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Jack and Janet are away overseas, leaving Tim alone in Drake Manor, for more of the year than they are home. But when they are home, they are a little more than borderline abusive.
Anyone who hasn’t been in an abusive situation will tell you without hesitation that it is wrong and if you find yourself in such a situation, you should get out of there immediately. But those who are raised in it, especially victims of child abuse, don’t understand how wrong it is and often believe it is normal.
Tim’s parents would be returning home from Portugal within the hour, for a full two weeks! He would be spending a whole fortnight uninterrupted with them after they had been away for eight months.
He had gotten a phone call from Janet half an hour ago, their plane had just landed in Gotham. Tim had been in the middle of a Robin case, he had nearly dropped his phone in surprise. Janet had told him that she expected Drake Manor to not look like a pigstye and that he would be ready and waiting to go out for a family dinner.
Tim had been ready since Janet had ended the call, half an hour ago. He had showered and replaced his sweats and hoodie (which he had stolen from Dick a month ago) with a brand-new suit (His parents had bought it for him when they were last in Gotham). For the last half hour, he had been waiting on the steps in the great hall, although he was super careful not to crease his suit.
He had messaged Bruce earlier to tell him that he wouldn’t be going on patrol that night due to his parents coming home. The man had told him to enjoy his time. Eventually, he heard keys jangling in the lock before the door swung open to reveal his parents, accompanied by suitcases. Suitcases that they left outside the door.
Janet swept forward and promptly seized Tim’s arm, her long sharp perfectly-manicured nails (in an ice blue shade, he noted absently) digging into his arm even through his suit.
“Your father and I are exhausted, we have just gotten off a long flight and you have to make things difficult by not being ready for us?” Janet snapped as she guided him out to where the car was idling in the drive.
For one fleeting moment, Tim forgot what both Janet and Jack had taught him his whole life, “But I was ready for you! I couldn’t wait outside for an hour,” he protested.
He felt the slap before Jack’s hand came down on his cheek. “We do so much for you and you can’t wait outside for an hour?” he roared. Jack led his sharply and harshly back into Drake Manor, up the main stairs, down the hallway, and…into Tim’s room.
When they approached his room, it finally clicked and Tim started to verbally protest (he knew better than to physically do so, he didn’t fancy yet another bruise). “N-no, Dad. I’m sorry! It won’t happen again! I’m sor-” a fist to his nose cut him off.
“Too late boy. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” Jack told him, the anger still very clear in his voice. Tim bit back the retort that what Jack had just said was impossible: one couldn’t be sorry for something that they hadn’t yet done.
But they had reached his room and Jack didn’t just toss him in there, he marched forward to the closet, opened the door, and...tossed him inside.
No no no. Not again! They were going to forget about him and leave him locked in here again.
“N-no! Dad, I’m sorry! Don’t lock me in the closet!” His pleas did nothing to Jack. The man took hold of the closet door before slamming it in his face, leaving him in utter darkness. Moments later he heard the jingle of keys in the door before the locking bolt slammed closed, trapping him inside.
“If you were a good boy, Tim, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Jack told him, his voice slightly muffled by the wooden door; before he heard the sound of footsteps walking away and eventually a car door slam. His parents had left (again) and he was alone, locked in his closet.
There was a steady supply of air in his closet but there wasn’t enough space to get comfortable, that was probably why Jack always shut him in there instead of just in his bedroom. He could turn sideways a little but he couldn’t sit down completely so he was stuck either standing up or in a weird position that didn’t help his knees.
The first thing he did was check his pockets, his phone was not in any of them. Once he took note of that, he remembered that he had left it on the bottom step of the main staircase when he had gone to greet his parents.
It wasn’t like it would do any good, there was no one he could call. He wasn’t on patrol tonight and the next time Bruce was expecting him was tomorrow evening at seven for patrol, and regardless, they were only partners. If he did call someone, what could he say? My Dad punished me and I couldn’t handle it?
Tim almost laughed at that but he didn’t. He stood in the closet as the seconds and then minutes passed in near silence. Someone would let him out eventually, even if it wasn’t his parents, Mrs Mac would when she came around tomorrow.
In the meantime, however, he had to wait.
Sometime later, Tim noticed that there was now a little sliver of light making its way into the closet. From past experiences, he knew that mean that it was at least mid-afternoon by now. A crick had formed in his lower back and his knees were starting to protest.
It was only when he remembered where he was, after being awake for a few moments, that the claustrophobia properly hit him.
Sight was one of his main senses, he relied on it to get the best shots with his camera and to be able to track moving subjects to be able to even aim the aforementioned camera. So being unable to see was not at all pleasant, to be put lightly.
His breath began to quicken until all he could hear was his loud uneven breathing. Tim twitched hard, hitting the wooden back of his closet with his back and the fabric of his clothes with the other.
Were the walls getting closer to him? They weren’t this close to him a few minutes ago.
Despite Tim messaging him to say that he wouldn’t be joining them on patrol that evening, Bruce had a hint of uncertainty; from what he had heard from Tim and seen at various galas, Jack and Janet Drake weren’t the best parents.
Tim had pulled out of patrol for the evening but not the movie night that was supposed to and was actually happening afterwards. But ten PM arrived with no sign of the fifteen-year-old.
“B, I think you need to check on Timmers,” Jason told him without looking up when Bruce entered the TV room where the movie night was going to take place. “Something’s not right,” the nineteen-year-old added.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, concern starting to form once more.
Jason shrugged. “Not sure. Could you just text him?” Bruce did indeed text Tim, not once but four times within the span of fifteen minutes. He didn’t get a reply to any of them. He even tried calling him. Nothing.
“I’m going next door,” Bruce declared as he passed the TV room where both Jason and Dick were located.
“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Dick asked, instead of confirming his statement.
“Should be nothing but if come if you want,” Bruce answered. Both Dick and Jason end up coming with him.
They make the one-mile journey over to Drake Manor in silence. The sky is black without even a hint of the moon, the clouds smothered it as a thunderstorm seemed to be rolling in.
Bruce tried ringing the doorbell. Yes, even though the Drakes and Tim had gone out for dinner. What he, nor the two with him, expect is for the gates to swing open for them.
“We don’t even know if anyone - if Tim - is even home,” Dick said as they made their way up the drive towards Drake Manor, verbalising what they were all thinking.
An hour ago.
Jack and Janet had returned from their dinner at a (presumably) high-end restaurant in Gotham. Janet had retired to her room to clean her face of makeup while Jack went to go deal with the heir of Drake Industries.
He found the kid still locked inside the closet but he wasn’t making a racket, just silently standing there. Like he should. He doubted that the kid even noticed that he had unlocked the door and opened it. Let alone him taking off his belt. The kid definitely did notice that the end of his belt had struck him, however, as he cried out.
“Boy, do you know what your actions tonight did?” he asked.
“I-I ruined the dinner?” the kid tried. The buckle of the belt came down onto his body this time.
“Not only did you ruin our meal but you also ruined a very profitable business deal,” he told the kid. “Was that your plan? Ruin two profitable events with one action?” Jack asked.
The belt came down, leather end this time, not once nor twice but thrice. He pulled it back towards his chest like a snake preparing to strike prey.
“Easier punishments don’t seem to be effective, Timothy,” he spat the kid’s name out like it was something foul. “It seems something older is required?” Despite making it sound like a question, both occupants of the room knew that it most certainly wasn’t.
Jack put his belt back on before roughly grabbing Tim’s arm once again as he had down in the foyer. He tugged the kid along with him, out of the room, back down the hallway, down the main stairs, and then down another smaller set of stairs to the basement.
The kid was writhing, protesting, and pleading for him not to do it. What a baby.
The old wooden chest was still where he had left it the last time it had been needed and used. Its lid was even still open, just waiting for him to force the kid inside.
As Jack led him down the basement stairs, Tim had a sinking feeling that he knew where the older man was taking him.
“It won’t happen a-again. I’ll be good! Please don’t put me in the box again!” Tim tried to plead.
His dad didn’t say anything to his pleas instead he ordered him to “Get in there.” with a mighty shove towards the chest.
Much too slowly, he started to approach the chest. Slow enough that Jack demanded that he “hurry it up otherwise I’ll stuff you in there myself,” but he did get into the chest eventually without him needing to do that.
As soon as he was scrunched up inside the chest, his dad slams the lid shut over him and he heard the sound of a key turning in a lock once more. Then he’s alone again, Jack had left the basement for the topside of Drake Manor.
The present.
“We don’t even know if anyone - if Tim - is even home,” Dick said.
They were approaching the doors of Drake Manor by now. “He’s here,” Jason decided, instead of agreeing.
Jason might just be right, there are lights on inside. When they get within knocking distance of the door, Dick knocks. They wait one minute, two, then six, and no one comes to the door and nothing happens.
Then Jason tried the handle, and to their surprise the door swung open easily and they enter the building. The lights are on but there is no sign of anyone. No Jack, Janet, or Tim.
“The basement,” Jason tells them, a little quieter than normal speaking volume, before he heads for the smaller staircase that leads down.
“Jase, how are you sure?” Dick asked as he and Bruce followed him down. No lights were on in the basement but as they descended the steps some overhead fluorescents turned on automatically.
“I just am,” Jason told him before he made a bee-line for a suspiciously unassuming rectangular wooden crate that was in the middle of the space. A faint sound reminded them of someone taking a breath before a sob rang out in the space.
It was coming from the crate. Without a word, all three of them converged on the crate which was more of a chest really.
“It’s locked,” Bruce declared after he had taken the lock into his hands. It’s not long before Dick is holding out a lock pick to him. He took the pick and started on the lock.
“What if it’s not him?” Dick asked.
“It is,” Both Bruce and Jason answer.
Jack and Janet still haven’t noticed that three people had entered their unlocked manor and gotten into their basement. Did the couple not have any sort of security system at all?
The lock clicks open and Bruce tugs it off so that he can flip open the lid. When he does open the lid of the chest, what he sees doesn’t live up to what he was hoping to see, it’s the exact opposite.
Tim is indeed inside the wooden container, he’s more crumpled than curled into a position that looks excruciating. Somehow, that’s not even the worst part. The fifteen-year-old’s head is turned skywards and his eyes are open but they’re glassy and Tim doesn’t make any indication that he’s noticed that Bruce is standing there.
“Tim?” Bruce asked, carefully. At the sound of his name, Tim reacts rather violently: he’s surging up and out of the crate to stand unstably on his feet. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s away from the crate and closer to Jason (rather it be on purpose or accidentally, they’ll never know).
“B-Bruce? What are you doing here?” he asked. Tim hasn’t seemed to notice that Jason and Dick are also in the room yet.
“I - we - came to check on you, you didn’t show up for movie night,” Bruce told him.
There’s something off about Tim, he can tell it even though the kid’s only been out of that box for a few moments.
“Oh,” Tim breathes. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” he apologised.
What the actual fuck? Why’s he apologising? It wasn’t his fault that he was locked in a box.
Before he has a chance to say anything, Bruce beat him to it. “Tim, son, no. You don’t need to apologise for something that wasn’t your fault,” he told the fifteen-year-old.
Somehow, Tim doesn’t properly understand that. He shook his head. “But it is my fault, I didn’t show up for movie night,” he tried to reason.
This time Jason beats Bruce to speak. “Timmers, you didn’t show because you were busy being locked in a fucking crate,”
“I wouldn’t have been put into it if I hadn’t been bad,” Tim argued.
“There is so much wrong with what you just said,” Dick decided, speaking for the first time since they had gotten Tim out of the crate.
“But you haven’t missed all of the movie night just yet, there is still time,” Bruce cut in. The Drake’s basement wasn’t a good place to have this kind of conversation.
“Okay,” Tim agreed. Bruce leads the way back up the stairs and out to the foyer.
“Is there anything you want to get from your room?” He asked before they depart Drake Manor.
Tim shook his head. “I can’t get anything from my room without disturbing my parents,” he explained. “I don’t want them stopping me,” he added in a small voice.
Behind him, both Jason and Dick are wearing matching dismayed expressions.
“Okay. I’m sorry about that,” he said before they leave the building and make the one-mile journey back to Wayne Manor.
When they arrive, they find Alfred waiting with hot chocolate. Even the old butler had noticed that something wasn’t right; they only got Alfred's hot chocolate after a really bad patrol or a nightmare or something terrible had happened.
So Dick and Jason both take a mug and migrate back to the TV room, Tim is a little more reluctant but does eventually take one and join the older two. Bruce joins Alfred in the kitchen to tell him what happened over at Drake Manor. To which the Briton responds with “the poor lad. Mr and Mrs Drake do not deserve to be parents". Bruce agrees wholeheartedly.
Shortly after their conversation in the kitchen has wrapped up, Bruce joined his kids in the TV room. Their movie night does end up going ahead, just a little later than expected.
The next day, as Jack and Janet are just about to leave Drake Manor for the airport to catch their flight out to Argentina, the Red Hood pays them a visit. A visit with both his guns out.
The couple ends up missing their flight to Argentina. They still have their lives - barely - but neither Jack nor Janet will be able to lay a hand on Tim or anything that could be used to hurt him for the next few weeks, at least.