Tim sighed as he reached for his cowl. It had been a week since Boomerang and his… discussion (was that the right word?), no, confrontation with Bruce, and in all that time he had not heard a word from the man. That he understood, he was well versed in the 'I'm disappointed in you' silence, what made him sigh, what made him feel like he was being stabbed in the chest, was that in this whole time he hadn't heard a word from Dick either.

That was a punch to the stomach.

He didn't think that his brother would give into Bruce so readily, that Dick would agree with his punishment and not even pop over to talk about it. Tim fiddled a bit with the cowl's communication device, switching between frequencies, trying to pick something up. Dick's probably just busy with… you know, being Batman, wrangling Damian. Busy. He's probably had the 'Bruce is disappointed in Tim' speech and decided there's not much he can do until Bruce has calmed down a bit.

At least that's what Tim's been telling himself for the last week.

He could hack into whichever encoded transmission they've been using, but then he'd probably have to deal with another confrontation with Bruce and an even longer time out of the loop. It's just not worth it. He could go over to the Bunker, but he's also tired and really can't deal with the looks he'd get right now. Or Damian.

It shouldn't be more than another couple of days, maybe up to a week, depending on how much Bruce is even in Gotham with all his Batman Inc. work. He's only ever been kept out of the loop longer when Bruce was accused of murder, but Tim guesses he probably shouldn't compare this situation to that one; here he's in the wrong, it's not like before with Slade. The longest Bruce has kept him out of the loop due to his disappointment was four days, when Tim had accessed some files he really shouldn't have. Then again in Bruce's eyes almost killing Boomerang was a much graver offence.

Tim closed his eyes trying to control his breathing, and in turn the stabbing pain in his chest. He hated disappointing people; that had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember, probably being due to his parents' distance during his childhood or some other shit. It wasn't something he should e thinking about now. Not when he had patrol, not when people could be relying on him. He can't afford to be distracted.

People die when you're distracted.

Patrolling is different when you're in the dark, Tim's been doing this for a week and he's still trying to get used to the lack of chatter in his ear. It's strange and to say it's disconcerting is putting it mildly; it was like losing his safety net. The knowledge that you didn't need to necessarily need to say anything and help would be at hand, just breathe wrong and someone's (Dick's) asking if you're okay.

Tim was thankful that this was a light night; he ran his route three times, stopping two muggings and an attempted rape before calling it a night and heading home, he had a busy day at work tomorrow anyway.

You never know, maybe Bruce will be in the office and they could have a civil talk.

Yeah, Tim didn't think so either.

Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Oh yeah Tim, to stop someone thinking you're Red Robin fake a spinal injury, that's not going to take a toll on you when you have to fake it. Not at all.

Ugh. Tim trudged out to the sidewalk awkwardly, his satchel kept bashing against the crutches, buckling him at each step, but at least there would be a car waiting for him outside.

Or not.

Tim checked his watch, 7:35am, he wasn't early, and in fact he was late. So where was the car? It wasn't a weekend (he'd checked, he's done that one before) and he definitely said he was coming in this week.

At 7:50 Tim gave in and called a cab, at least he'll have something new to complain to Tam about when he gets in. When he gets in, Gotham traffic at this time in the morning is going to be murder; Bruce is so paying for this cab bill.

It takes an hour to get downtown. If he rushes he should be able to make the 9am board meeting, dependent on how fast the elevator is, of course. Tim awkwardly waves a crutch to Maggie, their receptionist, on his way through,

"Mr Wayne you-"

"I know, I know, I'm late, I'm going as fast as I can. Stupid Traffic." He replied as he gets to the elevator almost as quickly as he would have without his impairment. The board meeting is on the fiftieth floor so he doesn't have time to visit his office, as he would have liked, but heads straight to the meeting, hoping he's not that late.

"I'm sorry I'm late, traffic was- Bruce?" What was Bruce doing here; he'd given up the day-to-day running of Wayne Enterprises to Tim when he started Batman Inc. What's going on? "What are you doing here?"

Bruce was stoic in his expressionless demeanour and Tim's eyes darted to the other board members, all of whom looked sheepish, not willing to meet Tim's eyes.

"What's going on?" Tim said to no one in particular, but keeps his eyes firmly on Bruce's.

"Lucius." Is all Bruce has to say and the poor man is stepping outside with Tim.

"Tim, lets go for a walk, there seems to have been a lack of communication somewhere." And that was definitely aimed at Bruce.

Tim narrowed his eyes,

"Lucius, what's going on?"

The man glanced back at Bruce before putting an arm around Tim's shoulders and guiding him out of the door, gently closing it behind them.

"Tim,"

Tim did not like that tone; it was the consoling tone everyone used to break bad news to him. Tim had heard it far too much recently; in his heart of hearts Tim knew nobody had died but it was a tone that still made his heart skip a beat.

"Bruce has re-taken control of Wayne Enterprises, it was finalised over the weekend… he said you wanted to re-focus on school. I just assumed you-" He trailed off, Lucius just assumed Tim knew, wanted to go back to school, were finding it too much. Take your pick.

Bruce was well within his rights to retake control in his family's company, and the fact that he told the company-

Pain twisted through his chest, Tim had once again had the one stable thing in his life taken away from him, like a rug pulled from under him with not a thought for his well being from the puller.

Tim rested his hand on Lucius' shoulder, hoping to comfort the man who had become like a second (third?) father to him,

"It's not your fault Lucius, Bruce and I had a bit of an argument. This probably just skipped his mind." Tim was lying through his teeth. Lucius knew it but neither of them mentioned anything, preferring instead to let the awkward silence hang. Tim was determined not to make a scene that would further the embarrassment that was sure to come when this was leaked to the press.

"I'm guessing I should clear my desk?"

"I- yes. That would probably be best. I'll call Tam and have her come help you with everythi-"

Tam burst through the elevator doors looking rather dishevelled, "Tim! I'm so sorry! Maggie literally just called me to say you'd arrived at work, and I'm so sorry, I thought you knew and were just being your usual broody self about not telling me, I didn't think- Dad?!" She looked at Lucius as thought she was seeing him for the first time.

"Don't worry Tam, there was a lack of communication on Bruce's part, we'll talk more in my office, 'kay?"

She absently nodded, heading back to the elevator glancing back at her dad ever few steps.

"It's not his fault." Tim reassured her.

The walk to his office seemed painfully slow, but that was probably just Tim's perception. It was only now that he realised just how messy his office was, now that he needed to clear it out.

"Well the good news is that most of this is now Bruce's problem." He said shrugging at the mountains of paperwork filling every available surface; he was going to miss working on these projects, especially Neon Knights, Tim was really getting somewhere with the NK project. Tam looked at him incredulously, then her face fell.

"So what's going on?" she asked, her voice softer than Tim had heard in a long time.

"Bruce and I had… an argument? Well it was more that I almost made a stupid decision and he has chosen to show is disappointment in me by, well, cutting off all communication."

"And taking back CEO duties of Wayne E."

"Yeah, well that's more him telling me that he no longer trusts me."

"Wow. Okay, your family…"

"Yeah."

They worked in silence for a while as they searched through the piles for anything that wasn't Wayne Enterprises related. Although Tim had become accustomed to silence, it was comfortable with Tam; he didn't have to fill the void with mindless chatter like he did with Dick or the Titans. It was nice. In the end Tim had a neat little box of the few possessions he kept in his- Bruce's- office.

"So… what are you going to do?" Tam asked, carrying the box for him as they left.

"Honestly? I don't know. I probably should go back to school… or at least test out for my GED. After that, I guess I could take some online college courses, get some of my amazing skills certified." He waggled his eyebrows and Tam snorted.

"That is not a good look on you."

"No?"

"Oh god! No! Stop it!" She laughed.

The elevator slowed to a stop in the parking garage, Tim took a breath; this was it. He should be angry, he should be upstairs screaming at Bruce, not caring about the scene he would be making. He should care more, but he just felt numb. Seeing Bruce in that boardroom had been a punch in the stomach, seeing the company car and driver in front of him was like being thrown in an ice bath.

Tam gave the box to the driver, asking him to make sure he gets it into Tim's apartment.

"Hey, don't be a stranger…"

"Of course not, I mean we're still engaged, so, how about dinner at mine on Wednesday?" Tim smiled, trying to be comforting. He wasn't the only one blindsided by this.

Tam smiled, "It's a date."

She stood in the garage long after the car had sped off into downtown Gotham.

It didn't take long for the numbness to give way to anger and Tim may have to apologise to his fake fish for the ferocity that he opened his Robincave with. What right did Bruce have to do that to him? The punching bag jostled violently with each punch he landed. Without so much as a conversation? Who does he think he is? A well-aimed kick put a large dent in the side of his training dummy. Just because he's the freakin' Batman means he thinks he can do whatever he likes. In his frustration Tim missed the dummy completely, landing flat on his back. Fuck.

He spent the whole day punching inanimate objects in the hope that it will make him feel better; spoiler it didn't. By the time he should have been heading out for patrol he was collapsed in his bed, exhausted, and not planning on moving for at least eight hours.

Why was this his life?

Dinner with Tam was… nice, especially after the news of his usurping his position in W.E. hit the newspapers. Tim was pretty sure that Vicky Vale had a tent set up outside of his apartment in the hope of catching him for a comment. He's not left his apartment since Monday, they must think he's pathetic… he is being a little pathetic; Tim had just hoped that when the story broke Dick would visit. He's too busy to visit, Tim you know that.

He's just being pathetic. He should just go visit the penthouse, but there was that part of him that was still seething in anger, so that was probably not the best course of action. It would also indicate to Bruce that he was right, and Tim was nothing if not stubborn (so was Bruce, god they made a right pair), he was not the one in the wrong this time.

Instead he decided to go back out on patrol, beating up a few thugs instead of training dummies should so him some good. Just a few loops round the patrol route and home, that way he won't run into anyone that may not be too happy to see him. It's probably best for all of them if he just stays out of the way for a bit.

It was a cold night in Gotham and as Tim made his way out for patrol he made note not to stay out too long. The last thing he needed right now was to come down sick.

Being out on the rooftops was like a breath of fresh air; Tim didn't realised how much he needed it, what with all his wallowing. Nothing could beat the feeling of being Red Robin. He was out and flying, the weight of his cape fluttering behind him was familiar and comforting, the churning in his stomach was finally beginning to lift for the first time since his trip to Wayne Enterprises.

A scream shattered his reunion with the rooftops.

All play and no work meant Red Robin had a lot of energy to kill, and what better way to expend it than saving someone in distress. Six thugs were surrounding a woman wearing a uniform from the diner just down the street.

He dropped into the alleyway with a smirk, making as much noise as possible as his feet hit the cold Gotham concrete. The thugs all turned towards him, a couple were scared at the presence of a Bat, the rest looked at him as though they'd broken into Gotham National Bank and he was the gold. The woman took the intrusion as a means of escape and quickly ran out of the alley.

That's good; at least she has a sense of survival and wouldn't be hurt in what came next.

"Six on one? Now how is that fair?" He quipped as he readied his feet for the fight.

He didn't see the gun.

Tim extends his staff, pain radiated in his stomach, he had to make this quick,

"Red Robin to all points, I could use some assistance in an alley off 5th and Hamilton." Tim could tell his voice was steeped in pain; hopefully someone was listening. He silently cursed himself for not pressing the communication issue, especially as Barbara was off on vacation with her father. It would be this week he got himself into trouble.

With his injury dispatching the thugs was harder than it should be. His kicks were painful and week, he couldn't put the power or momentum into them to make them effective. He managed to knock out two of the thugs by making them run themselves into walls, but there were still four more out there.

Stun, kick, punch, move, repeat. Two more went down, but Tim's head was starting to get fuzzy. One of the men was swinging a pipe so Tim tried to dodge, his brain said duck left but he just couldn't move in time; his body couldn't keep up with his mental reactions. The pipe hit his side and Tim crumpled to the ground. The wound in his stomach was seeping blood, he had to-

Pipe guy hit him again, harder this time. Tim couldn't breathe. He could feel his ribs crack, and the guy laughed. They kicked Tim so that he rolled onto his back, and Tim could do nothing but staring up into the Gotham night as one of the men stamped on his stomach.

He screamed in pain. It came out as some horrifying gargle as Tim could taste blood in his mouth. He couldn't breathe and the man stamped on him again.

Then everything went black.

Tim came to in pain. His breath was short and painful but he was breathing. That had to be a good sign. He tried to open his eyes but his face must have been pretty swollen as all he could manage was peering through his eyelashes. There was a figure looming over him. Tim flinched away.

In what little he could see, the figure held up their hands. They were murmuring something, low and almost melodic. It was soothing and something in Tim immediately calmed down. He knew he probably shouldn't but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it anyway.

"…Tim… hold on… get you home…" the figure (man?) was saying something and as hard as Tim tried to pay attention it was like he was underwater and he just couldn't hear, but he sounded so familiar.

"Bruce?" His voice was no more than a whisper, but the man had to have heard it, he was so close. It had to be Bruce. A gloved hand came up to his face a tried to remove the cowl, his breath hitched at the pain that came with the attempt and the hand retreated.

"Bruce… you came." Tim smiled, agony ripped through him as Bruce picked him up and Tim could tell he was about to pass out again, but it didn't matter; Bruce was here and everything was going to be okay.