Nat Lust's Journal

Fear and Manipulation, two things you don't have. Sarcasm and Wit, I have. XD

Shadows Thrive

       Alfred walked into the kitchen to find Tim sitting at the counter on a stool. It was strange to see anyone with a night job up at this time of day. The young man looked pale, thin, and tired. That was his usual look though. At the moment Tim looked sheer white, almost translucent, and he was anything but focused. His sharp blue eyes were no where near their usual attentiveness, they were slightly glazed and dull. His hearing wasn't doing well either because Alfred had been calling his name for minutes now. Worried, Alfred walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Tim jumped, almost falling off the stool, and turned to stare at the older man.
       "Master Timothy? What seems to be the problem?"
Tim just stared at Alfred, he cocked his head to the side and his brow furrowed. Almost as if he didn't understand. Tim slid off the stood and walked away. Alfred couldn't let him go when the boy was obviously not well. The butler followed the path blazed before him, calling out to the teen, trying to get his attention. Tim turned down another hallway. The hallway that, Alfred immediately recognized, as the directions to his Master's chambers. Tim stopped and stood in front of Bruce's door. He looked at the door knob. He didn't make any move to enter though. Alfred watched the boy closely. He was Bruce's third and youngest son, definitely the smallest and smartest. The child was painfully observant, this was proved when he admitted to knowing who Batman and Robin were long before Dick became Nightwing. He knew when Bruce was losing control after Jason's brutal death, he stepped up to help control Bruce, became the third Robin, and the most dangerous.                                                                                                                                                               Jason had been reborn through the Lazarus Pits and was rouge most of the time, he had Robin's training and smarts, even street smarts that Bruce didn't have, and he wielded guns. That was an obvious sign of danger, but Tim was far worse.
        With his intelligence, observation skills, and detective skills Bruce was teaching him, it was hard to keep a secret from him. He always thought before taking action, planning numerous ways to catch and subdue anyone. He was a natural at meditation and martial arts techniques, which meant trying to force panic or submission onto him was near impossible. Then there was the killing techniques. If he choose to do so Timothy could unleash painful, quick, slow, or just plain cruel forms of death upon someone. He could use what Cassandra Cain, who was trained for the League of Assassins, had taught him. He could choose to employ techniques that Lady Shiva, Bruce's long-time martial arts rival, had allowed him to learn. He could very easily just choose to carve you with Alfred's favorite kitchen knife and with all of his skills and talents, it was possible that even Bruce would never know he did it. 
       Tim still had not moved an inch. He did blink every minute or so but that was the bare minimum to his actions. Alfred was beyond worried now. He took Tim's right hand and lead him into the opposite hallway, to his own room. When he opened the door he saw the blood. It was frightening to say the least. Alfred didn't like the feeling he was getting from the boy next to him, combine that with the blood covering said boy's sheets, he wanted help. Alfred turned and looked at Tim. The teen's appearance had changed immensely. His eye were wide and no longer had a glazed affect. His body trembled and tears ran screaming down his face. The boy was whimpering.
       "Master Bruce!" The gentleman butler rarely raised hs voice but now was not the time for proper manners. The boy next to him was breaking down. The only time he had seen this happen to the child was when his father had been brutally murdered over the phone connection to the Batmobile and was too late to save him. Alfred had been at the manor that night and was there to help Bruce pick up the pieces of the devastated orphan. "Master Bruce," Alfred caught Tim as his legs gave out, "help! Please!'
Bruce came barreling through the hall, barely stopping short enough to enter the room. He took Tim in his arms and looked at the room for signs of anything that didn't belong. The bloody sheets caught his eye and he glared at them as he carried Tim out of the room. 

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Darker Shadows

          Tim sat up in bed. He was sweating and sticky, a nightmare had interrupted his sleep again. That was the third time tonight. Something must be bothering him, he just needed to pinpoint what. It was six a.m. Too early for him. He tossed the sheets sticking to his body aside and swung out of the over-sized bed. Bruce had great taste in furniture but Tim's bed was a little large for the smaller teen.
          Tim scooted free of the mattress and softly padded to his door. He knew the case he worked that night wasn't the cause of his distress. It had been a simple drug bust. Nothing frightening or disturbing in the least. The teen opened his bedroom door and proceeded to walk to halls of stately Wayne Manor. The carpet was soft under his bare feet. The dark casting darker shadows across the floors and walls.
          He found his legs stopping in front of Bruce's door. He turned his eyes up and peered at the intricate carvings surrounding the door's frame. Tim turned and headed back to his bed. Bruce would likely do far worse than murder him if he woke the Bat up for something so trivial. He couldn't get the itch out of the center of his back though. He curled under the covers once again, drifting off. 
          His dream was painful. Not in every sense of the word. The was nothing there. It was just a blindingly bright light. It hurt to look at it, look away from it, or shield his eyes. It was the classic tunnel vision, only the light wasn't getting closer or moving away. A sharp pain stabbed into his side and twisted. He flinched and covered the tender area. He looked down to see blood covering his hand. It was pouring out of his body at a rapid speed that caused panic to rise.
            Tim jolted awake and clutched at his side. There was blood leaking through his fingers. Not the amount that was in his dream but he was wounded all the same. He pulled his aching body of the bed and into his bathroom. Carefully lifting his night shirt to see what was causing his pain. There was a small cut above his hip bone. Slicing his skin lightly but deep. The hollow of his hip was what was bleeding so profusely. He glared at the cut and  bandaged it tightly. He then tromped to his bed and ripped the covers free. There lying in a stain of blood was the batarang he kept under his pillow. Why was he holding it in the first place? He didn't care any longer. He picked the blade up and stashed it back under his pillow. Alfred was going to string him up for staining the crisp white sheets. Alfred would be up, it was seven thirty. Bruce wouldn't be awake yet. Tim looked at his stained night shirt as well. Better go talk to Alfred. 

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