This Is My Future

Chapter 40

Tim's P.O.V

I sat on the couch in Dick's living room, I had snuck out of the bed after he fell asleep. I looked down the hall, catching a glimpse of the wheelchair we brought from the base.

My chest tightened, "I'm sorry, Dick..." I muttered to myself, "This is all my fault."

I stood up and walked to the closet, I pulled out a notebook and a pen, and walked to the kitchen counter. I opened the book and got the pen working, I sighed and started to write, but couldn't get the correct words to flow, everything was way too weak. I kept throwing pages away like a stumped writer.

I bit my lip in frustration.

"What are you doing up?"

I jumped and spun around on my seat to see Arty.

"Nothing...I wasn't tired."

"What are you writing?" She asked. She walked up and looked over my shoulder at the blank page.

"Nothing...just...drawing," I said and started drawing a curved bird head, with the red pen. "I call him, Red Robin."

She scoffed, "Awesome symbol; terrible name."

I smiled, "Yeah, who would name themself after a restraunt?"

"A real dork," she snickered draping her arm around my shoulders.

"You know," she said sitting down next to me. "It might be better to tell Dick, face-to-face that you want to leave."

I snapped my head towards her, "How did you..."

"I can see the indent you left on the paper," she said. She reached over the counter and grabbed a pencil from the junk drawer. She pulled the notebook to her and shaded the page showing the words I had written. "You gotta stop pressing down so hard."

I sighed and nodded faintly, "I can't talk to Dick...he'll kill me for thinking this was my fault."

"Because it wasn't Timmy," she said gently, stroking her knuckles over my cheek. "It was that asshole who blew up the crate."

"But if I never left the base..." I looked down at the counter feeling pressure building behind my eyes.

"It's not your fault Tim," she sighed. "Don't blame yourself."

"But..."

"No," she said firmly yet gently. "It was not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

I sighed laying my head on the counter. She patted my back, "It's okay Timmy."

"I can't stay..." I said, "Just because Dick doesn't seem mad at me doesn't mean he isn't."

She sighed, "I think it'd be better if you stayed...but it's your choice."

"I'm sorry..." I sighed, "But I don't think I should stay..."

She nodded, "It's okay." She stood up and kissed my head, "Be careful on your way home, Baby Bird."

I nodded, "I'll try..."

She sighed quietly and went to the stairs.

"Are you mad...?" I asked.

She shook her head, climbing the stairs, "No."

I nodded faintly and looked back at the book. I wrote another note and called it good, though I hated it.

I slid off the stool and with blurry vision I stumbled to Dick's room. I grabbed my backpack and started packing my stuff, making sure that I don't wake my brother.

I sighed a shaky breath and walked to the bed. I bent down and hugged Dick, feeling tears prick my eyelids. Surprisingly he didn't wake up. I pushed the wheelchair next to the bed and grabbed my bag, I left the room closing the door carefully.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed the wireless phone off the counter. I punched in Bruce's cellphone number, forcing myself to calm down.

The ringing stopped on the third chime. "What Dick?" Bruce asked. I could hear city noise in the background, so he was either on patrol or just finishing at the Wayne Foundation.

"Tim, actually."

"Tim?" Bruce asked. "It's two in the morning. Why are you up?"

"Can you come pick me up...?" I asked, ignoring his question.

There was a silence before he asked, "Why?"

"Dick's too busy to hang out...and I'd rather be home..." I fibbed.

"Can it wait till morning?"

"No..."

"Why?"

"I don't know..." I muttered, "Please?"

"I'll be there in an hour," he sighed.

"I'll wait in the lobby," I said.

"You can stay in the apartment."

"That wouldn't be the best idea, Bruce," I sighed. "And you know that."

"Alright...I'm on my way."

"Okay. Bye," I hung up. I glanced around for anything I could've forgotten and left the apartment, locking the door.

I went to the elevator and rode down to the lobby.

After a little over an hour, Bruce's car pulled up. I stood up and hurried out to the car. I threw my bag in the back seat and climbed into the passenger seat, buckling up.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked.

I nodded, "I just want to get home..."

"What happened to your face?"

"Enemy," I said bluntly,

He nodded and drove down the street heading for back roads out of the city.