#anyway if you look closely at the teacup she uses at Doom Manor it says “Queen” at the bottom

[laura-de-milf]

Let Laura Be Happy 2k23 😔

[spicysoftsweet]

Why Not Her? (Illumi x Reader)

A/N: Buckle up, this is long as fuck and dramatic as HELL. Please read @hisokapegger‘s fic for the first part, and consider this the other perspective. If one of us is feeling up to it, we’re gonna write some more perspectives.

To the tune of Jolene by Dolly Parton here ~

Part one by @hisokapegger here

TW: pregnancy

---

To love is to trust.

You had done the unthinkable by choosing to love and to trust what to others was despicable. You had made the leap and been rewarded for it with the love of Illumi Zoldyck. 

Your relationship would be strong and lasting; you were sure of it. Prior to coming to the sprawling mansion he had grown up in, he had already paved a way for you after all. With enough convincing (or rather, over a year of quiet arguments and louder fights that you thankfully weren’t privy to), his parents had begrudgingly accepted the idea of you. 

And today was the day you would finally be presented as his fiancee.

He had chosen you yourself. There was nothing to fear, as long as he was with you. You reminded yourself of this as you held his hand while he led you into the manor.

You kept your smile on as you navigated through, following just a few steps behind but still linked. What you needed to do was look charming, even if you were afraid - first impressions were paramount to people as elitist as Illumi’s family. You had to channel grace, even if the butterflies in your stomach would barely settle the further you went.

And you did so well, exuding charm and inner peace to everyone you met - that is, until you met eyes with her. 

Illumi introduced the beautiful, sylphlike creature as one of his most trusted butlers. She smiled at the praise, and the moment you took in the soft features painted on pale skin with a hint of olive, something inside of you trembled for just a moment. 

“This is Kali. She’s been with me ever since I was a child,” he explained, with fondness. 

You nodded, trying to ease the thump in your heart, keeping your smile genuine. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kali.”

You were being truthful. You sensed intrinsically she was sweet and kind, and you knew you would end up liking her the longer you spent time together. She would be your personal butler from then on, anyway. You decided to ignore the nagging sense of impending doom that knocked at your subconscious, shoving it into the deepest recesses of your mind.

As Illumi took you away to move on, you turned back to sneak a look at Kali once more.

And then you saw it; you wished you hadn’t seen it: her eyes shining with sadness for just for a split second before she noticed you and looked away.

----

As you had anticipated, you and Kali became fast friends. You knew Illumi loved you and that his feelings hadn’t changed by the way he spoke excitedly about your upcoming future together, took the time to fill up your quarters with the things you liked, and indulged you in soft kisses and touches when you were alone together.

But the thought that you were assuming a space that didn’t belong to you, and not in a way as innocuous as sitting in someone else’s seat, continued to linger in the back of your mind.

It festered every time Illumi came by to see you while you were exchanging stories with Kali when you failed to see a difference in the way he looked at you both. It reared its ugly head whenever she teased him in your presence, or whenever she gave you a tidbit about his favorite things. There was a twinkle to her eye whenever she spoke about him, and while you loved her, you started to hate it.

But jealousy was such an unbecoming emotion, wasn’t it?

Illumi loved you, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

---

“I want Kali to make one of the wedding cakes.” Illumi stated, voice as light and inconsequential as usual, as you sat side by side in one of the many gazebos on the field. 

“Oh?” You asked, looking up from the catalog of flower arrangements you were perusing, despite the fact that you knew his mother would override any decisions you made anyway (you had decided you would let her win the battle over flowers so that you could win the war, after all).

“There’s a recipe only she knows,” he continued. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. She’s aware and has agreed.”

“That sounds lovely, Illumi.”

It truly did, and that was the worst part.

---

Your wedding came and went, and it was every bit as beautiful as you imagined. You remained in Illumi’s arms after consummating your union, and somehow, shockingly, he fell asleep first. Or maybe he was just closing his eyes - yes, that was the more rational explanation. You snuggled closer into his neck, and wrapped your arms even tighter around him.

Still flushed, you whispered a breathy, “I love you.”

And to your terror, the little green monster that had spared you for the past few days came back in full force. 

But so does Kali! It screamed from the parts you thought you had locked away, and your heart started to race.

Illumi didn’t open his eyes, but he pressed his lips to your forehead in a small, quiet motion before pressing you even closer to him, likely sensing your unrest. 

What you needed to hear him say was those three words back.

But alas, those three words never came, and the little green monster grew just a little bit stronger that night.

---

You could have your choice of men, but I can never love again

He’s the only one for me, [Kali]

---

It didn’t take very long for you to become heavy with child, and for whatever reason, pregnancy was particularly hard on you. The fatigue, back pain and constant nausea would have been manageable if it weren’t the fact that your ankles swelling was nothing compared to the swelling in your face, and you were unsure if the stretch marks that coursed over your belly would ever fade. Just looking at yourself in the mirror some days would ruin your morning.

Kali remained lithe and beautiful as always, graciously by your side to help you with the most menial tasks. Taking your hand to help you get to the bathroom or to take a daily walk around the manor to prevent blood clots from sitting around, keeping you company while Illumi was away; you were in need of constant assistance, and she was always there for you.

She was an angel, and your best friend.

One evening as you ate dinner, just the two of you, you let out a sigh.

Kali smiled in response, attempting to reassure you. “Pregnancy seems difficult, but you wear it well,” she mused, pouring chamomile tea for the two of you to enjoy.

You gave out a dramatic snort as you took a sip. “I’ll never look the same again, and I’m pretty sure this whole story about a “pregnancy glow” is fake,” you huffed as you set the teacup down.

“But Illumi’s so happy, he talks about it all the time!” Kali exclaimed cheerfully, setting down her own cup. “Just yesterday, he was talking about baby names you had discussed, and settling on a few. It was quite funny to watch actually.”

A knot formed in your stomach. The last time you spoken to or seen Illumi was multiple days ago... 

“Was he home yesterday?” You blurted out, then were embarrassed to even have to ask your friend about your own husband’s whereabouts. 

She furrowed her brow as she looked at you in confusion. “Yeah, of course, he was just here for a couple of hours, but...”

He didn’t come see you? What she left unsaid was enough to set you on edge, but you couldn’t be mad at her, only at yourself. 

Who could love you anyway, the way you were now?

It took you a moment to get up on your own, but you had to stand and make your way from the table. Turning away from her so that she couldn’t see the bitter tears that were ready to fall from your face.

“__, are you alright?”

“Mmhmm,” You choked out and nodded, your voice regrettably higher than usual. You bit your lip.

“I think I’m going to bed early tonight.”

You could hear the chair shift back as she rose.

“Okay,” she said, in a soft, compassionate voice. You heard her light footsteps make their way to the door, pause for a moment, and finally the door closed shut behind you.

And at the sound of the closed door, as if on cue, your tears began to fall. 

---

Your smile is like a breath of spring

Your voice is soft like summer rain

And I cannot compete with you

[Kali]

---

You spent the rest of your pregnancy on bedrest, before producing a beautiful, dark-haired little girl. Skin to skin contact was brief before Illumi took the baby in his arms, inspected it, and with the smallest smile of pleasure, handed it to Kali.

You watched as Kali cooed at your new child, standing next to your still pleased-appearing husband, the picture of a perfect family. Even their features complemented each other; it was like a knife twisting in your chest. 

Kikyo gave you a quick look over before running over to them to pick up her new grandchild. For a split second, you wondered if you had imagined a look between pity and understanding, hidden beneath her visor. 

The nightmare of being overlooked.

---

And I can easily understand

How you could easily take my man

But you don't know what he means to me

[Kali]

---

It took you not too long after that to grow bitter. Maybe it was postpartum depression, maybe it was a year of feeling inadequate, maybe it was the fact that you knew your friend was more deserving than you. 

But either way, you withdrew. From Illumi, from Kali, from everyone. It wasn’t hard to do so. You did what you were there for. You’d produced a child to appease your husband and your grandparents. 

How you yearned for freedom...

The freedom that Kali had to love without the responsibility. If only you could switch places.

“___, please eat-”

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, before she could even finish. Kali pulled the plate of food back to her.

“Illumi is upset with me that you’re not eating.”

“Are you worried about Illumi or me?” You quipped, then covered your own mouth, shocked at what had come out.

“...”

Kali was speechless, but the look on her face betrayed a layer of guilt that you couldn’t tolerate. You were right. It was less about you than about Illumi.

You knew she cared about you too, and yet…

“I know you love him,” you choked out. Kali said nothing, her beautiful eyes still on you, as you began to cry. 

“I know you wish he had chosen you instead of me, and honestly, I wish he had.”

----

I had to have this talk with you

My happiness depends on you

And whatever you decide to do

[Kali]

---

The next morning, you decided you would seek some professional help. You didn’t know how much of this was depression vs. postpartum baby blues, but something had to be done. Kali did not deserve your anger at all.

You didn’t see Kali that morning. 

When you finally spoke up your concern of your whereabouts to Illumi, hoping not to avoid any trouble, his face was impassive as usual. 

“She asked if she could leave.”

The butlers didn’t just have the option to leave… Or did they?

“I didn’t know they could quit,” you questioned, suspiciously. 

“They usually can’t. But in this case, there was an exception.” He said. With that, he turned fully to face you, and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. It had been a long time since you’d kissed, since you’d withdrawn from him in your depression, and you missed it. But it felt wrong.

You withdrew again from his touch.

“What did she say? What was the exception?” You demanded to know.

“She told me she loved me, and that you knew the entire time,” he said, simply. Your stomach did a backflip.

“Normally the punishment is immediate death, but I know how much you care about her. And she was good to you.” He continued, taking your hands in his. You pulled away slowly, staring straight through him. He didn’t insist on it.

“Where is she now?”

“Off the manor, most likely.”

You started to walk towards the gate, and he held on to your arm.

“Where are you going?”

A panic started to rise in you.

“Bring her back! I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong!” Tears started to stream down your cheeks again, as the realization set in that such a petty feeling such as jealousy had managed to turn you into a villain. 

“She wanted to leave.”

“She loves you!” You protested.

“So?”

So? It was such an aggressively simple sentence. You looked up at him in shock, enough that it gave you pause.

“What do you mean so? Why me? Why not her when she’s perfect?”

“She’s not you.”

Your hand almost flew to his face from the sheer level of rage, the urge to defend her feelings coursing through you, but your palm stopped right at the side of his face. Instead, you sank to the floor, and sobbed for Kali, and for yourself. 

---

[Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali~]

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

[cleverbxrd]

... In Love and War

WHO: Tim Drake / @cleverbxrd , Ra’s al Ghul / @thedcmonshead MENTIONED: Steph Brown, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, The Bat-Family, Jack Drake WORD COUNT: 4,247 LOCATION: Your typical abandoned warehouse in Gotham, used for all kinds of nefarious purposes. THE BASICS: Tim heads to face what he thinks might be his doom after a mysterious new member of the Young Justice messaging chat prompts him to follow. Tim knows exactly who, and what, this is about. Ra’s is there to finally get what he’s wanted for years.  TW: Tim being Tim, Ra’s being Ra’s, If either of those don’t give enough of an “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here” Vibe: Emotional Turmoil, Emotional Manipulation, Predatory Behavior, Mentions of Physical Violence, Mentions of Past Deaths, Trauma (lots of it)

TIM: Fear. Anger. Hate.

Emotions came from his chest, his guts, burned with a fire he hadn’t felt in what felt like years. So this was what it was like to feel again? To remember the fight still inside, the passion to push himself forward. To love someone he’d known and admired for years. To loathe the face that yet again threatened to take the one thing that made him happy in this god-forsaken world away.

He’d stared at the messages for what felt like hours, icy blue eyes transfixed on the ‘unknown’ entity that had hacked into his private server (no doubt with help, cheater), and threatened just the wrong people.

Tim. Had. Had it. 

The emotions swirled and erupted from his throat in a vicious, feral screech, wanting to do nothing but destroy every inch of the now suddenly cramped but all too empty room he stood in. Tears stung his eyes, squeezed tight against the force of his scream, biting back against the sobs that followed it. He should have known, he should have kept her closer, should have sent her with something to protect herself with. Was it a mistake to open up to her? To feel again? He’d been careless, reckless, failure, IMBECILE, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN- 

 Heaving breaths rocked his lungs like he was trying to breathe in a vacuum, clawed fingers gripping dangerously at his hair, feeling like he could scalp himself from the force. Tim felt himself shaking, but worse than before, worse than the other times he’d felt the same paranoia hit him with the force of a freighter train. Steph… Stephanie...

He had time. He could save her.

With no moment to lose, and a solid look of hate plastered onto his brow, the bird swiftly got to work erasing his presence, jamming tracers and blocking signals that could alert anyone with enough smarts to try finding him.

He’d done what he needed to do, preparing for the impossible, no, the inevitable, and with no time at all he was tugging the belts across his chest again, the cape feeling weightless as the cowl fell over his face. Trusted staff at his back, closed and ready for combat activation, Tim made his way to the cave he was sure he wouldn’t see again for a long time. He didn’t even think to take in the surroundings, check security to make sure no one knew where he was going, his eyes were zeroed in on the familiar bike, his bike, no one else got this Redbird. He was a man on a mission, and he wasn’t going to be stopped.

The mission… Swinging one leg over, firing the engine on, he briefly thought of his family, what little there was, his friends. Guilt flicked through his harsh glare, something anyone paying attention to could barely see under the near molded scowl of the mask. Not even a note, nothing of the sort. He should say something, should tell someone what he was really getting himself into…. A remorseful look shot up at the one entrance up to the manor, where he was sure the Butler and the Gremlin were safe, sound, no second thoughts in their head. Lot of good that did. Just pissed him off more. 

No more running. This is the end of the line. It was time to fucking finish this.

What he wouldn’t give to have super-speed, breaking road laws nearly gave the same effect. He tried to concentrate on something other than the white that dared to roll over his eyes; the wind, the engine, the smell of the disgusting city air that would choke anyone who didn’t grow up in it. Something to keep his cool, or as much cool as he could, but it was all futile. Gloved knuckles threatened to rip apart at the very tips, the skin under them turning white under the bruises and scrapes they’ve endured. His hands itched to tear shit apart, they wanted a fight, and he knew exactly who he was targeting first.

If Ra’s was smart (as much as Tim hated to think about it, he really was. That was the scary part.), he’d have guards. At least a couple, just to wear him out, watch like the creepazoid he was, just until he could make that same damn offer again. His loose plan was to never let him get to step three. Take out the mad-man, save the girl, pretend the trauma of the past didn’t prove exactly what you’d told your girlfriend before you got together. Easy as pie.

It was never that easy. Don’t kid yourself, Red.

Skidding to a stop, the bike nearly collided into the side of the building he’d hoped was where the bastard assassin had alluded to. The dark bird stalked the entryway, a twitch in his brows signaling he’d been glaring for too long.

Too damn long, asshole.

One hand slid behind the cape, palming the one friend he’d had forever in combat, the trusted weapon in his crusade against the evils of the world, and he steadied himself, grounded himself with it. If he was going to take him down, he needed to remain balanced, focused, something he thought he could have when he pushed everyone away. Had he done more harm than good?

Never mind checking for locks, the vigilante slammed a hard kick against the door, literally busting his way in as his wrist flicked the staff to full extension, silver shining in the dim city lights behind him, white lenses shining with the harsh hate burning a hole in his stomach.

“Ra’s al fuckin’ Ghoul!” Tim announced, the yell ringing with the echo of his grand entrance. “Let her go. Or I swear I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

RA'S: Timothy always did have a flare for the dramatic. One of the many reasons, Ra's rather thought, that they had such fun together.

He'd half-expected the boy to come swooping into the warehouse in a rain of glass from above, a la Bruce, but busting in the door had rather a similar effect. And was, in all truth, probably rather more cathartic. The boy clearly needed it, at any rate: the boy's carefully cultivated upper-crust speech patterns were slipping into the improper diction of a real Gotham accent.

Ra's clicked his tongue.

The assassin was seated comfortably in an upholstered chair in the middle of the warehouse, a cup of tea in one hand resting on the arm of the chair. None of his League were immediately visible, though there was no doubt they must be there. It was rare that one of his men wasn't acting as a shadow, at the very least. Presently, there were no less than ten, scattered around in the deep shadows cast by what little light came in through the grimy windows.

"Tt. Detective, that's no way to talk to one's elders. And breaking in a door? All you needed to do was turn the handle--you're a welcomed guest, after all." Ra's sipped his tea, and kept his other hand out of sight. "Come. Have something to drink. I'm sure you could use the tea--you look a bit stressed."

TIM: As soon as the cool air hit his face, he knew things were wrong. He'd miscalculated, but somehow knew he was going to miscalculate. How? No clue, but it was always a surprise with this guy. That's what was really scary; the Unpredictability. Ra's was smart, too smart, smart enough to foil Tim's most complex plans. Half the time, Tim thought he got away with stuff just because it was amusing to the asshole, just letting his birdcage go unlocked to see how wild he could really get. It was only when he had the control he obviously needed, that's when he won. Tim needed the table to turn, and badly.

So what was so wrong with this picture?

He was calm, there was no Steph in sight. Infrared sight in the cowl told him more people were in the building, but none of them matched her form, nothing he could see at least. Bared teeth ground so hard they dared to crack in his jaw, deepening creases on the cowl's beak signifying his emotional turmoil as he stood his ground. He was too damn calm. And all Tim wanted to do was throw a punch.

"You think I give a fuck?!" His voice echoed, but not so much that he didn't confirm the assassin had the help hiding around. Think, if you make one wrong move you'll have to beat back twenty goons instead of the one. If he could only just think through the fire in his core. Pure, unadulterated hate, pushed on by paranoia. Good job taking the time to figure that shit out, Timmy. FUCKING FOCUS.

If he was still wearing the green pants, he might have quipped back something like I was more of a coffee guy anyways and spring into action, with a bright smile and nothing left to really lose. Back when he was younger, innocent, the only hardships he'd faced had been miniscule, moving past his personal tragedies with ease. He was here to make sure that didn't happen again. "I'm not here for sharing pleasantries." The staff whipped around, smacking into both hands. En garde. "Where is she?"

RA'S: Stubborn as ever. And Tim made it so very easy for Ra's to wriggle under his skin. He was ever-responsive to their little games, sharp enough to almost keep up, even throw out a surprise every once in a while.

For all the good it did him.

Ra's chuckled, raising a brow as he watched the boy snap his bo staff into full extension. "I may be wrong," he said slowly, smiling over his cup of tea, "but I believe you're here to do whatever it takes to get your sweetheart home safe." In a millisecond, his voice turned hard. "Put it down and come sit, Detective. You wouldn't deny an old man small pleasures, would you?"

He set the teacup neatly back in its saucer, and folded one leg elegantly over the other, drawing his other hand out of his pocket. A small box--no. A remote. A detonator.

"And do take the mask off, little songbird. It's impolite."

TIM: Shit.

Of course.

Every muscle in his body snapped to attention, an icy cold settling in as he felt his stomach drop to the floor. Something in that motion told him that Steph was still alive, which would make sense. He had little to relax about, but if Ra's was daring to blow something to kingdom come, he could guess that something was her. She was alive, and soon she'd be safe. That's the mission.

Gloved hands trembled, gripping the staff harder while he pondered his options. There really was only one. What did Bruce teach them? What did the absolute lunatic in front of him parrot? Whatever it takes. He probably hadn't met most of his rogues gallery when he came up with that lesson. Tim tried not to focus on the specifics, tried to not get in too deep. At this point, it was all improv, and this was the shit he was the worst at. With one hard exhale through his nose, he signaled his choice: Submission.

Ew. Gross. Bad word.

His stance relaxed, though he stayed as wound as a spring, the staff disappearing back in it's holster and his face finally freed, taking time to make sure he didn't nearly tear the cowl off his head. Messy hair fell out and around his face, no longer as harsh of a snarl but still angered, tense, just barely stained from his earlier tears. It was pathetic, he thought, that anyone could see him like this. That was just the plan, though, wasn't it? This is exactly why he'd taken her, tortured her, made sure he and his friends knew exactly what was going on.

Tim took brave steps forward, his hard, icy glare locked on to his enemy, standing with covered fist clenched to his side. Two outta three commands ain't bad. Who said you can't still rebel when the odds are so stacked against you you might as well fold? "I didn't know you still could feel happiness. Must be rare, not sure I've ever seen you genuinely smile."

RA'S: He could see the gears turning in his little bird's head at the sight of the detonator, the swift reevaluation of data the boy was so very good at. Calculating odds--odds that Stephanie was alive, odds that the detonator had to do with her, odds that Ra's would be willing to kill her if it was.

Odds that surrender would save her life.

As ever, Tim didn't disappoint. The bo staff was returned to its sheath, the mask came off, and the boy stepped over to linger against the side of the chair. Not sitting, simply staring Ra's down as that tongue of his lashed out while his hands could not.

The ancient assassin chuckled indulgently. "Of course I can. Typically you see me fighting, Timothy. You'll have ample opportunity to see me outside that context, now."

Another sip of tea, and he could feel the tension all but rolling off the boy. "I would have thought your father taught you to follow directions better than this. I said drop the staff, not put it back, and I said to sit." The teacup and saucer were shifted to the little table next to him, before Ra's held out an expectant hand. "I'll take the staff. And the mask."

TIM: Tim really hated every word that came out of the other's mouth. Like, Jesus H. Christ, something about the way he spoke made him want to just grumble, snap back even harder than he had. Call it a reflex, call it a learned behavior. He wasn't sure if it was pavlovian, there wasn't much of a reward in the end. Hell, one time he did just that he got kicked out a window and left to free fall. The only satisfaction that came from that was the knowledge that he'd done something to really piss the old man off to try and actually kill him. Fun times.

"My father wasn't the greatest guy." Neither was his dad. Why he stayed at the Manor still, Tim had no idea. It took all of his planning skills just to make sure he ditched the Butler when he went to school, let alone the Bat. "You know, should've known that from my demeanor." Reject, resent, repeat. It was a fun pattern that gave you scraped knees... or broken bones.

If he could tense up any more than he already was, he almost broke in half when Ra's asked for his gear. The few things keeping him from trembling too much, the only constants in this freaky-ass scenario. Whatever it takes.

Fuck... All of this.

"Don't be an idiot, Ra's." Tim growled, though it was quiet enough, his gaze breaking as he pulled the full cape and belt mess from his chest, the whole half of his uniform coming off into his hands in a few swift motions. "It all comes as a package deal. Chew on five pounds of kevlar." It was a last ditch effort, to try and stay calm, keep it quick and quippy. Not helping. The minute he tossed the mass over to Ra's he felt vulnerable. That's what you wanted. Fine. Take it. I can take it. If it's saving her, I can take it. With another rage-heated breath, Tim finally sat, already exhausted from the mental warfare. He never got this exhausted flinging code. Why couldn't he just hack his way out of this?

RA'S: Oh yes, he knew it was a package. It made it all the more gratifying when Tim stripped it off and tossed it in his lap before half-curling up in the chair opposite. Feeling vulnerable, evidently.

Ra's let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. The boy didn't know the half of it.

Ra's slid free the bo staff before holding the belt out, clearing his throat. One of the assassins skulked out of the shadows to take it, and then disappeared once more.

Ra's tapped the closed staff against his thigh. Once. Twice.  Thrice.

"Mm. No. You didn't want to take the chair when it was offered." He managed to keep a straight face as he nodded towards the ground at his feet. "Here."

Before Tim could open his mouth to respond, Ra's circled his thumb around the button on the remote. "Ah. None of that. I've had quite enough from Ms. Brown, today."

TIM: The Help was here. He was here. He was here. Could this day get any worse?

An ironic twist of fate it would be to ask that out loud.

Though, it gave him a bit of satisfaction to know that Steph had done her verbal damage. What he wouldn't give to know what kind of shit she spat at Ra's. She always was coming up with the good one-liners, he had to practice his in the mirror. Remembering that, remembering her, made his heart feel warm and heavy at the same time, tears starting to shine in his glaring eyes. Teeth clenched, holding back the waterworks for now. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not yet. Not until he knew she was safe, and she'd be free.

With reluctance, Tim got up and... Ugh, sat on the floor, at his next appointed target. His head hung low, the clear shame and fear finally slipping into his physical form, the barest shiver taking over his hands. He attempted to stop them, crossing them tight over his chest There was supposed to be a symbol there... oh right and trying to find his breath yet again. A dog, a pet, a bird in a cage. Steph would kill him for this, he was sure of it. Anyone in the family would, and for good reason.

He was right. He was doing the impossible.

RA'S: The boy could be so very well behaved, when properly motivated. Clearly his girlfriend beimg potentially blasted to kingdom come was more than adequate, because the boy hesitated only a moment before pushing himself out of the chair and sitting at his feet instead, head bowed low in shame. Hands shaking with fear, eyes shining with tears.

Ra's left the staff in his lap, reaching out to touch the boy at last, hand brushing at his hair like a dog to be rewarded. "Good." Already baring the back of his neck, like a good little prey animal.

"You know what my price is to let her go, little songbird. Can I assume by your being here that you're willing go pay it?"

TIM: It took all of his energy to not flinch at the fingers in his hair, the pure mess that came from wearing the cowl. This wasn't right, it was just like every other 'surprise' encounter, where he wanted to run in fear but stayed put like an idiot. Only... This wasn't a surprise. This was him, and he was finally giving the old bastard what he wanted. Direct, from the source. Oh god.

"Y-... Yes." Choking out the word felt like swallowing barbed wire, broken sobs that didn't dare escape his lungs frying his vocal chords. This was hard, but not hard enough. He'd made up his mind, she would be free, alive, even if it took his own. "Anything.... As long... As you accept my own terms in return."

Without much warning, his head snapped up again, a surge of fire lighting his eyes in a newfound wave of confidence. "If you're a bargaining man, take them: Steph goes free, you and your League leaves her, my family, and my friends the fuck alone, and I get one last message to send to J- Bruce.... Something to throw him off, no traceable IP, no post-data threads." A shaky breath let his shoulders drop again, eyes closing tight. Whatever. It. Takes. "Then... Then I'm yours." Never in a million years...

RA'S: Anything was such a powerful word, but not as powerful as yours. Ra's let out a pleased hum, considering the boy's requests--because that's what they were, of course. Tim had nothing to bargain with but his own compliance, now, and his current position was plenty enough to indicate how that would turn out.

"The girl will go free, and your family and friends will be left alone so long as you play your part," he agreed after a moment's thought, continuing to card his fingers through the boy's hair. "No message. Surely you don't believe me stupid enough to do that--with your computer skills and your family's knowledge of codes? No, no."

The boy would have to yield to whatever terms he laid out--he didn't have to cede anything at all, aside from Stephanie's survival, but a gesture of good faith couldn't go amiss. "Do we have an understanding?"

TIM: Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit.

He should've known that last request was a stretch. Something told him that if he'd been nicer gross that maybe he'd been more accepting of it. He hated the idea of that, hated everything about this. It was the only thing left he could do, he thought. Anything else would get him and anyone he loved in worse conditions than he'd want to see again. Too many deaths, too much blood. "Dad!!" 

"Fine... Fine fine finefinefinefinefine." Annoyance laced every mumbled word, his previous grimace morphing into something a bit more dead, the only hint that he hadn't already given up being the wrinkles on the bridge of his nose where he scrunched it at the thought that he was quite literally handing himself over. At least it wasn't into the GCPD.... Nope. This was worse. Unfair comparison too.

Time for the magic words, building up as much composure as he could. His back went stiff, straight and stoic, sitting up as best as he could to try and endure the self-torture he was dealing out.

"I accept."

RA'S: There was no need to hide the smirk that rose this time, with the boy's reluctant assent, even though he straightened his back and tried to take it like a soldier.  As if Bruce was watching, as if Bruce would care how the boy handed himself over when he was handing himself over.  "Very good, Timothy."

He let Tim rest there at his feet for a moment before uncrossing his legs and nudging the boy up to his feet, following suit a moment later.  His assassins appeared from their hiding places, and Ra's instructed a handful of them to go ensure that Stephanie was dropped off outside the gate to Wayne Manor.  "As for you, Timothy, I have a car waiting to take us to the airstrip.  You could use a vacation from the city, I'm sure."  Vacation was hardly the right word, but the boy would catch his drift, regardless.

TIM: Don't treat me like a fuckin' dog. The words dared to escape, make themselves known, but he had to settle for speaking through his eyes. His jaw was clenched too tight to try forming words anyways, though through all the effort a single tear slipped past his iron-clad defenses, falling perpendicular to the deep line that framed the side of his face. Too many scars to try counting, and yet that one still burned, still reminded him of the shards of glass scoring his skin, a fight he'd thought he'd earned, a death he was too ready to accept. He'd saved Bruce's legacy. If only Dick hadn't been there to catch him, maybe this wouldn't have happened, maybe people would be safe from the curse of tragedy that followed him.

All Tim could do was follow his new orders in silence, standing with his eyes locked to the ground. At least he'd done what he needed to do. The Mission was complete, as far as he knew, with a few extra perks to boot. His Team was safe. His family wouldn't be bothered. Steph was alive. It's all he could ask for, anything after this didn't matter, clearly. This was his last Mission, his last stand as Red Robin...

Fuck that.

"I don't take vacations." The cold words finally came through, cracked and broken, his new-found emotions finally getting to him.  Tim finally brought a covered palm up to swipe at the water stain on his skin, and got a terrible idea.

Being sneaky was always his favorite part of the job. Let's see if he could still even pull it off.

"Whatever..." Hands clenched behind his back, fingers made quick work of finding the one solid compartment that housed his gauntlet's computing processor. It took no time at all to find the microcontroller and crush the chip in his hand, the debris falling to the ground as soon as he opened his palm. It wasn't much, but it was something. If anything, it would hopefully look like a show of his new 'loyalty'. If anyone could find the near microscopic remains of Wayne-Tech chip work, it was his family. Maybe then they'd know how dangerous this situation was, if the fact that he didn't leave anything for them to track was any sort of hint. With his last little act of rebellion, he raised both hands, a light form of surrender.

"Let's just get this over with."