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It was easy to run away in Gotham. So many alleyways, so many corners. Shadows blended together to form a layer of darkness in the city only pierced by lamps and still-lit buildings. Snow sprinkled the sidewalks and ice littered the roads. It was an easy place to hide in, yes. But it was not an easy place to stay hidden.
Tim gripped his coat. He’d stolen it from Jason’s closet, so it was way too large. He didn’t care. He’d blend in far better with Jason’s old clothes than anything he had. After all, all his clothes were bought by Bruce Wayne: billionaire, businessman, Batman, and his father. The Batman would be able to spot him near Crime Alley in two seconds with any of his stuff on. Jason’s old coat, the only one he had while living in Crime Alley, was nowhere near as effective at keeping out the cold. But it was probably the only jacket in the Manor without a tracker on it, so Tim dealt with it. He could deal with the cold. His fingers were still working, and he could still walk, and he wasn’t going to keel over and die from the chill. He wasn’t as weak as his father thought he was.
He ducked through the thankfully empty alleyway and saw himself in Crime Alley, facing Jason’s old apartment building. There were still families there, but the place where the Todds lived was empty.
Tim whipped around, careful to keep his face obscured with a scarf he’d bought a week ago. Batman had probably hacked the city’s cameras by now to look for him. Cameras were all over Gotham: in alleys, on buildings, rooftops, probably in the birds if the forums were right (Tim thought that was a little ridiculous. Dad would put cameras in bats , not birds.) He didn’t see any, and quickly crossed the street. All the lights in the building were turned off. Everyone was asleep, then. And he knew from Jason that they could never afford something as expensive as a security camera.
Jason had lived on the second floor, and his apartment had a window facing the alley. Tim ducked into the alley, reaching the stairs attached to the building.
“No,” he whispered. “He’s not going to find me here.”
He pulled himself up the stairs, careful to make no noise. Tim was good at that. He’d made no noise in the Manor, as his own father and brother trained and solved mysteries and saved the world and lied to his face afterward. He’d made no noise as his father introduced him to Superman, expecting Tim to be so dumb he couldn’t see through a pair of glasses. He’d made no true noise when his father told him to leave it to Batman when Tim had been the one who’d found Jason. His whole life, he’d stayed at his father’s side, quiet and refusing to break the illusion that his family maintained, all so he could help his father.
Tim nearly fell on his face after opening the window and leaping through, but he regained his balance. The apartment was so dusty he spent a minute coughing and blinking, but got up and slammed the window shut. Thank god Batman did not have super hearing.
Or maybe he did. Wouldn’t be the first lie his dad had told him.
The apartment was so tight and cramped Tim felt like a sardine in a package. No wonder Jason hated the family rooms at the Manor. Everything was so small . He saw the kitchen and the bathroom without moving his head. He had to be in what once was the living room. There was definitely enough for a couch, maybe even a few chairs. To the left were probably the bedroom, though Tim knew that was the only one. He opened the bedroom door. The beds were still there, as Catherine technically still lived in the apartment. The closet remained, as dusty as the rest of the place. Catherine had left a few of her shirts in, and a pair of shoes. A sweatshirt, probably older than Tim himself, was the first thing he grabbed. It was pink with a GAP logo plastered onto it. She’d probably gotten it from a thrift store. It wasn’t a sweatshirt Janet Drake or Bruce Wayne would ever wear.
Something fell out of the sweatshirt’s pockets. A picture, he realized. A young Jason, probably only five or six, with Catherine at the annual Gotham City fair. Jason was laughing, face smushed with cotton candy. Catherine embraced him, not even looking at the camera, kissing her son’s cheek.
Janet had only taken the occasional photo with him. He’d be wearing a suit and she’d be wearing a dress, and they’d take it in front of some boring old painting. She’d never hug him. She’d only grasp his shoulders and look forward like he was a handrail instead of a son.
Be professional , Timothy, she’d said. I won’t have you ruin your image.
Pictures with Dad were better, though. Photos from ski trips, with Bruce clutching his hand as he refused to go down the mountain without his dad, or maybe one from their trip to Paris, where Tim informed his dad of all the research he’d done on the Louvre. But those pictures were shrouded in lies. Dad was probably thinking about League business on that mountain, or how to stop the Joker from breaking out of Arkham. When Tim told him about his day Dad was probably thinking about the latest case Batman had to solve, or which new heroes to induct into the Justice League, or-
He shoved the picture in his pocket. It wasn’t fair. He knew Catherine wasn’t Jason’s real mom. She’d taken a baby abandoned in a hotel room and raised him without ever telling Dad of his son. But at least she cared for Jason. She’d given her whole life to a kid that didn’t even belong to her, and from the picture, seemed happy doing it.
Tim would mean nothing to Dad if they weren’t related. Dad would see him as just another citizen of Gotham to protect but never appreciate. He’d just be invisible Timothy Drake, not seen and certainly not heard.
He sat down in the closet, curling up and ignoring the tears flowing down his cheeks. Tim meant nothing to his father, to the Batman. If he did, Dad would tell him the truth and train him like he’d trained Dick. Why leave Tim out? The only reason could be that he didn’t care. Tim was an obligation; if Janet didn’t want to be a parent, then only Bruce was left to fulfill those duties. But sitting in a closet in an abandoned apartment, Tim knew that was the truth. Batman thought he was too weak and too stupid to ever be worthy.
Time slipped away as he sat there. He didn’t think anything for once in his life. He just sat and stared at the wall, clutching his bag like a teddy bear.
Tim remained a statue when he heard a floorboard creak. He reached for the closet doors and shut them as quietly as he could. Biting his lip, he told himself to stay quiet.
“Get out of the closet, Timothy,” the Batman said. “You’re going home.”
He wiped the tears from his eyes. “No.”
The closet doors flung open. Tim stared at Batman. His father looked down at him, face impassive as he took in the sight of his snotty face and dusty clothes.
“You should probably check Arkham,” he said. “The real criminals are there.”
“Breaking and entering is a crime.”
He looked up and glared at his father. “Then take me to jail. I don’t want to go back there.”
Batman grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Tim stumbled, trying to escape Batman’s grip. The Dark Knight ignored his kicks and picked him up, throwing Tim over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” He pounded against the Bat’s armor. “I hate you!”
The Bat stopped and placed Tim down, though he still gripped Tim’s arm. “Your family has been looking for you,” he said slowly. “They are worried.”
Tim paused. “Jason is worried.” He closed his eyes. Jason was probably cursing him right now for running away, for stealing his jacket, and for going to Crime Alley of all places. His brother didn’t deserve that. Jason hadn’t lied to him. Jason had trusted him, unlike their father and older brother. “I- I should have told him where I was going.”
“You should not have left at all, Timothy,” the Batman grumbled, squeezing his arm. “Do you have any idea what your father is going through? He left work today to find that his son hadn’t returned from school. That his child was out in the city, wandering around, where he could easily be kidnapped or killed. Your brother Dick has been driving around for hours looking for you. He just called your father, crying that he has not found you.”
“You’re lying.” Tim tried to turn away, but the Bat grabbed his other arm and locked him in place. “Dad and Dick don’t care about me. They never have and they never, ever will.” Tears raced down his cheeks. His stomach twisted. Batman searched for weaknesses in his victims, and Tim just showed his. “All they do is ignore me and lie and lie and lie. I won’t go back there!”
He coughed. His body ached as he continued to sob. Batman’s grip loosened slightly and the vigilante bent down, now eye level with Tim. Tim tried to look away, but the Batman grasped his chin. “Why do you think that?”
His father had to be joking. “Dad and Dick are always out and they never tell me why. Dad is always talking to Dick about something , but when I walk in the room they stop! They go on special trips that they never tell me about and pretend like they never left Gotham.” He straightened himself. “The only logical conclusion is that my father and brother have no trust or respect for me. Therefore, they do not care about me.”
“Tim,” the Batman whispered. “You-”
“Why don’t you trust me, Dad?” The dam burst. Tim hunched over as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. “Why am I not good enough?”
Batman- no, his cowl was off, it was Dad - grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. “Timothy,” his father said, petting his hair like Dad had done when he was a boy. “My smart boy. My smart, smart boy.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why Dick, Dad? Why not me? Why did you never tell me?”
Dad hugged him tighter. No wonder criminals feared Batman. Tim could barely breathe as his father clutched him, pressing him against the sleek black armor of the Batsuit. “Tim, my boy. I did not tell your brother. He found the Batcave just two months after he moved in with us. I-” His father actually laughed . “I thought I could raise both of you boys as normal. Innocent. I should’ve known you better.”
“But why let him be Robin?” That was something he could never figure out. Dad was so protective of all of them. He’d hover like a mother hen whenever one of them was sick or injured. Why let Dick be a vigilante risking his life every night?
“Dick needed his mother’s killer to be brought to justice,” Dad said. Tim buried himself in his father’s shoulder, gripping the man’s cape for comfort. “I hoped that by training him, I’d stop him from running off on his own. But Tim, I never wanted this life for any of you. That’s why I never told you, or Jason when he came into our lives. I wanted you all to be safe . I never wanted you to live your life in fear.”
He sniffed. That made sense, but it was so Dad . “You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out?”
Dad chuckled. “I underestimated you, Timothy.” Batman finally ended the hug and cradled Tim’s cheek. “I will never make that mistake again. The time of me keeping secrets from you is over.”
Tim paused. “You have to tell Jason.”
Dad frowned. “I don’t think-”
“No.” Tim jabbed a finger. “Jason’s gonna figure out too, eventually. Did you know he thought you were a mob boss for a bit?” Dad’s eyes were so wide Tim almost laughed. “He was terrified you were hiding bodies in your office, Dad. None of these secrets are protecting us. They’re hurting us.”
“I-”
“It’s either you or me, Dad. You decide.”
Dad slowly put the cowl back on. “You drive a hard bargain, Timothy.” Dad guided Tim out the window, and toward the alley where the Batmobile was parked.
“I am the son of a mob boss, apparently.” He frowned. “I- I’m sorry for running away.”
“I know.”
Tim sat in the back of the Batmobile. Once Dad was sure he buckled his seatbelt ( because he was Dad, after all ), he started the car. Tim somehow felt lighter, like he’d actually been carrying a giant rock for several years without realizing it. Is this how Dick felt when Tony Zucco was thrown in prison? Or during his first night as Robin?
“Get some sleep, Timothy,” Dad said. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“But-”
“We will have plenty of time, as you will be grounded for at least three months. I will be updating the security system to prevent future incidents.”
Of course. Because Batman would always be Dad, and Dad was a control freak. At least , he thought as sleep claimed him, he’s a control freak who cares.