Batfamily One Shots.

A Little Unsteady

Tim was freaking out. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't ready, he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready.

Or: on Tim's 18th birthday, his parents would allow the Court of Owls to make him a Talon.

He did not want to be a Talon.

...

This was not how I expected this to go. I should really just stop planning things, shouldn't I?
Title from song: Unsteady, by X Ambassadors
.....

Tim was freaking out. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't ready, he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready, hewasn'treadywasn'treadyhewasn'tready. No. No. No. Nonononononononononononononono.

He couldn't do this.

But...

He also couldn't...

Not do this?

When did his life become so damn confusing?

...

His earliest memory was when he was 2 years old, his mother was humming a song beside his bed as she brushed her fingers through his hair. One of the only times he can remember her touch with warmth in his chest, and not the bitter cold he'd come to know. 

The hums slowly faded into words, and Tim could barely make them out as his eyelids fluttered closed. " Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time. Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head. "

His mother stood and began to walk away, pausing at the doorway. "Do not worry, Timothy. The Talon will not come after you. They will follow you into battle as your ally."

...

It was almost his 18th birthday. His mother would be there. The one birthday she'd never forget.

But, to them, it wasn't a birthday.

It was the coming of a new age.

A age of terror, and fear, and worst of all...

Power. 

...

"This is your training period, Timothy." Janet said, as she readjusted his stance. "Pay attention." 

"Yes, mother. I apologize." Tim answered, polite as always, as he did his 123rd push-up. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and his breath was pickup up speed, but still, he pressed on.

He couldn't disappoint his mother and father.

Or the Court.

...

He didn't know what to do. Running wasn't an option.

They'd find out about it and kill him before he even had the chance. 

So, no. Running wasn't an option.

...

The Graysons were falling

falling

falling 

dead.

The boy, Richard -Call me Dick!- was still on the trapeze. He was crying.

"Tt." His mother commented sadly. "The Court will be disappointed." Folding up the newspaper with news of Richard Grayson's adoption into the Wayne family a few months later.