honest with him. She might not always answer questions, but she would always be clear in her refusal and would explain why she wouldn’t (or couldn’t) answer, so long as she was able. She didn’t have a single manipulative bone in her Amazonian body.
“I believe Nightwing brought you up first, when he informed Batman that the two of you had arrived together and you had come up here to work. Martian Manhunter asked after your health, and Batman told him you were well.”
Batman hasn’t seen me out of a mask in almost a year, Tim thinks but doesn’t say.
“While we were discussing updates to technological installations aboard the Watchtower, Cyborg mentioned how integral you and Oracle have been to the process. It was then that Booster Gold spoke up and asked whether or not you were the same Robin who had brought us the information about Darkseid’s omega beam that allowed the Justice League to prevent it from impacting the twenty-first century. I confirmed that you were, and he said something along the lines of ‘Damn. That’s one smart bird you got there, Batman.’”
Red Robin barely remembered talking to Booster Gold (or Rip Hunter, for that matter). All he can recall from those few days waiting with the League was the sheer force of will he had to employ to keep his voice calm and even and rational-sounding as he presented his evidence, first to Wonder Woman–
and when she had believed him, had looked at his work and accepted his evidence as real and began to ask him clarifying questions, it had felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, like the first breath of fresh air after a week-long research bender in the ‘cave, like coming home after a successful mission and curling up in a pile of blankets and pajamas with Kon and Cassie and Bart, reveling in the certainty that all of them were safe, that he was safe, that he could, for just a moment, take a deep breath, and allow his mind to slow… allow himself to rest…
–and then to the rest of the Justice League–
standing tall, Wonder Woman by his side, he just had to explain it one more time and then the experts would be able to finish the plan where Red Robin had left off, and then he would have done his job, he would have gotten Batman back, so just this one last step, Timothy, keep your head held high and your voice crisp and clear, use your tone to imbue others with urgency while still speaking slowly and clearly, emphasize the lack of time but do not allow any trace of worry or panic enter your tone, employees do their best work on a deadline when you make it clear you believe them capable of doing so
–and then he should have been done. Let the time-travel experts handle it.
But then Wonder Woman had called him back. Told him Bruce was a nuclear bomb hurling directly at them. Asked Red Robin for his help, as Batman’s partner, to predict what Bruce would do so they could stop him, could form a plan to keep him from coming home.
Tim had known Diana wouldn’t be asking this of him if they had any other plan, any other choice.
She looked like she’d been crying.
She’d hugged him, and it had been so long since anyone had done that but Tam. Tim had forgotten how warm it made him feel to be held close by someone bigger than him, knowing they were using their strength to comfort him, to keep him safe. It had been perfect. It had been torture. He’d begun crying, too.
Because he’d found Bruce. And the Justice League wanted Red Robin to go out of his way to make sure Batman stayed lost. Stayed dead. They had asked him to doom another father to death–
“… if you don’t get here, it’s not your fault. I need you to know this, Tim — it’s not your fault. Okay? You didn’t do this. I love you, Tim. I love you just like your mother loves you. What you do… for all those people… it’s worth it, Tim. Never question it. It’s worth it.”
–and Tim… he couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t. Not to Dick, not to Damian, not to Jason, not to Cass, not to Babs, not to himself.
So when Red Robin made his second report to the Justice League, he reviewed the specific evidence of Bruce’s path through time. He presented a rough timeline of how often someone matching Bruce’s (or Batman’s) description appeared in historical records. He laid out a few ideas for how they could prevent Bruce’s return to the twenty-first century from causing a cataclysmic event.
He did not propose any sort of plan to stop Batman from returning at all.
If any of the present Justice League members were aware of this omission, they didn’t say anything. Red Robin was pretty sure Wonder Woman had noticed. He was pretty sure she wanted her friend back, too.
So he told them that only the time travelers had a chance of actually stopping Bruce (and Bruce could outwit Ra’s al Ghul with a broken spine and a crushed rib cage and his child in jeopardy; amnesiac-Bruce could handle Hal Jordan and Booster Gold any day) and Red Robin put the pieces of his plan into place.
And then there was the waiting. Standing and waiting for days, minimal sleep, checking and rechecking the lockdown protocol, making sure everyone was on high alert, and most importantly, going over what he was going to say if Bruce managed to get there before the League could find him—
he has to say the right thing, trigger the right memories, force the right response because Bruce needs him, Batman needs him, needs a bright and bold Robin to throw himself in between the Bat and his target and remind him of himself, remind him of his purpose or else Batman will be lost when Robin could have saved him if he’d only had the right words
—and then.
There was Bruce. And Red Robin’s plan had worked… for a moment.
(“No plan survives first contact with the enemy, baby bird!”)
Because the members of the League were on the team for a reason. It had taken them only a few seconds to break through the lockdown and barge in. And then Bruce, using whatever black substance he’d brought back from his odyssey, took them out. All of them. And when he’d defeated them all, there he had stood, a ticking time bomb in the form of a man, looking at the last person in the room.
“Out of my way. There’s danger here! Ultimate danger!”
And there had been Tim. Just Tim.
No domino, no cowl, no backup.
No tech or spleen or bo staff or birdarangs.
Just Tim and the words he hoped would be enough.
“If something’s wrong, you have to let us help you. We can’t lose you again. Partners, Bruce.”
And then…
There had been the genius Bat-plan Red Robin had been counting on, and Bruce was himself again, he was out of whatever gunk had come back with him, and he had caused time and reality to fracture, but Red Robin could deal with that because it looked like Bruce would be okay, so Robin’s job was done because Batman was safe now, so Red Robin could direct his attention to figuring out the rest of this Darkseid stuff with the League so Bruce had time to recover and a world to come back to, and then,
Wonder Woman had said the words that still echoed in his nightmares:
“Batman must die.”
He hadn’t, obviously. Well, he had, in the way that you are technically dead when your heart stops, but Red Robin had done this particular dance before.
He told Wonder Woman and Superman to bring Bruce to a clean body of water, where they used Superman’s frost breath to lower the temperature until Bruce’s heart slowed to a stop.
Once the omega energy had fully bled out of his cold body, it wasn’t too hard to warm him back up and get his heart going again.
Well, it actually had been hard. And dangerous. For a medical procedure. But considering everything that had happened that day? That week? That year? A difficult and dangerous medical procedure had ranked pretty low on Red Robin’s active scale of concerns. He was pretty sure he had been in more danger when the League of Assassins “doctor” cut out his spleen than Bruce was at the moment his heart stopped.
“–nd then several other heroes spoke up–” Red Robin jolts back to the present as he realizes that Wonder Woman is still talking to him as though she has not just sent him whirling through the lingering memories of one of the most stressful weeks of his life.
He finds that he’s bowed his head, and he’s picked up a piece of copper wire to twist and bend between his fingers. (Harley noticed him unconsciously fidgeting with something a few months ago and mentioned off-hand that she hadn’t known Tim had ADHD too, that they could be “hyperactive hyperbesties,” and Tim had gone on a weeks-long research bender about the disorder only to discover that “hyperfixating” on a topic or interest was a common pattern among adults with ADHD. Needless to say, Tim was still recovering from that particular bout of psychic damage.)
“Cyborg recounted how intelligent you are,” Diana is saying, and oh cool, now we’re talking about what literal superhero legends think about me, a normal human who had to beg a billionaire with a bat-fursona to let me wear short pants and fight crime in alleys. “He described how quick-thinking you are in the field, how you could read a battle in one moment and have a plan ready the next, one that made use of all the skills on your team. He said that he left the Teen Titans in your hands because he knew you were the kind of leader he could count on to keep them on track and to ensure they would be safe and happy.”
Tim’s pretty sure his face is as red as his suit. “Cassie and I co-led,” he mumbled. “I actually had to leave her in charge pretty much immediately.”
“Which was a very sound decision, Robin. And once you were able, you went back. Wonder Girl–” Tim flinched at Wonder Woman’s (likely unintentional) reminder to stick to aliases while on the Watchtower, “–told me that it took much convincing — that you were unsure of your welcome upon your return, and that you often apologized for giving instructions in the field, worried about undermining Wonder Girl’s leadership.”
“Wonder Girl is an excellent leader; I was lucky to be on her team.”
Wonder Woman smiled at him. “And she is lucky to be on yours. I have not always been the mentor to her that I was for the first Wonder Girl. This is a regret of mine, and I hope that the steps I have taken have begun to repair and strengthen our relationship.
“But Red Robin, you and your Young Justice, and then your Teen Titans, helped Wonder Girl grow and thrive. You stood beside her through her confrontations and conflicts with gods, and you did not allow yourself hesitation or fear. You and she have each taken on each others’ burdens as your own. You have a bond stronger than blood, stronger than the claim of the Olympians or the Amazonians. I owe you my thanks for caring for the one entrusted to me when I failed to properly do so.
“Superman agreed, said that you and Young Justice made a family and a home for Kon-El before the Kents were brought into the picture, and that you facilitated Kon’s re-introduction to his family after a Crisis removed him from their memory. Superman, too, owes you thanks for caring for one of his own when he failed to do so.
“The Flash, the one who grew up on his own team of Titans, said something similar — that you were the first to give Impulse a place in this time period where he felt he belonged. Impulse is unique, and The Flash has regrets similar to mine and Superman’s — he wishes he had done more to mentor the young speedster when he first arrived. We know that Impulse’s caregivers did their best, but were unable to make him truly feel at home. Young Justice was his home. His family. You all were and are family to each other.
“Green Arrow said much the same — said you took in the new Speedy without judgement and without hesitation, at a time when both would have been common reactions to someone in her position.
“Plastic Man said that you had been a great friend and protector to his son Luke when Luke was a member of your Titans. That you were willing to stand between them and protect Luke’s privacy from his father, despite both of them being exceptionally powerful metahumans in their own right.
“Martian Manhunter did not contribute with many words, but he did say that without you, he fears he would have lost Miss Martian years ago, and this was accompanied by a powerful wave of gratitude and a bit of the type of grief that comes from seeing the ones you love hurt. Aquaman said that he, too, owes you a great debt for your role in his protegè’s commitment to the good.”
Tim shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut, feels a few tears drip down onto his lap. “I… I…”
“And that is not to mention,” Diana continues, her voice growing soft but remaining just as sure, “all of the ways you and your teams have saved the world many times over, or the ways you personally have been invaluable to the efforts of Batman and the Justice League as a whole.”
Wonder Woman straightens in her chair. “Though it was not at all part of the plan for this meeting, after this impromptu discussion it was unanimously agreed that we do something to honor you during this period of transition for the Justice League, both to recognize you for your actions and to show the sincerity of the Justice League’s widening of our roster.”
She leans in again, a private little smile on her face, her tone excited like she’s inviting him in on a secret. “But that last part was merely an excuse. We would have done this regardless of any expansion in the League’s roster.”
“But… but…” Distantly, Tim realizes he’s shaking. “I’m just– just a Robin, I’m just helping out because I can, I didn’t do anything to– Why? Is there some– something else you need or, or want? Batman said I’m a part of the League now, you can all just ask, you don’t need to– to make up a reason–”
Wonder Woman rises from her chair and kneels down on the ground in front of him, moving a few tools out of her way so she can sit close and take his hands.
“Timothy,” she says quietly, leaning her head down to see his face, and in his shock at hearing her say his name (not his call sign, not either title that had never really belonged to him, she said his name), he raises his teary eyes to look into hers. She smiles at him. “You are a hero. Just as much as Batman, as myself, as any member of the League. You have sacrificed much for this life, for the lives of those you love, for the good of the world and even the good of worlds beyond this one. And for so long, you have gone unsung.
“This is not a bribe, or payment for services rendered, or some other means of obtaining your favor. It is merely our attempt to give you some small part of the recognition you more than deserve.”
And that’s the final straw. Tim unfolds his legs and tilts himself forward and into her outstretched arms, burying his face in her shoulder, his body still shaking. “Auntie Di, really? Really really? Are you all sure? And this… it isn’t some– some test? Or some way to– to make sure I don’t go dark?”
“Oh, Timothy.” She wraps one arm around his shoulders and the other behind his knees, gathering him up and into her lap in the way only someone her size can. “Of course we are certain,” she whispers into his ear. “And I would never consent to test or try you in the way you have described. It would be cruel, and I would not allow any member of the League to implement such a test, were I aware of a plan to do so.” She lowers her voice. “But based upon my knowledge of your mentor, and upon your need to ask such a question, I imagine I am too late to prevent your enduring such a trial.”
Tim nods against her shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. He feels her sigh and tighten her arms around him in response.
While Tim’s working to wrangle control of his emotions, Diana maneuvers him so his head is tucked under her chin. She begins to run a hand through his hair, gently tugging on the places where it had become knotted while he was lying on his back beneath the desk.
They sit there for a time, listening to the background soundtrack of superhero chaos drifting in through the window. Tim is grateful for it, because it means he’s not sniffling into an awkward silence.
Once it has been a minute or two since Tim’s last hitched breath, and once Diana has deemed his hair sufficiently untangled, she allows him to slide back out of her lap to sit on the floor.
Diana reaches out to place her hands on his shoulders, catching his gaze and holding it. “Timothy, please know that you more than deserve to be honored for the incredible things you have done. Truly and sincerely, this is all we wish to do.
“But,” Tim’s heart hitches in his chest and his muscles tense, only to immediately relax again as she leans forward with that look on her face, the mischievous grin and sparkle in her eye that invites him into a private joke. “The members of the League are also very well aware of the ways you Birds and Bats favor the shadows and eschew any public acknowledgment, even if the ‘public’ is only the hero community.” She quirks an eyebrow. “We have all heard many times how Nightwing feels about his own statue in front of Titan’s Tower.”
Tim lets out a watery chuckle. He reaches up and taps the control on his domino to lift the lenses so he can rub the heels of his palms over his eyes. “I appreciate you not erecting a statue of me that I’m forced to look at every time I come up to the Watchtower.”
“Indeed. Though I feel I must inform you, Green Lantern did advocate briefly for such a monument.”
“Of course he did.”
“Mmm. The rest of us rejected that idea quite quickly. I believe Nightwing would have charged and thrown one of his escrima at Green Lantern if we had not.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s been looking for an excuse to do that at a JL meeting for a few years now.”
“Ah,” Diana leans back, a pensive look on her face. “I shall endeavor to create such an opportunity for him. As Batman would say, it will be a test of Green Lantern’s situational awareness.”
Tim laughs again.
Diana smiles, and settles back to sit on her heels. “Amidst all the discussion and silliness and threatening glares, it was actually Arsenal who suggested the name ‘The Robin’s Nest.’”
Tim raises an eyebrow. “Really? Wow. I haven’t had a whole lot of opportunities to interact with Arsenal.”
“Such may be the case, but when asked why he felt confident in his suggestion, Arsenal cited his familiarity with ‘several brands of Bat crazy.’” She briefly lifts her hands and makes some incredibly over-exaggerated finger-quotes.
(Tim suspects Cassie may be to blame for teaching those to Diana as well. He makes a mental note to buy her the fancy caramel corn she likes.)
“I believe that Arsenal was consulting with Nightwing while Nightwing was plotting his best angle for an attack on Green Lantern,” Tim snorts at that, “so I am confident in the soundness of his reasoning. It is as follows: The title “The Robin’s Nest” pays homage to a role that has, at this point, been passed between several younger heroes, many of whom are now leaders of hero teams of their own, and all of whom have been well-trained in research and analysis and strategy. Thus, it is a thematically appropriate title for the future purpose of this space, referencing the work of several young heroes, all of whom have been invited to join the new League.
“But in reality,” Diana continues, smiling, “the appellation is very specific to you, Timothy. Not just in its reference to your own vigilante base, but to the kind of role you have played as Robin. As Batman’s partner, as the leader of Young Justice, as a member and leader of the Teen Titans, in your role as a Gotham vigilante, and as a collaborator with the Justice League, you are an incredible asset. During your time as Robin, ‘Robin’ became a researcher, an information gatherer, the center of a worldwide web of informants and allies. He was a leader whose skills lay in his ability to analyze an ongoing situation and direct other heroes to where they were most needed.”
…where the fuck did Roy hear all of that? He wasn’t around Mia or Cissie very much, he and Oliver only recently started talking again, I know for a fact that Batman wasn’t bragging about me at JLA meetings… Dinah maybe? But I only work with her through Oracle, and Babs does most of the information work on those ops, so… Okay, try working from the other end. Damian talks with Connor, but probably not about me and definitely not positively if I do come up in conversation… Dick probably talked about me with the Outsiders sometimes, but I didn’t think he kept super close tabs on me back then? And I thought he lost contact with Roy after he split with them. Who else… oh. Oh holy shit. You know who spent a lot of time with Roy, right after he spent like three or four years actively stalking me?
Holy fuck I’m gonna razz on Jason so hard next time I see him.
Diana reaches out to take Tim’s hands. She leans forward and presses a firm kiss to his forehead. “This is no gift, no bribe; it is merely an acknowledgment of the way the hero community — and the world as a whole — has been shaped by all that you have done and all that you have sacrificed. You deserve this honor and much, much more."
Tim’s pretty sure he’s just going to melt into a Tim-sized goop on the floor of this half-finished computer room. He takes a shaky breath. “And you said it’s– it’s not conditional on me being Rob– Red Robin? On being a hero?”
“No, Tim,” she says firmly. “Just a gift, no strings attached. The decision is entirely in your hands. If you consent, this room will be ‘The Robin’s Nest’ in perpetuity, and nothing short of your own firm request will change that.”
Tim takes another breath, holds it in for a second, then lets it out.
If he’s honest with himself, he had known what his answer was as soon as Diana had presented the offer; he had just wanted to ensure he was fully aware of the existence of any commitments or expectations hidden in the fine print. “Yes. I– My answer is yes. I mean, if this really is what you all want to do, I’m okay with it. You have my permission… for what it’s worth.” He smiles a bit, then looks down at his lap.
“Oh, Tim. Little bird.” She squeezes his hands. “You have had too many things taken from you and bestowed upon another. In this? Your permission is worth everything.”
He thought he had gotten his emotions back under control. He had been wrong. With those words, something inside him, some part of himself that had stood firm and kept him going in spite of broken promises and misplaced trust, shatters.
Tim begins to sob in earnest, then. Diana pulls him back into her arms, and he curls himself into a ball and just… lets himself be held. He loses track of how long he sits in Diana’s lap as she rocks him back and forth, humming a gentle tune into his ear.
After what could have been anywhere between five and thirty-five minutes, Tim lifts his head from where it’s been resting on Diana’s broad shoulder. He wipes his eyes again and chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I reacted like that. Uh, I might have said it and forgot? But I don’t think I did, so: thank you. This is a huge honor. I… just, thank you. I’d appreciate if you could pass that along to the other Leaguers too.”
“Oh, my little Robin.” She hugs him, and he hugs her back. “There is no need to apologize for becoming overwhelmed with emotion. You are lighter, now that it is free, yes?”
And after a quick self-check-in, Tim finds that… he is lighter. Jason or Harley would probably have something to say about “emotional neglect” and how “external acknowledgement of both your achievements and the ways you’ve been hurt are validating” but right now he’s not particularly interested in what they’d have to say.
He’s just feeling…
Like the to-do list in his head has stopped flashing every item at him in neon red.
Like the world won’t end if he stops for– for just a minute, just to breathe.
Like maybe… what he has already done could possibly be enough on its own.
Like something in him that had been off-kilter has finally settled into place.
It’s not a feeling he’s experienced often.
Tim takes one deep breath, and then another, appreciating the new lightness in his chest.
Red Robin is walking down to the Boom Tubes a few hours later, Bat-software securely installed in… in The Robin’s Nest, holy fuck — when he spots Skeets hovering down the hallway in his direction.
Red Robin raises a hand in greeting. “Hello, Skeets. How are you doing? Are you and Booster involved in any projects up here right now?”
“HELLO RED ROBIN. I AM WELL. WE ARE NOT INVOLVED IN ANY PROJECTS AT PRESENT. BOOSTER GOLD IS RESTING IN HIS QUARTERS.”
Red Robin stops in front of the controls to the Boom Tube and starts inputting the codes and coordinates to get home. Home to– to– to my Nest, which is now like, the Original Nest or– or something… Hmm, maybe I’ll get Steph and Cass and Kon and Bart and Cassie and have a brainstorming session or something. Oh fuck, I gotta like, tell people.
Skeets moves to hover above Red Robin’s shoulder while he types. “WERE YOU WORKING ON A PROJECT TODAY, RED ROBIN?”
“Yup. I was working to get things set up for Red Tornado up in the–” his words caught in his throat.
He realizes suddenly that he… may have made a mistake, with this whole Robin’s Nest thing. Red Robin had not considered the psychic damage he might incur each and every time he had to look someone in the eyes (or pair of lights on their front view screen masquerading as eyes, as the case may be) and say the words “The Robin’s Nest” out loud.
“RED ROBIN? ARE YOU WELL? I CAN PERFORM A SCAN OR GO TO REQUEST ANOTHER’S AID, IF YOU DESIRE.”
Red Robin clears his throat. “I’m,” he coughs again, “I’m good. Uh, I was working up in th-the Robin’s Nest” (fuck yeah, says a voice in his head that sounds like Steph, got through it once without dying, n i c e) “to get things ready for Red Tornado.”
Somehow, he is absolutely certain that Skeets is looking at him with a shit-eating grin on his face, despite the fact that Skeets does not have teeth. Or a face.
“OH? I SEE THAT WONDER WOMAN WAS ABLE TO SPEAK TO YOU. I AM GLAD YOU ACCEPTED. BOOSTER DID HIS WORK WELL IN THE MEETING. IT IS GOOD WHEN THINGS STAY ON COURSE. HAVE A PLEASANT REST OF YOUR DAY, RED ROBIN.” With that, Skeets begins to drift away.
It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in, then Tim’s mouth drops open. “Hold on. Skeets. Skeets! What– what’d you just say? What course? Skeets?!”