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Jason carefully bypassed the security on the window before crawling into Tim's kitchen. He hadn't forgotten how protective of his space the kid was. Unfortunately for him, Jason needed a hard drive that he had given Tim weeks ago. The little shit hadn’t given it back and Jason needed the case info that was on it. Jason pulled off his helmet and set it on the kitchen table before planting himself in one of the chairs. It was 5:30; Tim should be home from WE soon.
Jason waited another two hours before he heard a key turn in the lock. He had started reading a book on his phone about fifteen minutes after he arrived, but he pocketed the device as he heard the thunk of a bag in the hallway. Tim walked by the doorway of the kitchen without even noticing the hulking presence in his apartment. Jesus, the kid must be absolutely exhausted, Jason thought. He continued to sit, twiddling his thumbs, until Tim returned to the kitchen, no longer dressed in a suit but now in sweats and a t-shirt. Jason looked over him. His dark circles were even deeper than usual and his arms looked- Wait. His arms were covered in scars. Not just the normal bat amount but dozens and dozens of thin, straight, carefully made scars. They varied a bit in length and severity, some paler with age, some still dark and new. Some of them weren’t even scars yet. There were wounds on his arms that couldn’t even be two days old. Jason couldn’t help the choked sound that escaped his lips. What the fuck Replacement? Tim jumped at the noise, whipping around to face Jason.
“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”
Oh hell no. Jason had bigger fish to fry. “Better question Timbit, what the fuck are those?” he asked, darting across the kitchen and grabbing one of Tim’s arms before the kid could get away. Tim flinched, his eyes going wide.
“They’re just from patrol. I fucked up okay? Don’t need to rub it in my face,” Tim snapped, and snatched away his arm, hiding it behind him as if that could make Jason forget what he had seen. “Now I asked what the hell you’re doing in my apartment.”
He seriously couldn’t think Jason was that oblivious. “Fuck off replacement, you can’t seriously think I’m that dumb!” Jason’s voice rose before he even noticed. He was mad, mad at himself and their other family members for not noticing and a bit mad at Tim for risking his life like that.
“I don’t know,” Tim quipped back, voice dripping in sarcasm as he turned around, making his way to the door of the kitchen. Jason breathed deeply several times to collect himself before following.
“No, no, hold on Tim, seriously.” Jason grabbed Tim’s shoulder, trying to turn him around to face him, to communicate directly. “Tim, please. I know what those are. Please just talk to me. ‘m worried about you.”
Jason had a reputation of being cold and uncaring, unsympathetic, especially towards Tim. He’d definitely done shit to earn it. But Tim had become more than just “the replacement.” As the pit had faded and Jason had spent more and more time with the kid, he began to see the kid brother he had always wanted. A kid brother that he wanted to keep.
Tim turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He sounded completely disbelieving. Jason nodded. Tim seemed to think for a second before sighing. “Can I grab a hoodie before we talk about this?” His posture was still stiff, guarding his arms out of Jason’s line of sight as much as possible.
“Yeah, yeah sure. I’ll just-” Jason pointed vaguely to Tim’s living room before walking away, flopping onto one end of Tim’s depressingly grey couch. Tim followed him, pulling on a green hoodie. Jason could see dried specks of blood on one of the sleeves, like Tim had pulled it on and bled through it before. “Tim-” he started, not really sure of how he was going to do this.
"It's really not that big of a deal Jason,” Tim cut in, his expression shifty. “I’m handling it. I’m safe, I don’t want to kill myself or whatever. Really.”
Jason sighed. This was going to take a while. “Bullshit! Tim. It really is a big deal. You’re hurting yourself. That isn’t just something I can leave alone. I’m glad you’re not suicidal, but you’re still hurting yourself. I don’t think you’re ‘handling it’ and even if you think you are, you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” Tim’s eyes looked overbright, and his voice cracked ever so slightly as he protested.
“‘m fine, really. I can handle it.”
Jason reached across the couch and grabbed one of Tim’s hands, clutching it tightly. “Tim. I know asking for help is hard, clearly you didn’t want anyone to know but you need help.”
“I don’t want anyone else to know.” Tim muttered, avoiding Jason’s gaze.
“Tim, buddy, your best chance at recovery-”
“No Jason. I said no. I just- I can’t take the idea of them thinking less of me. I know it makes me unfit, but I just- I can’t lose Red Robin. Bruce would take it away because I’m weak and I’d never hear the end of it from Damian and-”
Jason didn’t know what to say. Tim had a bit of a point. Bruce would definitely bench him, and although Damian had been getting better, Jason didn’t think he was above exploiting a weakness like this.
“Tim, listen to me,” said Jason, tightening his grip on Tim’s hand. “I respect the fact that you don’t want to tell anybody. I do.” Jason sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand, trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, I’m willing to compromise with you. I won’t tell anyone if we can get a harm-reduction system going for you and you let me check in and take care of you.” Tim opened his mouth to say something but Jason cut him off. “But if you keep having trouble after we try that for a while or if you refuse to let me help, I will tell Bruce or Alf. Seriously Tim.” Tim shut his mouth, apparently thinking over Jason’s offer.
“Okay.”
Jason was a bit shocked frankly. He had expected more of a fight from the kid. “Good. ‘Kay.” He could do this. He’d dropped off more than a few kids who’d struggled with self-harm at shelters and help centers that he’d helped establish around crime alley. “You remember Casey from the shelter does for this,” he muttered to himself. Casey was the senior mental health specialist at one of the youth centers Jason had helped fund. She had a system for harm reduction that she had explained to him a handful of months ago. Jason dug through his memory, trying to recall the exact steps and Casey's ‘tips and tricks’. He looked back up at Tim. The kid really did look exhausted and it wasn't helped by the redness around his eyes from holding back tears. “Okay, I need to plan this out and you look tired as fuck right now, so we can talk about this more in the morning, but for right now, I should really look at those.” He pointed at Tim's arms. Step one: assess and dress wounds. “And get all of the sharps out of here,” he added, looking around. Step two: remove anything that someone could use to harm themselves from the vicinity. Tim’s injuries looked like they were from razor blades, but it probably wasn’t overkill to take the knives out of the kitchen too.
“Oh, I- You don’t have to do that, I can deal with them fine.” Tim’s voice shook a bit, but he looked very insistent about doing this himself. Jason thought he was supposed to be the smart Robin. Clearly not.
Jason glared at him. Tim was not in charge anymore. “No. Those,” he pointed again to Tim’s arms. “are maybe, maybe two days old. I am not leaving you to handle sharps. You’re clearly a risk to yourself.” Tim opened his mouth to protest again but Jason beat him to it. “and I know you can deal with wounds fine by yourself, but I really need to check and see. I know it’s embarrassing Tim, but I want to help you get better.” Jason was a bit worried about what he would find. Okay, more than a bit. The variation of age of the scars on Tim’s arms suggested that he’d been doing this for years. Jason shuddered to think what his legs might look like. He stood as Tim nodded. “Okay, we’re gonna go into the bathroom and I’m gonna have you show me and I’ll help you put some ointment on ‘em and then you’re going to put pajamas on and get in bed while I clean up. Sound good?” Tim nodded again. Jason offered him a hand and Tim took it. Jason led them into the bathroom, where he quietly directed Tim to sit on top of the closed toilet. He rummaged through the drawers, looking for a first aid kit. One of the top drawers was filled with a comb and pomade but also several packs of razor blades, two of them nearly empty. Jason shut it and opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a first aid kit.
“Alright,” he said quietly, gesturing for Tim to take off his clothes. The kid pulled off his hoodie with the aura of someone approaching the guillotine. “Your legs too or no?” Jason asked, trying to make his tone as gentle as possible. Tim looked spooked and Jason really needed to keep him calm. Tim hesitated and Jason turned to face the sink, trying to give the kid some privacy under the guise of grabbing supplies from the first aid kit on the counter. When Jason turned around again, the kid was down to a t-shirt, boxers and a pair of novelty socks with the Superman logo on them. Christ, he really was only 18.
Jason knelt next to Tim, looking over his arms and thighs carefully. He inspected the freshest cuts, which were concentrated more on Tim’s arms, though some were scattered on his thighs. His arms were covered in scars, ones genuinely from vigilante work overlaid across dozens and dozens of even, self-inflicted ones. The scarring was horrific on his thighs, and that was coming from Jason. The kid had been doing this for years, to the point of fucking running out of space on his thighs. Jason was gonna be sick. He had hated Tim when he met him, but the kid had grown on him quite a bit. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to fly under the radar like this. For christssake, he had a surplus of siblings and not one of them had fucking noticed. Bruce hadn’t noticed his own kid was cutting himself up like this. Jason breathed deeply. He was here for the kid now and he needed to be strong. Tim was falling apart and needed someone to hold him together. It looked like that was going to be Jason. Jason carefully sterilized and bandaged the newest cuts. “Okay. That should be good for now,” he said, hoisting himself to his feet. “You should get some pajamas on and then get in bed.” Tim nodded dully, collecting his clothes and walking out of the room in the direction of his bedroom.
Jason turned back to the counter, shutting the first aid kit and putting it away before opening the drawer he had found earlier. He carefully collected the razorblades, fishing the open ones out of the mess of the drawer, where they sat buried under Tim’s toothpaste. He collected all of them, trying to ignore the flecks of dried blood that dotted some of them. He’d seen his siblings bleeding out in alleyways before, but this was different. He also grabbed the box of face razors in the drawer and collected the one sitting on the edge of the sink before venturing into the kitchen, where he found a roll of aluminum foil and wrapped the razors in it. He would deal with them and the knives properly tomorrow. For now, he placed the ball of aluminum foil in the pocket of his jacket, which he hung in the hall before he toed off his boots and headed to the guest room. Tim kept a spare set of clothes for almost everyone in the guest room closet because he was a planner. Jason dug around in the closet before finding a pair of sweats in his size and a t-shirt that might have once been Dick’s. Removing his Red Hood gear and piling it on the floor, he changed clothes and followed after Tim. When he entered Tim’s room, the younger boy was lying in bed, his eyes still a bit hazy, drowning in his green duvet. Jason looked quickly around the room, zeroing in on the nightstand. He was willing to bet that if Tim had razors anywhere other than the bathroom, it would be in here. Tim was clean and paranoid, meaning that even with his security, he would hide his habit in the places where it either blended in or wasn’t likely to be found.
“I think I’ve gotten everything,” Jason said, keeping his voice quiet. “Is there anything in here?” Tim nodded, pointing to the nightstand before burying his face quickly into the duvet. Jason pulled open the drawer of the small table and lifted the worn out paperback that covered the drawers contents. Jesus kid. There were a handful of razor blades, all opened but rewrapped carefully in their paper, stacked next to a pile of antiseptic wipes, gauze, and bandages and what had probably once been a tissue but now was so covered in dried blood it was unrecognizable. Jason gathered everything and replaced the paperback. He returned the gauze and bandages to the bathroom first aid kit, threw away the tissue, and added the blades to the collection in the pocket of his leather jacket before returning to Tim’s room. The kid looked like shit. His eyes were watery and red, emphasizing the purple rings under them. Jason could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he plopped down on the bed next to Tim.
“Hey baby bird. Can hear you thinking from the other room.” He patted Tim’s head. The younger boy looked a bit pathetic, like Alfred the cat the time he had to be washed. He also looked equally as miserable. Jason patted the tuft of hair poking out of the covers. “‘m proud of you, you know? Asking for help is fucking hard. I know it is and I’m glad you did. I’m gonna stay tonight okay baby bird? For my peace of mind. I’m just gonna be in the guest room okay? Just down the hall. Promise.” There was no way in hell Jason was leaving the kid on his own for at least a couple of days. Tim hummed quietly in response and shut his eyes. Jason whispered “goodnight” as he stood and headed to the guest bedroom.
The next morning, Jason rose bright and early. He wandered around Tim’s apartment for a while, opening drawers and checking common hiding spaces. He found no more blades. He then proceeded to the kitchen, where he collected Tim’s knife block and scrounged a cardboard box out of the recycling. He piled his Hood gear and the knife block into the box as well as his leather jacket with the blades still wrapped up in the pocket. He would make breakfast and eat with Tim before dropping that stuff off at his place and collecting an overnight bag. Jason shuffled around the kitchen, finding the fridge nearly empty and the pantry equally as dismal. Checking the clock, he estimated that Tim wouldn’t be up for another hour, which meant that Jason had plenty of time to run down to the corner store at the end of Tim’s block and collect something for breakfast.
Jason was silently thankful for Tim’s severe exhaustion as he slipped back into the apartment, grocery bag in hand, to find the younger boy still asleep. He proceeded to make eggs and bacon as quietly as humanly possible because while Tim was knocked out at the moment, he was still an incredibly light sleeper at the best of times. After Jason finished the bacon and started portioning things out, he headed to Tim’s door, which was mostly closed. Through the crack though he could hear a quiet swear and a muffled thump. He knocked. “Tim?”
“What?” Tim’s voice still sounded thick with sleep.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Jason pushed the door open and sat down next to Tim, who was laying on his back, sheets still pooled around his waist.
“Hey kid.”
“Don’t ‘kid’ me, I’m eighteen.” Bless his heart.
“No can do. At least I’m not like Dick.” Dick’s awful nickname game had only gotten worse as he acquired more and more younger siblings. Tim had been subject to “teeny Timmy” last week, which was, in Jason’s opinion, quite accurate, as humiliating as he’s sure it was. Tim thought for a moment before responding.
“True.”
Jason nodded in agreement. “I made breakfast. Which, by the way, I had to go out for. Your fridge is sad.” He might be being nice to Tim right now but he would not miss a chance to rib him for his empty fridge.
“I’ve been busy at WE.” Jason fought the urge to call up Bruce and yell at him for allowing a burnt-out teenager to overwork himself as CEO of his company.
“C'mon, let’s eat,” he said, standing. Tim followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table as Jason placed a plate in front of him. They ate in silence for a while, Tim practically inhaling his food as Jason tried to think carefully about what he was going to say.
“We need to talk about how this is gonna work.” He stated. Tim nodded, seemingly transfixed by the remnants of his breakfast, avoiding Jason’s eyes. “I know you don’t want to lose your independence but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I think me staying with you here is best, even just for the first few days. Once you get through those, I’ll back off a bit. I still need to make sure I got all of the sharp things out of here. If you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself, you call me, you understand? no matter when, you call me. We can get dinner and do a check-in once a week or so too.” Jason mentally gave himself a little pat on the back for remembering Casey’s steps.
“When did you get so good at this?”
Jason hesitated. “Kids in Crime Alley are prone to.. this. One of the shelters I help has a crisis plan that’s basically what I just told you.”
“Wow, plagiarism.” Little shit. Jason was glad his sense of humor was still intact.
“Fuck off.” Jason finished his bacon and set down his fork, his tone shifting into something more serious. “But does that sound okay to you? I know you value your space and I don’t want to intrude on that.” Tim was probably the most private of all of the family, second only to Jason and maybe Kate.
“Yeah, I guess,” Tim responded. Jason cleared and washed their plates while Tim dried the dishes and put them away. When they were finished, Jason spoke again.
“Okay, first you’re going to tell me if I missed any little stash of sharps you have lying around, and then I’m gonna take the other stuff and then swing by my place and grab a bag.” He was fairly certain he’d gotten everything, but it really didn’t hurt to check.
“Okay,” Tim replied, his eyes glazed over a bit as he stood in the middle of the kitchen.
“Timbit?” Jason approached him and waved a hand in front of Tim’s face, causing him to blink.
“Oh!” Tim exclaimed, finally getting with the program. “Uhhh… they were all in the top drawer in my bathroom and in my nightstand. That was it.” Jason nodded, pleased with his detective work. He headed out of the kitchen and down the hall, grabbing his box as he went. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder at Tim.
“Go watch some TV or something. I’ll be back.” Tim blinked and turned towards his living room as Jason shut the front door and started down the stairs.
Jason pulled his jacket out of the box, put it on, secured the box on the back of his bike, and donned his helmet. The ride to his own apartment was pretty quick, even when not on his bike. This time of morning, after the commute rush had subsided, it took Jason less than ten minutes to get to his building and park his bike. He tossed the aluminum foil wrapped razors in the dumpster before heading up the stairs to his apartment. He wasn’t going to throw away the knife block because it looked really fancy. He’d keep it for himself for a while and give it back to Tim eventually. Setting the box in his entryway, he stalked through his apartment, grabbing a backpack and enough clothes for a couple of days as well as his book, computer, and some toiletries. Tim’s apartment was pretty well stocked and getting back to it as soon as possible was the priority. Jason snatched a pair of high tops off of his shoe rack and headed out back out the door.
The drive back over was equally as boring as the drive home had been and Jason was in the alley next to Tim's building in no time. He spent a moment deliberating between the front door (normal, boring) and the fire escape (fun, cool, whimsical) before deciding that he needed some exercise. He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickly scaled the fire escape until he reached Tim’s living room window. Tim was plunked on the couch as per Jason’s instructions but seemed to be typing on his laptop. Little shit. Jason tapped on the window, hunching down so Tim could see his face. Tim jumped and rushed over to the window, letting Jason in.
“You could just knock and use the door like a normal person.” He grumped, glaring at Jason.
“No fun!” Jason exclaimed, setting his bag down and flopping onto the couch. “Now, what’cha watchin’?” Hold on, the TV was off. The little fucker was working! “You aren’t seriously doing work right now?”
Tim had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself. “No?”
This kid. Did calling Bruce and telling him to force Tim to take time off at WE count as involving someone else? It wasn’t like Bruce would know why.
Jason dove across the couch to tap shut the lid of Tim’s laptop before settling back into his corner and pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and digging around for a remote. He patted the space next to him to encourage Tim to sit down. The kid was still standing in the middle of the room like he was lost. “Cmon, we’re gonna watch some brainless reality TV.”
“What if I don’t wanna watch brainless reality TV?”
“Sucks to be you then.” Jason wanted to get Tim distracted and not spiral into a pit of self loathing and The Real Housewives of Star City was very distracting, in Jason’s humble opinion.
“‘My house, my rules’ isn’t sacred anymore,” Tim complained, but he did settle down on the couch next to Jason before stealing the blanket as Jason turned on the TV. Most of the day inched by as they cycled through daytime TV shows. Tim had calmed down, his breathing even and slow. He had migrated into Jason’s side and slid under his arm, relaxed for the first time in at least 24 hours. Jason gave himself a mental pat on the back. At around 2, Tim’s phone rang. Tim stirred, freeing himself from under Jason’s arm and diving for his phone before it went to voicemail.
Jason couldn’t make out what was going on at the other end, but he thought he could recognise Bruce’s tinny voice. “Yeah? What’s up? I haven’t finished that case file but I can have it done by tonight.” Almost definitely Bruce. There was a pause as Bruce spoke again. “I’m fine, was just really tired, I haven’t slept in a couple of days between patrol and work.” Tim insisted, his face tight and anxious. There was more talking on the other end before Tim set the phone down and buried his face in his hands.
“Tim?” Jason said.
Tim looked up at Jason, his eyes filled with tears. “See? I have to be perfect, be above average, people only care about the work I do and it has to be perfect.”
Something clicked for Jason at that moment and he finally understood. He grabbed Tim’s shoulders, trying to get the smaller boy to look him in the eye. “No no no Tim, that’s not true. You’re allowed to make mistakes and you’re so much more than work, so much more than WE and Robin. You’re allowed to be just Tim, you’re allowed to be a normal eighteen year old and fuck up and disappoint your parents. You’re allowed.” Tim sagged into Jason’s arms, his shoulders shaking. Jason floundered a little but as Tim began to withdraw, Jason clutched onto him, pulling him into a real hug. Tim broke completely, sobbing against his brother’s chest.
“‘m so tired. I don’t know why I’m acting like this, ‘s stupid.” God, this kid. There was no way he’d just become like this on his own. He must have learned it from his parents or something because good god was his self esteem awful. That was an insane standard to hold anyone to, let alone an actual fucking teenager who was already doing shit most people considered impossible.
“No kid, it’s not stupid. A lot has happened in the last couple of days and I think you’ve been overworking yourself for a really long time. Your emotions are gonna be all over the place and that’s okay.” Tim sniffed tearfully and looked up at Jason, his face red. Jason gently guided them back to where they had been sitting before and allowed Tim to readjust himself into a more comfortable position before turning the TV back on at a low volume. Tim snuggled back up to Jason like a koala, eventually falling asleep not long after.
The next few days were definitely a journey. Tim was understandably exhausted and extremely emotional, liable to have an outburst at the drop of a hat. He’d gotten pissed on day two when he’d discovered his knife block was missing, a decision Jason defended. On the third day, Tim burst into the guest room, totally not scaring the shit out of Jason and making him lose his spot in his book. He pointed to his face.
“I need to shave.” Oh shit, Jason had not thought of that. In his defense Tim was so little! But he had had a face razor on his counter. Shit, how was Jason gonna do this.
“Do you? You’re just a baby.” Make fun of the kid. Great job.
“Fuck off.” Tim paused. “Please Jason.” Well shit.
“Fine.”
Jason tugged on his high tops as Tim collected his own shoes and his keys and they headed down to the same corner store he had bought the bacon from several days prior. The guy behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone as they walked in and headed to the hygiene aisle. As they stood in front of the razors, Tim tugged at his sleeves, clearly nervous. Jason scanned the options and selected a flimsy single use plastic one, before dragging Tim along to pay for it. The kid’s eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t really there and Jason tapped through the demands on the credit card screen before they left. By the time they were back at Tim’s and Jason was perching himself on the lip of the tub in the bathroom, Tim seemed more present. Under Jason’s watchful gaze, he shaved the small amount of stubble cleanly off. He hesitated before handing Jason the razor back. Jason thanked him and took the razor into the kitchen, where he crushed the plastic and carefully bent the blades before burying under a pile of trash in the garbage can. He then washed his hands and set out to find some crackers or some kind of snack in Tim’s cupboards. He would kill for a saltine right now. That week was interspersed with moments where Tim looked a bit shocked with how gentle Jason was being with him, surprised that Jason cared. It broke the older man’s heart a bit. The kid was wicked smart and insanely loyal, and yet he didn’t think he deserved anything. Other than a few rough patches, that first week went well, and Jason returned to his own apartment.
A month and a half after Jason had broken into Tim’s kitchen, he got a call at about seven pm. Jason had just sat down to eat his ravioli when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
“Tim? What’s up?”
“I-” Tim’s voice was shaky. “You told me to call if I was thinking about hurting myself.”
Oh shit. This was that call. Jason had known relapses were probably inevitable but he had hoped that Tim would feel safe enough to call him for help. He had clearly been successful. “Oh shit okay, where are you?”
“‘m at home. I had kinda zoned out and by the time I was aware of things again, I was digging around in y’know.. the drawer.” Jason sighed with relief. There hadn’t been anything in there when he had come over for dinner a couple of days previously. Tim was probably okay. “Okay, but there’s not anything in there, so you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“Yeah,” Tim confirmed. “Sorry for calling, it’s stupid. I didn’t even do anything.” Jason should really convince him to see a therapist. Oh fuck wait he was going to hang up. Okay first order of business, getting to Tim right now. Jason could work out the therapist part later.
“No no no!” He exclaimed. “Not stupid, I’m glad you called. I’ll be there in like ten minutes.”
Jason stayed on the phone as he rode over, listening to Tim’s breathing. He had asked for a key the week he’d stayed with Tim and never given it back, so letting himself into the apartment was fairly easy. Tim was slouched on the floor of his bathroom, still in most of his work suit, his shoes and coat discarded by the front door. His sleeves were rolled up and his eyes were still a bit hazy. Jason crouched down, eyes darting across him, verifying that Tim hadn’t done anything.
“‘m proud of you, thank you for calling me.” he murmured. “Let’s get you into something more comfy than this.”
Jason led Tim to his room and handed him a hanger for his work suit and a soft sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before leaving Tim to change. Jason ventured into the kitchen, pulling out a saucepan and milk before searching the cupboards for the jar of Alfred’s hot chocolate mix that he knew was in here somewhere. Tim returned as Jason was pouring the milk, wearing a WE hoodie and a pair of blue sweats. The oversized fit made him look tiny. Tiny Timmy Jason thought to himself.
“You’re being so… you’re coddling me. Why? I don’t deserve-” Tim waved his hands towards Jason. “I don’t deserve this.”
“What have you done not to?”
Tim was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t good enough.”
Jason sighed, stirring the milk on the stove for a moment. “You did your best Timbit,” he said finally. “That’s enough.”