thegoshdarn | (no subject)

It starts with a stupid mistake in gym class. She's tired, and she's not paying as much attention as she should, and it ends in a softball to the face that gives her a nasty black eye. She's had worse, obviously. It's not a big deal, it's just very visible once the skin blossoms into a bruise. There's a paper trail for it for once, so she doesn't have to worry about hiding it from her dad, which should be a relief but somehow snowballs into fuck-up number two: dinner.

Jack's having one of his I should be a good dad moments, so he insists on eating dinner with her. Which is - it's fine. They order out, and he's drinking wine that apparently pairs very well with sushi or so he informs her, and for thirty minutes he's been chatting about recent archeology news and how well the business is doing and she thinks he's looked at her properly about three times the whole dinner and not once has he given any sign that he's noticed his daughter's left eye is practically swollen shut. And she doesn't know why, but something in her snaps, and the next thing she knows, she's picked up the bottle of wine that pairs so well with sushi and dropped it on the ground so that it smashes open and there's glass and wine splashing over her shoes.

After the yelling, she's locked in her room, her phone and all her electronics taken away. She's grounded, of course, and if she had an ounce of sense, she'd wait it out, but the same impulse that made her provoke her dad has her climbing out the bedroom window. There's no convenient tree branch she can climb down, so it's not a safe exit by any means, but she's Robin and even before she was Robin, she spent years sneaking around Gotham at night taking pictures of the Bats. It's practically nostalgic.

She really ought to be going to Wayne Manor, but somehow she finds herself getting out at a stop near Red Hood's territory and going for a walk. It's not the safest place to be having a near dissociative episode, but Jason is pretty good at making it clear minors are off-limits in his space so she supposes whatever part of her brain is currently in charge could have made a worse decision.

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"It shouldn't matter. I don't have to be an emotionless soldier to not throw a fit at my dad."

God. This is fucked up. Tim folds her arms on the table and plops her head into them.

On instinct, Jason gets up and rubs her back.

"Hey, it's okay. You've been through a lot. You've been forced to keep in a lot too."

She stiffens for a moment, not quite expecting the touch. “It shouldn’t matter,” she repeats. And then: “I don’t know what to do when he realizes I left.”

"He'll probably demand you come back," Jason says grimly. "But right now you stay here. It's too late at night to go anywhere else."

She shrugs. "Well, he took my phone before locking me in my room, so it's not as if he can demand I come back, anyway."

Jason's alarmed by that. How disassociated was she that she ran away without her phone?

"Why did you run away?" He asks sympathetically.

" - I don't know," she admits.

Honestly, it's hard to think of a reason she left, just like how it's hard to think of the specific reason she decided to break the wine bottle. She just did.

Jason can take some guesses to what happened but he's hesitant about laying all of it out tonight. She's still processing.

"It's been a lot for you," he repeats, feeling inadequate with that response. "This had been coming for a long time I think."

Well.

It’s not that she hadn’t expected Jason to put together that this thing was a failing on her part, but it still hurts a bit that he was apparently expecting it. “What?”

Jason slowly takes a deep breath and then exhales, preparing himself.

"Your dad has emotionally neglected you for years," he explains. "Yeah, you've always had a roof over your head and enough money to take care of yourself but physical needs aren't enough to be a good parent.

He's hardly paid attention to you and the times that he does, it's all self-serving and about what others might think of the family instead of actually thinking about what you need or want.

What kind of parent doesn't notice their kid coming home with a black eye? Not even Bruce is that oblivious."

Well, that is... absolutely not what she expected him to say. She's honestly frozen for a moment, not sure what to say. "That's not - that's an exaggeration."

"Which part?" Jason asks, patiently. He's also steeling himself for Tim to argue at every point he's made.

"He doesn't neglect me. And he's not self-serving, he's just... busy. He's not used to being around that much."

"For years, he's been out of the house than not. He thinks sending a single postcard every so often is enough. You've had to set aside your own money for a food budget because sometimes he doesn't even bother with that when he tries to punish you."

Jason knows he might be hurting Tim's feelings laying it out so bluntly so this conversation was long overdue.

This is absolutely not a conversation that Tim wants to be having right now. Her head's too mixed up to be explaining that what he's talking about isn't ideal, obviously, and if it was happening to another kid then she could see being concerned, but it's not that bad. It's not.

"I should go."

"No, it's fine," Jason quickly says. He really doesn't want her wandering out late in this area of Gotham in her current emotional and mental state with no protection or even a phone. "Look, just at least stay for tonight and then tomorrow morning a plan can be formed."

He knows he has to drop the subject now. He's probably given her more than enough to think about in regards to her family.

Well, he has definitely given her things to think about. Just not things she actually wants to think about.

"All right. I'll stay."

But under the condition he doesn't make any more comments about neglect, she doesn't say but feels is probably implied anyway.

Jason nods and slightly relaxes. That's one obstacle down at least. What the next step should be would have to wait when they're both more rested.

"You can have the bed. I can sleep on the couch."

"I wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch," she points out because politeness dictates she at least say it.

"It's fine. The bed would be easier to sleep on for you," Jason says. He would feel weird not offering it to her.

"Is your couch terrible or something?" she asks, more out of idle curiosity and the urge to make this conversation stay in the realm of dumb little things like that than any real need to know.

"It's secondhand, lumpy, and I think there's a spring ready to pop out of there," Jason replies. He recognizes that it's probably a delaying tactic, a legitimate question, or both.

"If only there was a way to get couches that aren't falling apart."

"Well it's not like being a vigilante is a high-paying job for me," Jason says with some amusement and an attempt at levity.