Sometimes - only sometimes - Terry thought he talked too much. Not when he's standing up for someone or telling some Jokerz asshole where they can stick their funny clown gimmick. That kind of talk came easy, cause it came from a place of caring, warm and righteous. But in moments like this one, when the words felt like a cutting edge, he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut.
He knew it the second Jason grabbed his face, squeezed it until his jaw ached. He wasn't afraid - Batman had trained that out of him - But deep down? He felt that first doubt begin to blossom. Not because Jason was angry, but because what if Terry was wrong? About Bruce. About everything. About his choice to be here at all.
Terry never thought Bruce would lie. Withhold things, sure. The man's secrets had secrets and Terry could dig for days and never uncover them all. But these secrets? They were rotten things, buried under layers of silence and it felt like a betrayal.
He didn't say anything when Dick tucked the phone into the utility belt. Just nodded, quiet. The kiss that followed lit up something lonely and desperate behind his ribs, but he didn't know what to do with that either. With any of it.
Bruce arrived only minutes later, stone-faced and silent. Terry had been right about that at least. Batman had found him. He just didn't know if that was the problem. He said nothing when he cut Terry free but Terry didn't need him to. That cold, disappointed stare cut him deeper than any lecture would.
He doesn't know how he managed it, but he slipped the phone free from the belt without Bruce noticing it. He never text Dick. Never even powered it on. But, he liked knowing he had it. It was a lifeline he wasn't ready to trust, but didn't want to lose.
There's a deceptive sort of calm to the way Bruce interrogated him, questions sharp and demanding, but the look on Bruce's face never changing. Terry could hear the anger underneath. He could sense Bruce's need to wrestle back whatever control he thought he might have lost when Terry took off in his suit. Terry thought he'd answered honestly, but it never seemed to matter. Nothing he said seemed to be the answer Bruce wanted. Terry's glad when Bruce finally let the whole thing go.
Sort of.
The weeks that followed were brutal. Bruce doubled his training, tightened every screw of discipline until Terry could barely breathe without hearing corrections barked at him. At least they didn't talk about that night again. Not until Terry felt brave enough to bring it up himself.
He waited until Bruce was suiting up for patrol, voice low, question a simple one he thought: What happened to Jason?
The air changed when Bruce turned to look at him with a gaze harder than any punch. Terry would've flinched if he was someone else. But he wasn't someone else. He was Robin. Batman's partner. That should've meant something.
But right then? It didn't mean shit.
The argument that followed was a brutal one. Ugly in the way only people who cared too much could be. Terry would have left the cave that night thinking he'd walk away from all this for good.
Bruce left first.
But the tension doesn't go with him. It lingered, heavy and sour like something rotting in the walls. The old man wanted to keep his secrets? Fine. He could choke on them. Terry moved through the night routine like muscle memory. Video feeds came online. Intel pulled. Systems synced and ready for use. But the commline stayed cold. Silent. He'd give Bruce his data. That didn't mean they had to talk. He paused when he saw the phone, out of place among the rest of his gear. He didn't hesitate. Just powered it up and texted the only number he found inside. No plan, no overthinking. Just instinct. And maybe, somewhere under all that quiet, simmering rage, Terry had a quiet need to reach out to someone who might actually give a damn.
no subject
He knew it the second Jason grabbed his face, squeezed it until his jaw ached. He wasn't afraid - Batman had trained that out of him - But deep down? He felt that first doubt begin to blossom. Not because Jason was angry, but because what if Terry was wrong? About Bruce. About everything. About his choice to be here at all.
Terry never thought Bruce would lie. Withhold things, sure. The man's secrets had secrets and Terry could dig for days and never uncover them all. But these secrets? They were rotten things, buried under layers of silence and it felt like a betrayal.
He didn't say anything when Dick tucked the phone into the utility belt. Just nodded, quiet. The kiss that followed lit up something lonely and desperate behind his ribs, but he didn't know what to do with that either. With any of it.
Bruce arrived only minutes later, stone-faced and silent. Terry had been right about that at least. Batman had found him. He just didn't know if that was the problem. He said nothing when he cut Terry free but Terry didn't need him to. That cold, disappointed stare cut him deeper than any lecture would.
He doesn't know how he managed it, but he slipped the phone free from the belt without Bruce noticing it. He never text Dick. Never even powered it on. But, he liked knowing he had it. It was a lifeline he wasn't ready to trust, but didn't want to lose.
There's a deceptive sort of calm to the way Bruce interrogated him, questions sharp and demanding, but the look on Bruce's face never changing. Terry could hear the anger underneath. He could sense Bruce's need to wrestle back whatever control he thought he might have lost when Terry took off in his suit. Terry thought he'd answered honestly, but it never seemed to matter. Nothing he said seemed to be the answer Bruce wanted. Terry's glad when Bruce finally let the whole thing go.
Sort of.
The weeks that followed were brutal. Bruce doubled his training, tightened every screw of discipline until Terry could barely breathe without hearing corrections barked at him. At least they didn't talk about that night again. Not until Terry felt brave enough to bring it up himself.
He waited until Bruce was suiting up for patrol, voice low, question a simple one he thought: What happened to Jason?
The air changed when Bruce turned to look at him with a gaze harder than any punch. Terry would've flinched if he was someone else. But he wasn't someone else. He was Robin. Batman's partner. That should've meant something.
But right then? It didn't mean shit.
The argument that followed was a brutal one. Ugly in the way only people who cared too much could be. Terry would have left the cave that night thinking he'd walk away from all this for good.
Bruce left first.
But the tension doesn't go with him. It lingered, heavy and sour like something rotting in the walls. The old man wanted to keep his secrets? Fine. He could choke on them. Terry moved through the night routine like muscle memory. Video feeds came online. Intel pulled. Systems synced and ready for use. But the commline stayed cold. Silent. He'd give Bruce his data. That didn't mean they had to talk. He paused when he saw the phone, out of place among the rest of his gear. He didn't hesitate. Just powered it up and texted the only number he found inside. No plan, no overthinking. Just instinct. And maybe, somewhere under all that quiet, simmering rage, Terry had a quiet need to reach out to someone who might actually give a damn.
Batman found me.