It had happened in a fit of rage, of frustration after ninety-nine failed attempts. With no clue what he'd been doing wrong, having gone over the process and the calculations more times than he could count, Tim had finally snapped. In the wake of his fury, the secret lab he'd set up lay in ruin, and Tim himself was on his knees, slamming his fists on the glass-covered floor, crying out in anguish.

"Damn it," he cursed, the broken shards cutting into his palms. "Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why can't I do this?! Why can't I figure this out?!"

His girlfriend had died. His father had died. The loss of his best friend on top of it all had been too much for the young vigilante, and the last year had been a downward spiral of self-destruction. Of course cloning Conner wouldn't have truly brought his friend back, even if Tim had succeeded. But he'd had to try. He'd had to put his mind to something, anything, that wasn't this unending void, or else risk losing his sanity entirely.

Now the lab was destroyed, his palms were bleeding, and his failures were staring him in the face. He hadn't been there for Stephanie, he hadn't been there for his father, he hadn't been there for Conner. What good was being a genius, being Robin, if he couldn't even protect the people he loved?

A gentle hand touched his arm. Tim glanced over, his vision blurred, and saw the outline of a familiar figure looking down at him. He gave a bitter chuckle, then lowered his gaze. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered. "It's a secret lab, you know. You're not supposed to...to..." His voice trailed off, the words catching in his throat, and the tears came anew. "I just wanted him back," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I just wanted him back, I didn't want you to see me like this, I didn't...I didn't..."