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Dick caught him, and no one was more surprised by that than Tim himself was.
Tim was tired.
This final fight with Ra’s was going to kill him, but honestly? He didn’t care. Let him die.
As he was kicked out of the window by the enraged, pedophilic immortal Zombie, Tim could only smile.
Glass shards twinkled toward his quickly falling body, cowl torn off over one of his eyes and the Gotham night sky glittering on the shards like stars, and he smiled. Yeah, he was going to die, but after everything he had done, and sacrificed, and lost, Ra’s al Ghul had fucking lost the game to Tim.
Tim was falling fast toward the ground, a beatific—borderline insane—smile stretching his lips as Ra’s stared on in fury and anguish, knowing he hadn’t won.
Tim won; had earned this. No friends. No Family. No Team. No Batman. Bruce would be back, the JL got his info, incomplete as it was. They fucking got it. And his mentor would be back, and everything would be as it should be.
And the best part?
Tim could finally. Fucking. Rest.
Most of his money would go to the streets of the City that borne him, his assets would be delivered to the family he had cuckooed and lied to get into, and what was left-all his extra homes, his billions of leftover trinkets and knick-knacks with any value would be delivered to Pru, and he would be just a little footnote at the end of their chapters, maybe, and then everyone and everything would be as it should be.
And he could die happy, knowing Ra’s would have lost.
‘Try to bring back a smear on the fucking pavement, gods-damned bastard,’ He thought smugly as he descended, his hands coming out in front of his face to point straight at the window with two little birds on his fingers for the deranged fucker, his smile behind them.
With one last look at the sky, he relaxed and closed his eyes.
And was fucking pissed when strong arms caught him about his torso and swung him away.
Fuck.
So he lived, which, you know, yay? It was such a fucking Joy.
Dick had asked how Tim knew he was going to catch him. How he knew he was on his way to help. And Tim?
Tim had lied through his fucking teeth. Like the Lying Liar he was. He can fucking lie to The Batman. Dick doesn’t stand a chance. It's not like he's Cass.
“Of course I knew you’d come! You’re my brother; you said you’d always come,” Tim had said with a nonchalant shrug and a lopsided, sickly, adoring smile. He knew he had Dick fooled when the older man had relaxed and held him to his chest, whispering assurances and ‘Of course!’ into his hair like he wasn’t a fucking liar too.
Then the hell-spawn had thrown a tantrum over what Tim assumed was their comms, and Dick had tutted and hummed and hawed at his lil demonic brat, and with a ruffle of Tim’s hair told him “Bruce’s back. See you at Brunch?” before he grappled away into the night to answer the bidding of his true family.
Tim had limped to his temporary Nest, ripped off his suit, and punched a hole in the brand-new drywall for funsies, as he cursed and screamed in the sound-proofed, underground hide-out.
Eleven gruelling months, where he had to deal with the Daughter of Acheron, the Court of Spiders, the League of Assassins, and their gods-damned immortal maniac who was a fucking pervert. He lost his friends, his new team, and killed thousands of people. He had burned his spine and left arm, lost his fucking Spleen, for crying-out-loud, and he didn’t even get a thank-you.
Or a welcome back.
Or a ‘Missed you’.
(Well, he did get one, but it was more Jason being a grumpy little bitch over text, and then B&E with violence upon Tim threatened if he didn’t attend brunch. And that weird side-hug, where Jason had tucked Tim's head under the chin of his helmet and grunted a nearly-silent 'Thank fuck you’re fuckin' back, Replacement' With a lotta looks at Tim that Tim couldn’t—or wouldn’t—decipher)
Tim knows he’s on the edge. He knows he’s got too much hurt, too much rage, right now to think clearly. But he also knows this one other, important thing.
It’s small, really.
Inconsequential, truly.
He knows that he’s done.
And he’s going to make it the perfect getaway where no one will find him, and he won’t even care. It’s not like they do.
Time to implement his contingency plan; Logan.
Now, where’d he put that stupid little gem again?