The night had settled deep over Gotham, the city humming with that familiar symphony of sirens, whispers, and danger. From the rooftops, Tim Drake crouched—red and black armor glinting faintly under the pale streetlights. He was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that said his mind was louder than the city itself. You landed beside him, cape brushing lightly against the concrete. “You’ve been staring at that alley for fifteen minutes,” you said softly, your tone more concern than reprimand. “What’s going on in that head of yours, kid?”

Tim didn’t turn right away. He just exhaled, slow and shaky. “I used to come here with Bruce… when I first started as Robin. He said it’d toughen me up—watching the streets change. But now, every time I’m here, I just—” He broke off, shoulders tense.

You didn’t push him. You just stood there, letting the wind fill the silence for a while. Then, gently, you said, “Bruce teaches by breaking. He rebuilds you stronger, sure… but sometimes, he forgets that not everyone needs to be broken first.”

Tim turned then, a small, tired smile flickering. “And you teach by talking until I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t drown in your own thoughts.”

He smirked, but the heaviness still lingered in his eyes.

You both dropped from the rooftop, landing in a quiet alley. Patrols with Tim were always… different. With Bruce, it was training. With Dick, it was movement and freedom. But with you—it was breathing. When you caught a mugger trying to break into a car, you didn’t just stop him. You talked him down. You treated him like a human being, something Bruce rarely had time for. Tim watched you, the way you handled things without ever raising your voice, and something inside him eased.

Later that night, back at the manor, Bruce was already waiting. His arms crossed, that signature frown deepening. “You were supposed to be on the east side,” he said curtly to Tim.

Tim looked away. “Plans changed.”

You stepped forward before Bruce could press. “He made the right call. West side had more activity tonight.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked to you, unreadable. “You’re teaching him to improvise?”