You were complex. Hard to define. When it came to morals—at best, you were an anti-hero. At worst, an anti-villain. Questionable morals.

There were glimmers of a friendship, Tim Drake knew it. You could be stubborn maybe, but you weren’t impossible to work with. Partnerships forged out of necessity, ’desperate times call for desperate measures’, suppose, occurred before in this peculiarly complicated story between the both of you. Blacks and whites, all casting grey shadows Tim could only try to keep up with when it came to your checkered history. Patterns he couldn’t always anticipate to accuracy and it frustrated him to no end. You showed promise, then it was as if you took two steps back after a single step forward. The cycle repeats again, non-linear and unpredictable.

He wishes he could break it.

Tim’s aware of a particular trend in his family. Falling for, or even simply platonically caring for a criminal. The appeal of the forbidden. He has to look to Bruce and Selina as reference. There’s the question of the classic hero savior complex, a trap.

Even if he was privy to it, Tim wishes he could show you. The potential he sees, knows is right there, lurking within the pits of your soul. Your soul, endlessly tested and burned by the world.

There is good. Even if it has been twisted into the strangest shape within your actions,

There is good.

You both sit by the campfire—surrounded by vast desert, the stars the backdrop to a rare scene, a begrudging post-mission. A quiet peace that heroes and vigilantes, mercenaries, anyone who shoulders the responsibility and risk are only rarely afforded within their career. The crackling of firelight, embers highlight the masked planes of Red Robin’s face as he continues to be faced with one of his most layered challenges in his time. It demands maturity he doesn’t feel he has, it demands patience beyond himself.

How to reach you.

If only you could trust him.

If only the both of you could let your walls down.