Tim Drake sat on the mousepad chewing on his fingernails nervously. His eyes were riveted to the screen and he didn't even notice the nervous habit. However, since he was wearing his Robin gloves, he ended up tasting a bunch of vile substances he could -- but didn't want to -- identify. He made a face and stopped his ministrations, however his attention to the pixilated letters never wavered. In fact, he didn't even notice when Charlene's tiny Nightwing fictive flipped down from the couch and landed two inches away from him on the living room table.

Dick Grayson looked at the entranced fictive. He looked to the computer screen then back at the seemingly paralyzed boy wonder. Sighing, he strolled up to the younger kid. Tim didn't look his way. He was just as entranced as before and his right hand kept rising subconsciously on him as well. Dick waved a hand in front of Tim's face to get his attention.

"Yo! C'mon kid. Get over it." Dick was trying to be supportive. However, he wasn't very sympathetic. Dick had been living with Charlene for far too long and had lived through some very traumatic times.

After all, there had been the Blackgate thing as 'Robbie Malone'. That wasn't pleasant at all. Then, there was that 'Accidental' motorcycle accident which ended up having more 'Revelations' than he was used to. Not to mention that on a pleasant and seemingly innocent and romantic (yeah right) date with Barbara to the 'Ball': they'd end up kidnapped. Dick kicked at the ground. Stupid 'Governor', he thought, didn't even like the guy.

Dick paused with a thoughtful expression on his face. There were tiny little annoyances that Charlene would write, and then there were things that were just plain sadistic. Like killing him off, honestly, how was he ever supposed to 'Redeem' himself if he was dead? Did that not make sense to *anyone* else? Dick ran a hand through his hair in frustration. And that was a big thing, then there were the little frustrations he had to deal with. Even some downtime with his friends had turned sour. Now, Dick didn't want to ever hear the word 'Roadtrip' again and couldn't have been happier when Charlene's Roy fictive was stuffed in a box and mailed to Timbuktu.

Not to mention that now, *now* there was an evil word. An evil name. A name that would send terrors down his spine and make him run away and hide only to whimper in fear until Babs came for him. The tiny Dick fictive hated that name, because it meant bad things were going to happen to him. And to think Charlene only wrote about him because she loved him that much.

So as he looked at Tim (who seemed to be almost catatonic at this point), Dick couldn't exactly bring himself to feel sympathy for the young boy's pain. After all, usually Tim got off easy in these stories. Besides, Dick had had a fleeting, selfish thought that if Charlene found someone new to focus her angst upon that she'd leave him the hell alone. After all, it wasn't like she picked on Batman.

Still, Tim didn't react. This was 'Different' and definitely out of character for him. Dick sat down beside him crossing his legs and read along. Okay, so *maybe* Charlene had killed Bruce. That definitely had to count for a Bruce ouchie, but then she had the audacity to frame everybody's favorite damn fine for it. Oh yeah, and the kid too. This whole mess was like a badly constructed, topsy-turvy, mystery murder 'Game'.

Dick sighed, he should be nicer to the kid. After all, he was still a kid. Dick grabbed Tim's hand right before the boy wonder could bring it up to his mouth again. Tim didn't deserve this.

But still, Dick rationalized, it wasn't like Tim was innocent. After all, since angst did 'Run in the Family' the third Robin had ended up getting his share of it as Jack Malone. Dick figured however, that himself -- and not Tim -- had still gotten the worst of it. After all, everyone who was anyone knew that emotional angst always overshadows physical angst. Unless the person was dead.

Like Bruce was in the story Tim was reading.

Even so, however, the emotional angst kaleidoscoped to every one of the survivors, and of course the two scapegoats -- Tim and Dick themselves. Dick looked noncommittingly over the words. Okay, arrested... framed... nothing out of the ordinary there. Grayson read the part about not getting to go to the funeral, and clucked his tongue in disapproval. Seemed like standard Charlene faire.

Tim, who had noticed (but not cared) that Dick still held his wrist, brought his left hand up to gnaw on his fingertips. The death penalty? The death penalty???? How could she? He was only a kid! Sure, he was old enough to run around in tights. And he was definitely mature enough to lead Young Justice in fabulous feats of deering-do! But THE DEATH PENALTY! He couldn't even vote yet!

Tim chewed on the green Kevlar, he didn't like this story one bit. And why should he, he thought indignantly. After all, it wasn't like he volunteered for this job? Nope -- hell no! -- he'd gotten drafted. After all, the last time he'd been drafted, he'd wound up on Apokolips with his entire team in shambles. His eyes flickered back over to the screen. Stuck alone in jail, a cold dark cell, only to wake the next morning with no legal means of escape and a nightmare he could only ride through. Yep, definitely worse. The only thing worse was the nasty taste he currently had in his mouth.

Tim spit onto the table. Bleech! Where had that glove been in the last twelve hours? He shook his head, on second thought, he didn't want to know. Tim's last conspiracy had gone awry. His logic had been faulted and the story had yet to stop coming. As such, he was reduced glove biting for the moment.

A week ago, he had contacted Charlene's beta with a plan. A simple uncomplicated plan which was guaranteed to reduce the number of ouchies to his person. After toiling for hours on the bat computer (Charlene's lap top) and consulting with friends that supported the plan (Jack Malone) and speaking with the all knowing Oracle (Charlene herself) he had come up with only one solution: the beta would have to go on strike!

Because if the beta went on strike then Charlene could never get to the trial -- conversely however, Tim would never get out of jail, but he didn't plan that far ahead. And neither did Charlene's beta who promoted went on strike at Tim's urging. After all, she was a card carrying member of PACAS (Protection of Cruel Acts to Sidekicks). But the strike didn't last, evident by the newest part of the fan fiction posted to the web.

Not only was Tim having the worst time of his life, but other people were reading it -- and enjoying it! Where was the humanity huh? Tim continued to gnaw on his glove. The only thing he could hope for was a quick ending. After all, if the words "The End" graced the screen then he could finally breathe easier (or he was dead) either or, the suspense would be over. But that was dependent on Charlene's attention span, and laptop life. Tim continued to read his eyes darting back and forth and his attention was only broken when he bit his finger.

Damn it! He kicked the mouse away in frustration. Dick watched amused. The boy wonder was learning about his world now. Tim jumped to his feet and paced back and forth and back again. He was going to get a complex if this amount of ouchies kept up. He didn’t understand it. He was a nice kid.

Okay not the perfect son, but he was a nice, good, normal, crime fighting kid. He was polite. Smart. Sure, maybe he had two girlfriends at once, but it wasn't like he was trying to be in that circumstance. He kicked the mouse again. Why him, huh? He was too cute to be hurt!

"Shhhhh!" Babs said as she wheeled into view. "What is going on here?"

The perpetual voice of reason turned her head to survey the two men. Dick pointed to Tim and then moved his finger in a circular motion to indicate that Robin had gone "cuckoo!". Babs rolled her eyes and looked at Tim. She looked at the computer screen and knew instantly what the problem was. "Come here kid."

Tim walked over to her with his shoulders slumped and his head down. "She wants to kill me Babs," he muttered in a dejected voice.

"It's okay. I'll talk to her." Tim nodded mutely although still very unconvinced. "She'll listen to me. She's got red hair. She's on my vibe. I'm her role model."

"Awfully small role model," Dick muttered.

"Will she really?" Tim asked, ignoring Dick, as usual.

Babs nodded. "It'll all work out. You'll see. Hey, stop frowning, c'mere kid." Tim walked over and Babs gave him a reassuring hug.

Dick gaped.

"Thanks Babs." Tim smiled. "Y'know, I think court's going to make me hungry... I'm off to get food? You want anything?" Babs shook her head and Dick stood motionless. "I'll be back," Tim assured and jumped from the table.

Babs looked at Dick, an innocent expression crawling over her face. "What?"

"You hugged him!" Dick expressed in disbelief.

Babs managed to hold back a snort of indignant laughter. "It's only Tim."

"You hugged him!"

"What's the big deal Dick?" She smiled. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"You never hugged me?"

"What?" Babs wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"She killed me Babs and I moaned and complained and-- YOU NEVER HUGGED ME!"

Babs looked at him, partly in shook, partly in humor, but mostly in humor. "Is that what your upset about?"

"Well.. duh!"

"You wouldn't be jealous now, would you Grayson?"

"Of that twerp?"

"Uh huh."

"Not on your life Computer Gal!"

"I see. So what can I do to make it up to you?"

"Well, y'know... Charlene does have that baby fic..."

fin

~story index~