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After coming back from the dead, Bruce knows that things are going to be different, little things. That’s why he decides to do the training he usually does every month.
Today, he will start with Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian; the girls and the Birds of Prey have decided to watch Gotham in their stead.
He watches Dick roll flawlessly through a different routine, hitting his targets harder.
Bruce hums to himself, wondering if Dick’s tenure as the Batman has left its mark on his methods and means.
He turns to watch the new routine Damian has. It’s not one he has seen before; it makes his son’s moves…softer.
He smiles to himself, noticing what Dick did there.
He’s about to turn to observe Tim when a movement to his left catches his attention.
Jason.
When they make eye contact, Jason only turns away to continue his training.
Bruce stares a little longer. He doesn’t really know what changed, back when Bruce was still the only Batman. Jason and him hadn’t been on good terms. His son would flinch or his eyes would flash green when he caught sight of even his cape.
He feels hope blooming in his chest.
Maybe, he can keep coming, maybe he will start staying.
He will be home.
He doesn’t know how long it takes him to finally turn to look at Tim.
He doesn’t move for a few seconds.
Tim.
Those moves.
He doesn’t recognize them. Not at first.
He is not the Robin he left behind.
He’s someone entirely new.
And as he sees the cold efficiency that Red Robin carries, he notices that he has seen it before.
It’s the same kind Damian sometimes uses.
It’s the one that some of the higher ranks of the League of Assassins aspire to have.
It’s the Al Ghuls’.
After watching their routines, he decides to go with a training that he used to give them every three weeks.
Truth Serum.
Everyone under his crusade knows how to fight most drugs, including truth serum.
They are trained to never give up under it.
To never reveal anything, and as he asks them for their identities, none of them say anything. Dick deflects with some puns, while Damian and Jason complain about how bad Dick’s jokes are. Tim stays silent.
Bruce has also trained them to be selfish sometimes.
If he were to go down, they must retreat; there shouldn’t be any compromises.
That’s why when he asks, “Would you die for me?”, he expects them to say no.
But between the chorus of “No”’s there’s a small whisper.
“Again?”
He stills and turns to Tim, who stands alone at the center of the four.
The boy looks surprised, his eyes wide as if he’s caught in an illicit act.
“Red Robin. Explain” Bruce commands him as he also looks carefully at Tim, categorizing every single detail, every miniscule difference.
He stops at his eyes.
The boy has stayed quiet the entire time.
“Why are you wearing contacts?” His voice is the only one resonating around the cave. He can hear the agitated fluttering of the bats.
Tim takes a breath. He holds Bruce’s stare and takes out a small container from his belt. Carefully, he removes the contacts, pausing for a second to stare at them in his palm; then sighs and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that the pit would counteract the drugs. I’ll have to start a new regimen; it won’t happen again.”
Bruce doesn’t listen to any sound that comes out of Tim’s mouth. He could read his lips, clear as day, if he needed to.
Instead he stares at Tim’s eyes.
The ones that used to be grey blue most of the time, sometimes flickering to baby blue in the fluorescentgleam of the Batcomputer.
Now they aren’t anymore.
They are jade green.