Archive of Our Own ^beta

The air is putrid, smells like blood and ash and grief.

I can’t breathe.

He stares back at me, a cold stare with my face hidden by a cowl I never wanted.

The cold metal of the gun presses to my temple as I take a shaky breath.

This is it

This is where I die

And that’s ok. It’s all ok. I’ll be with Kon, and Bart, and Steph, and my parents. Everyone. Everything.

Was I ever that needed anyway?

I can’t stop the tears from running down my face, I can barely choke out the words anymore as I speak low and calm.

“Starting with us.”

He, well me. Stares almost terrified. Shouldn’t he be happy? I’m ending a fate of murder, of anguish, and grief.

I don’t want to be him.

I can’t be him.

Never.

My suit is heavy, it’s like a ticking memory of where I am. What will Cassie think when I’m gone? Will she hold me in her arms like with Konnor and scream in her lonesome pain.

She doesn’t deserve that, she’s lost so much and now she’ll lose me? I’m not even that ‘here’ anymore to be honest.

Who will I be when this is done? A hero or a coward?

The Batman with my face speaks again, a more rushed tone

“Think about what you’re doing-“

I hate him.

I hate him with every fiber of my being with every heartbeat and thought. I hate him with every atom on this fucking earth.

I hope he rots.

I hope I rot.

God I hate myself I hate who I am supposed to be

What did I ever do? What did I do to deserve this? Aren’t I a kid too???

Why do I have to watch after Bruce? He’s an adult. I’m not even 17 yet.

Breathe Tim. Breathe.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking about. What I’m going to become.” My throat feels scratchy and raw

I push the trigger down slightly

Relief rushes through my body at the slight action, it’s not enough.

I need to be mutilated, I need to bleed out and have my limbs ripped from me. I don’t deserve a heart I don’t deserve a brain.

I need to die. I need to do this for the sake of everyone.

So why am I so scared of the inevitable?

“A saver of lives?”

Yet again. I hate him. I fucking hate him. I HATE HIM.

Breathe Tim. Breathe. Fuck.

“A killer.”

I focus on the gun. The metallic feeling against my temple, the bloody taste on my tongue. The uncomfortable itch of my domino mask. When was the last time I took it off?

When was the last time I took any of this off?

When was the last time I wasn’t Robin

Robin.

I’m Robin.

Robin looks at the fake Batman. The Robin Batman. The… who is that? Who am I?

What am I?

Gungungungun

There’s a gun against my head.

Gun. Gun. Gun.

I’m going to kill myself.

God I should’ve done this sooner. I should’ve saved everyone from this fate.

It’s my fault. My existence. My life. Everything.

I’m not even a real Robin, I’m a sad replacement for what was. A cry for help. A desperate cover up.

Would my mother cry? Would she grab at my arms with bloodied wrists and dig her nails into my skin.

Would she beg for forgiveness? Would she hit at my chest screaming ‘why, why my son? Why him? Why him why him why him what did I do.’

I killed her.

I killed my dad.

And my best friend.

I killed everyone by being this. By being Robin. By existing.

God I need to die. I need to throw up. I need to pull the trigger

“Conner and Bart have zero chance of coming back.”

I let out a deranged sob as I press down on the trigger.

Everything else drowns out.

A gunshot.

Blood that’s not mine.

Then I’m sitting on the floor in front of a body, Prometheus? Fuck. Right. Think Robin, where are you?

I don’t know.

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

I want my dad.

I want to pull that fucking trigger again and again and again until it blows my thoughts into the wall.

I want to grab one of those knives from the kitchen and Wayne manor and mutilate my body again and again and again. Not one of the nice ones of course, I wouldn’t want Alfie to have a ruined set. He bought a new one recently, maybe I’d leave money for a replacement.

Replacement.

I’m a replacement.

I never mattered

I never breathes a word that mattered to any of them

I was just a pawn used to make people feel better.

Did I ever deserve anything else?

I wish I had a blade

I wish I had my dad

I miss my dad

And my mom

I miss Kon

God I miss everyone

I miss Tim

Who’s Tim? Who who who

Why.

Why

What did I do?

God if you can hear me please. I don’t want to be here anymore

I pray to a god I don’t believe in. A god I resent. A god I was never taught to love.

Was I ever taught to love anything?

The Batman with my face hidden away by that god awful cowl tosses the gun to me.

I catch it.

The metal is cool in my hands, a small relief of pain to have an option.

He leaves and I am alone.

I look at Prometheus.

Breathe Tim- Robin. Breathe robin breathe.

I press the hun to my temple and my eyes close

This is right

I need this

Another robin; bloodied and battered in anguish of a failed Batman.

I pull the trigger and all leaves.

_________________________________________

If this fate is inevitable; will death stop it? Or will the fates shove me back time and time again. Will I be forced to spectate a killing future. The gods laugh at me. The walls close in on me as loneliness becomes more apparent. Robins were never fit for guns. And Batman was never fit to be alone. Are we all just killers in a mortal innocents' flesh?