Tim had been trying. He really had. After the accident with the Joker, the "Joker Jr." phase had haunted his mind, but that was a long time ago now. He’d pushed it down as best as he could, but sometimes, when the nightmares hit, it felt like he wasn’t just reliving it in his head. The laughter. The twisted smile. That grotesque grin the clown had forced on him, like a grotesque mockery. The scars around his mouth were permanent—reminders of everything he'd endured. But they weren’t as painful to look at anymore. They weren’t as raw. He was healing.

He wasn’t the same as he had been before. He didn’t laugh so loudly, and when he did, it was quieter, softer. But sometimes, when he caught Dick’s gaze, he could see the concern there—the barely concealed worry. The eldest of the family did his best to hide it, but Tim knew him too well to miss it. They all thought he was fragile, on the edge of snapping. Like one small trigger would set him off. And yeah, maybe that was true, sometimes. But he hated the pity. He hated the way they looked at him, like he was one bad day away from breaking apart.

The worst part? They didn’t trust him enough to let him patrol anymore. They thought he couldn’t handle it. They thought he was too broken, too damaged. They pulled him from the field, as if he’d never be whole again. But he was fine. No, better than fine. He was healing, moving forward. But they didn’t see that. They only saw the boy who had cracked under pressure, the one who’d been twisted by the Joker.

Then there was you. His little sibling. The one they’d kept under lock and key, away from his brokenness. They didn’t trust him with you, not even for a second. They thought he might break you too. But Tim didn’t want that. He wanted to show them that he wasn’t some fragile piece of glass. He was better now. Stronger.

When the chance came, he took it. He didn’t wait for anyone to stop him. He made the decision to go see you. Just for a moment. Just to prove that he could.