Chapter 4
Tim exited the bar as Clint returned. He saw the young man look both ways—probably searching for Damian—before noticing Clint. “You find Damian?” he asked.
Clint nodded. “Yeah. He needed some space, but I think he’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.” Tim slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “It wasn’t all his fault.”
“Tim.” Clint put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “We’ve all made mistakes in judgment. We’ve all had moments where we’ve let someone get hurt because we rushed in headfirst without thinking.”
“I know… and Jason knows it too. It’s just… it’s Alfred, you know?” Tim stared down at the sidewalk. “He’s the glue that holds us all together.”
Clint squeezed Tim’s shoulder briefly. “And right now, he’s counting on the rest of you to realize you have to do it on your own now.”
“Bruce needs to do it,” Tim stated, shaking his head. “But he won’t. He doesn’t know how to. I don’t think he ever did.”
“Bruce grew up losing his parents as a kid, then raised by Alfred. He’s never had to be a real adult with responsibilities.”
“Exactly!”
“But we shouldn’t get angry at him for not knowing how to do this,” Clint said. “We need to help him figure it out.”
“He won’t ask for help.” Tim motioned back at the bar. “He pretty much just said so.”
Clint looked at the bar and sighed. He needed to get back in there and figure out what was going on. Jason and Barbara were both powder kegs set to explode, and neither Ric nor Bruce was in a state to deescalate them. “How bad is it in there?”
“Bad.” Tim turned to look back as well. “He’s just sitting there, listening, but only responding when directly spoken to. After you left, Barbara laid into him for not going after Damian. I started my toast mainly to get her to stop shouting and get out of there. It’s…”
Clint watched his second youngest brother. Unlike Damian, who carried the guilt, Tim looked as if he carried some personal form of responsibility. Clint was barely around for Tim’s tenure as Robin but remembered that the kid saw how bad Bruce was handling Jason’s death. He signed up to be Robin to help Batman return to his former glory. Clint wondered just how often Tim returned to being that crutch for Bruce, and if he came to define his role as Robin to serve as Bruce’s conscience, in a way.
“Tim, you’re not responsible for trying to fix this,” Clint said.
Tim looked over at Clint, confused. “I know that. I told Bruce that this time, he has to ask me to help.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Clint wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “Even if he asked, it’s still not your responsibility to take care of Bruce—all of you need to do that. Like I said before, Alfred knew that you all were stronger together. I think one of the reasons Jason failed at being Robin was because of Dick and Bruce’s feud at the time.”
“It was,” Tim admitted. “That’s why I wanted Dick to come back to being Robin first. He needed to be back in the picture to make it better.”
“I think I remember that.” It was a long time ago, but Clint remembered the short time after Jason’s death where he and Dick had a truce between them. They both dropped their respected lives and Clint accompanied Dick back to Haly’s circus. Dick processed his grief on the trapeze while Clint made sure his brother didn’t fall.
Then this punk kid arrived knowing all of Dick’s secrets, begging him to go back. Clint admired the kid’s gumption then. Now, Clint saw the anxiety and depression, the lanky features of a kid never growing into his body, and he wondered what had happened to Tim that changed him so.
If he told Tim about their connection, about how they were adopted brothers, what would that do for him? Would he hate Clint for never taking any steps to be a Robin to save him from what his life had become? Could Tim handle that knowledge of having a brother who never cared for the legacy of the Bat, when it is obvious that the Batfamily is his sole dedication?
No, it wasn’t the right time. Clint needed to learn more about his younger brothers before he told them. Maybe then. But not today.
“I don’t hear anyone yelling,” Tim said.
“Do you think Barbara killed them all?”
Tim snorted, then looked over at Clint with a smile. “I thought you’d be betting on Jason.”
“Uh, no. I know Barbara. She’s scarier than all four of you combined.”
Tim thought a moment, then nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
The bar door opened and Jason stepped out. He turned to look at Clint and Tim, and while the sunglasses hid Jason’s eyes, Clint saw Jason’s jaw set. “I think Jason and I need to talk,” Clint said, slipping his arm off Tim’s shoulder.
“Good luck with that.” Tim took a step back. “Maybe we can talk more later?”
Clint nodded. “You already hacked my hearing aid. Call out anytime.” Tim smirked at that, then waved to Jason before heading off.
Jason and Clint stared at each other, maybe twenty feet between them. Dread pooled in Clint’s gut, unsure where their future was going…
He just really hoped Jason wasn’t packing.