Chapter Text
If there was anything that Tim Drake had never anticipated to happen in his life, it was Bruce Wayne agreeing with him that he needed a Robin and that Tim could be his Robin. Tim had prepared an entire speech about the reasons - both his own and Sarah’s, from their first conversation on the rooftop - about why he could fill the roll until another Robin took his place.
“I have every confidence in you to be my partner, Tim. I need someone with smarts, not just guts. This requires so much more than that.”
Tim had that! He had the brains - his grades could prove it, as well as his ability to uncover the identities of both Nightwing, Spectral, and Batman - and the guts, but something deeper inside his brain was telling him this was all a farce. Robin could be Tim.
Tim could never be Robin. Robin belonged to Jason. His hero, his idol, had died bearing that title that Gotham and Batman held with such high esteem.
He wanted to be able to live up to the name… but it wasn’t just that. Tim wanted to live up to it for the Graysons too.
***
The training was hell. Literal hell. Part of Tim was starting to wonder if he should’ve listened to Sarah Grayson’s warning. His parents had already drilled into his brain from a young age that he was created for one purpose: To be the heir of the Drake Corporation. Otherwise, he would amount to nothing. He was there to make his parent's image better. To be a good son.
“Again.”
He did not always miss the punches. His feet were not always in the correct placement, and he did not always notice the things he should’ve, but he would. Tim would be the best Robin he could give to Batman, or die trying.
Tim spat out blood onto the mats and unsteadily rose to his feet.
“Again.”
He tried not to pay attention to the newly added glass case in the corner of the cave. The newly added glass case that, unfortunately, was a living memory of Jason Todd as it held his Robin costume. Tim hated that he had to look at that every time he came in here.
Tim was supposed to be learning. Not remembering that he could never live up to Jason.
“Again.”
“AGAIN.”
He knew Bruce meant well. He always did. However, there was something about the determination and the ferocity in the words spoken by a father who had lost his son. Tim wasn't Bruce's son, but he didn't want to be another on the list of people Batman had lost.
Two weeks passed before Tim had been pressed to his breaking point. He’d woken up that morning alone, without Mrs. Mack making her weekly rounds, to find out that someone had made an anonymous call with a complaint of child neglect against his parents.
It wasn’t neglect. It wasn’t. They were on an archaeological expedition in Turkey for three months. Two had already passed. Tim had been doing this - this living-alone thing - since he was a child. They were doing their job and he was doing his by going to school and keeping up with his studies. Tim was a good son who abided by his parent’s wishes.
It wasn’t neglect.
Tim had everything he could ever need… didn’t he? Loving parents, a beautiful home, money…. But he barely had enough money to get by on groceries when his parents were gone and spent far too much time not eating. That was fine. Tim didn’t need a lot to get by on.
Wonderful houses should be warm and lively, filled with color, laughter, and life. The lights were often left on in different parts of the house when he was there, but usually, there was nobody home beside him.
Another farce. The Drake Mansion was most definitely not a home. It felt more like the equivalent of a tomb.
Little boys aren’t meant to raise themselves in tombs.
Alfred was the one who had told him when he was picked up from school. Bruce was waiting by the time they got to the Manor, gentle and open and sympathetic as he told Tim that he would be staying at the Wayne’s indefinitely.
Tim had simply squared his jaw and nodded, desperately trying to control the tears burning his eyes. This was not fair. First, he’d failed to keep up with the training as Robin - even though Bruce had told him it would take time, that not even Nightwing and Spectral had learned overnight - and now he was being taken away from his parents?
Timothy, you should know better than to embarrass your mother. Compose yourself and get rid of this juvenile behavior at once.
“Yes, sir.” He murmured.
Bruce thought of five-year-old Sarah Grayson and how hesitant she’d first been when she and Dick had moved in, fearful that he was taking her away from her home and everything she’d ever come to know to try and fill the gap left behind by the loss of her parents.
He would try for Tim: Bruce would try because of Sarah and Dick.
“Tim,” He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’re not taking you in because we have to, we’re taking you in because we want to. Alfred and I both care for you a great deal. You’re only thirteen. You are still a child, and a child should not spend every waking moment alone in such a big and empty house.”
“Master Bruce is right, Master Timothy.” Bruce’s hand was replaced by the worn and smooth hand that was undoubtedly Alfred as he began leading him in the direction of the kitchen. “I believe that a proper meal is to commend your first night in the Manor. What would we like?”
Something heavy and suffocating bled out of Tim as he eased into the chair across the counter from where Alfred was going to cook.
What would he like? He’d like to go out into Gotham tonight and talk to Spectral. Surely that would be easy.
Surely.
***
“You keep staring at me with The Eyes and I’m going to take my fingers and dig them into your sides,” Sarah warned, propping herself on her knees to meet her brother’s eyes across the mats. It was nearly mid-afternoon in Gotham’s Acrobatics Academy - one of the newer facilities where Sarah and Dick had begun teaching twice a week. “And then I’m gonna embarrass you in front of your merry band of rambunctious five-year-olds.”
Dick guffawed and lowered himself to his haunches, poising himself to slowly maneuver into a one-handed handstand. Show off.
“Fine. You don’t want to fall victim to The Eyes? Then let's have a competition for old times' sake. Top this, Little Wing!”
“Do you forget we were taught by the same person?" She shouted. "It’s on, Dickie Bird!”
Dick’s minions had only just begun to filter into the building at the check-in desk with their parents whenever Sarah caught the glow of her phone screen on the bench nearby.
Incoming Call: Big Empty Bat Nest
“Sarah,” Barbara Gordon called out, flattening her palms against the wheels of her wheelchair. Dick had practically begged her to accompany them to the Academy so someone other than Sarah - who made fun of him regularly for being the equivalent of a kindergarten teacher - could marvel at his natural skills with kids. “Phone call. Might wanna take it if it’s Grandpa.”
Her heart clenched painfully in her chest at the mention of Alfred. Sarah acquiesced to Bab’s suggestion and allowed Dick to win their little competition before picking up the phone call. “Hello?” She asked.
There was a long pause on the other side of the line before a young male voice answered, “Please tell me this is Sarah Grayson.”
“And if it was?”
“It’s me. The baby bat from the rooftop.” He said flatly. Said Baby Bat didn’t sound quite too keen on calling himself that.
What the heck is Tim calling me from the Manor for? And how did he find the one-burner phone we stashed in the kitchen years ago for emergencies?
“Timmy?” Sarah said quietly, pushing the phone against her ear as she moved to the other side of the room. “Why are you calling me from a burner phone Dick and I stashed years ago? And why are you calling from the Manor?”
“Someone calls DCFS on my parents and I’m now temporarily living at the Manor. Bruce says I can’t live alone because I’m a child, but he doesn’t know. I was fine. I am fine.” Sarah softened and ran a hand over her face. The last thing she needed was for Tim to find out that it had been her who had made that phone call. Everything in her wanted to hug that baby bat and reassure him that he needed to be loved and cared for by someone other than The Drakes because he was worth caring for. “I would like to talk to you in private. Tonight. Where can we meet?”
“Think you can get away?”
Tim snorted. “You underestimate me severely, Sarah. I’m wounded.”
“Okay, Timbers. The rooftop of the building opposite Batburger, the one closest to Gotham Acrobatic Academy. Midnight. Come alone.”
Tim didn’t have enough time to reply before he heard Dick shouting his sister’s name and gleeful child laughter on the other side of the line just before Sarah hung up. He snapped the phone shut and slid it back into its proper place before returning to what was left of Alfred’s lunch.
Turns out, if persuaded with the right brand of exotic black coffee, Tim can and will eat like a normal human being.
***
Tim found himself curled up against the ledge later that night, face hidden by the oversized hood that kept him safe from the view of any vigilantes who may cross his path. Sarah knew where to look. She knew how to look.
A figure clad in lavender and black settled silently beside him before kicking her legs over the ledge and settling a bag containing two milkshakes inside between them.
“Chocolate milkshake and fries. Our go-to patrol favorite. Want one?”
Tim eyed the bag suspiciously, neglecting the obvious fact that there was a third occupant of the rooftop lingering just in the shadows behind them both. He reached out a hand with his palm up to accept a single fry. His stomach wouldn’t handle much else. Tim had been trying to calm his nerves since he'd biked here and navigated the fire escape, but the twists and knots that were growing constantly tighter would not abate even with the constant repetition of I'm fine they're safe I'm fine they're safe I'm fine they're safe.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Tim confessed quietly. “Most people don’t come when I ask.”
Most people just leave me alone.
“Baby Bat.” Sarah peeked over her shoulder as Dick approached and slowly sat on the other side of Tim. “Hi. You already know who I am. I want you to hear this from both of us, okay?” Tim set his hands in his lap and played with the ends of his fingers as he watched customers enter and depart from Batburger. “There won’t ever be a time where we don’t come when you call. Okay? You’re our baby brother.”
“But I’m not a Wayne.”
“You don’t need to be a Wayne, Timmy,” Sarah interjected softly. “We aren’t Waynes. Dick and I were just raised by one. We don’t care. We just want you as Tim.”
Tim didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t need to. Part of his brain was desperately just trying to process the idea of someone wanting him. He’d never wanted to admit it to himself, but there was something deep within him that knew his parents didn’t care about him.
Tim was just too afraid to admit that.
With a gentle run of her fingers along the inside of his forearm, Sarah gently hushed Tim’s noticeable flinch and shiver before asking, “Tim? Would it be okay if Dick and I hugged you? Here’s a secret: Graysons give phenomenal hugs.”
Tim nodded and slowly focused on the warmth and all-encompassing feeling of two pairs of arms wrapping around him and dragging him to the floor of the rooftop. Dick tucked Tim against his front and buried his face in a mass of messy black hair, folding his fingers against Tim’s abdomen and tucking his knees behind Tim’s.
Sarah curled herself inward and moved Tim’s head under her chin, resting her hand on the inside of Tim’s forearm before allowing her eyes to flutter closed. Both siblings tried not to pay attention to the quiet tremble of Tim’s shoulders or how he tightened his grip on the hands he held in his own.
Just three Bats, safe in the shadows of Gotham’s darkness on one of her rooftops.
This made everything that had happened in the last two weeks worth it.
****
Tim had patrol as Robin that night — specifically on comms, as he wasn’t trained enough to be in the field — which was why Sarah had convinced Dick to join her at Bat Burger for dinner before they closed. Alfred would be appalled. She smiled quietly around her French fry and dared to lift her eyes and gaze upon her brother, who was sitting poised in the back booth they were occupying at the door; It was their only exit from the establishment.
Her brother was still thinking about Tim.
“Penny for your thoughts, Dickie?”
“The kid,” Dick said quietly. “He looks too much like Jason did.” Dick’s eyes flashed sympathetically as Sarah winced, desperately trying to cover the mention of the boy she loved with a smile. “Bruce took on another Robin less than a year since his son died, Sarah. The warehouse is quite literally still smoking. Does that not bother you?”
“Of course, it bothers me.” She replied. “But what can I do about it? Bruce has been off the grid since I left the Manor and moved in with you. Alfred has contacted me more than he has, and even that is seldom because he might be the only thing that’s keeping Bruce alive right now. He made it abundantly clear where he stood. We could’ve…” Sarah faltered and tightened her hold on her fork. “We could’ve gotten through this together.”
“Tim is too young to be dealing with Bruce’s grief,” Dick remarked. “And even if he’s not doing this to replace J, because no one can replace J, one of us needs to go talk to him.”
She knew that look. That was the same look Dick used to give her whenever she used to con Bruce into giving her and Dick ice cream before dinner without Alfred’s knowledge. “Me? Why me?”
“I might’ve had a conversation with Bruce at your art show, but that doesn’t mean he and I are entirely on speaking terms yet. Me coming to him to tell him he needs a Robin would just inevitably end in an argument.” Dick dipped his French Fry into his milkshake with a quiet sigh. “I just-I miss our dad, Sarah. I want to help… but I don’t know how.”
“I do.”
“Which is?”
“You weren’t around much for Jason, Big Wing.” Sarah reached across the table to lay her hand on top of his own. “And I know you regret that now but it doesn’t mean you have to repeat the cycle for Tim.”
Dick took a shuddering breath. “Jason didn’t deserve how mad I was at him, at the fact he got Robin. Mama gave me that name. She gave you the name Little Dove because you were so pure and so bright.” Sarah’s eyes widened as she listened to Dick continue, slightly baffled that she couldn’t remember her mother gifted her with that nickname as a child. “I don’t think I can handle losing another baby bat, Sar.” He steeled his jaw and exhaled sharply through his nose with a nod. “Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll do it. For Tim.”
For Tim.
***
One Week Later
Unlike most of the people in her family, Sarah valued the nights when she wasn’t on patrol so she could sleep much more soundly in her empty apartment. Dick spent his nights at the BPD when he wasn’t patrolling as Nightwing with Oracle in his ears, which is exactly what he was doing tonight.
So Sarah was sleeping like a normal human being until her phone rang obnoxiously loud at her bedside.
“I’m going to kill whoever is ruining my beauty sleep-“ She lifted her sleep mask and squinted at the screen. It was the Manor. Again. “Hello? Alf? You should know that I appreciate eight hours of sleep.”
“Sarah,” Tim whispered hurriedly. “Please come to the Manor, B locked himself in the Cave, and Alfred is gone and I can’t get him to come out-“
Sarah’s heart sank as she shot up in bed. He sounded scared. Her baby bat shouldn’t be scared.
The line cut off.
“Timmy?” A pause. “Tim!”
Frick.
She made it to the Manor in record time on Dick’s bike, grimacing as she realized the entrance to the Cave was blocked off or locked - and usually, that was for good reason, but Sarah highly doubted that was the case tonight - so she parked the bike at the base of the stairs and bound up them by two.
Tim threw open the door before she’d even gotten to it. He was pale and hadn’t slept, a shaking hand wrapped around a mug of black coffee and the other anxiously raking through his hair.
“He’s locked himself in the bat cave. I was supposed to run comms tonight for patrol, but then he locked himself and the entrance and I can’t get him to come out-“
“Okay, first things first…” Sarah led Tim back into the Manor and toward the kitchen. “Sit down and give me that coffee. It’s three am, you should be sleeping.”
“But Bruce-“
“Bruce is an adult. He makes his own decisions.” Sarah interjected. “You are far too caffeine dependent for a thirteen-year-old, Timmy.”
Tim looked like he had another argument poised on the tip of his tongue, but a grumpy and stubborn eighteen-year-old female Grayson-Wayne was not the one to argue with. Even if Sarah argued she wasn’t a Wayne, the photos of her and Dick in Bruce’s study would disagree.
Sarah rummaged through the drawer to her right and grinned as she revealed a small cyan-colored notebook, rifling through the pages until she found a code written in sharpie.
“A code?” Tim asked.
“The only override Jason and I made for something like this. Think of it as an in case of emergency override.” Sarah replied. “Because Bruce is abysmal at anything to do with regulating and interpreting emotions, so we’ve been doing it for quite a while. He also has a soft spot for his first daughter.” Slipping her phone from her pocket, Sarah sent one singular text to Dick - who was already on his way to keep a watchful eye on their newest baby bat - before turning toward the hall that would lead her to Bruce’s study. “Tim?”
Tim was too busy staring at the broth she’d heated up for him to eat to catch her eyes. It looked so good, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. This is all my fault if I had just done a better job of watching over Bruce like Alfred asked- “H-Hm?”
“You look like you’ve barely eaten since Alf left. Drink that slow, and don’t touch that coffee again. Big Wing will be here soon to sit with you until I come back up.” She flashed him that award-winning Grayson smile that made him feel warm and safe. "And do not leave this house to follow me into the Cave. Don't do it. You're not particularly good at listening but I'm asking you as your big sister, to stay put."
That was all she said before disappearing down the hall toward Bruce’s study.
This conversation was long overdue.
***
Bruce is bent over the keyboard of the Batcomputer while trying to organize his most recently acquired idea: A video log spanning from the week Jason died to tonight, where he’d been so enveloped in his guilt and his grief that he’d locked his newest Robin out of the Cave to mourn his second Robin - his son, his baby - by falling to his knees in front of the glass case holding his uniform.
The first thing he'd done to prevent Tim from witnessing that was lock the elevator, the tunnel, and the staircase descending from the grandfather clock. He'd then sat himself down with a decanter of whiskey and poured a fingertip's worth every time he finished a video and labeled them with the appropriate date.
182 days. That's how long Jason had been gone.
And it was absolutely eating him alive.
Bruce wanted to be the Batman that Tim so clearly revered. He wanted to let him be his Robin because Tim was so good, and he deserved to have the ability to transform his sharp mind and clear instinct for detective work. He'd seen the files Tim had created while pursuing his photography across the rooftops and alleys of Gotham. Tim had a natural eye for it. For angles, for detail, for seeing the things not everyone else could.
He needed that. Batman needed that in his Robin, but Batman also needed someone who could help keep him human. He was almost positive he'd lost that last piece of humanity when Jason had died.
"You know, I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy to isolate yourself in a deep, dark cave with no one around but the lonely hum of a giant supercomputer." Bruce froze at the female voice echoing from the elevator, silently cursing himself for not because his children might have written overrides. They were smart enough to do it. "I have so many things I want to say to you. Need to say to you. However, because I know you, I'm going to refrain from those briefly to ask one very simple question." Sarah stopped several feet behind the Batcomputer chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where are you?"
What?
The crease in Bruce's brow furrowed, but he didn't turn his chair around to greet his daughter. He curled his fingers into fists at his sides. "That's a ludicrous question to ask, Sarah." He replied. "Do better."
"No, it's a legitimate question that has a purpose. Where are you?"
Bruce is still standing in the ashes of the warehouse in Ethiopia, the weight of his son's body heavy in his arms and his fingers stained with blood. The sun has long since gone down and the sky is illuminated by the amber aura of the flames around him.
Her father falls silent for a moment before whispering, "Ethiopia."
Sarah nodded and began to pace back and forth behind the chair. She wasn't going to press him too hard, otherwise, it would end in an argument and she'd be right back to square one. "Most nights I spend at our new apartment in Blüdhaven are by the window. It was our favorite place to talk late at night after you and Alfred went to sleep." Bruce imagines the scene behind his closed eyes - Jason and Sarah curled up at the ends of the windowsill in his now untouched room, whispering confessions into the dark while following the glowing lights of Gotham's skyline - and listens to her continue, "And most of those nights, in those dreams, I wait for the boy I love to come home." There's a break in her voice as she says, "And he doesn't, Bruce. He doesn't come home and it destroys me every night that I realize I couldn't do anything to save him. But that doesn't mean it's our fault. Jason wouldn't want-"
"How do you know what Jason would want?!"
And now Bruce is up, and he's angry, blue eyes rimmed red and wide as they struggle to focus on her. Sarah remains calm despite this very obvious anger and allows her eyes to slide to the decanter by the Batcomputer. The hypocrite broke his own rule.
"Because I was in love with Jason Todd, B. I loved him from the moment I met him..." She faltered briefly, chewing on her lower lip as she eyed the file VIDEO LOGS: 182 DAYS. in the corner of the screen. "And I think he loved me too."
Sarah has never seen Bruce cry. Not once, not in the time she's known him. Bearing witness to the break of the strongest man she's ever met makes that last little bit of something bright inside of her shrivel up and die.
Nothing is said for a long, long time. Sarah simply waits for Bruce to compose himself, allowing him the ability to grieve in private that he so desperately needs. He's practically a master at hiding how he feels. She can't even tell he's silently sobbing, but something in her just knows.
If his little girl wasn't in the room, no one would be able to hear his gut-wrenching wail, teetering on the edge of a scream as Batman Bruce finally just shatters.
That's not what happens though. What happens now is that Bruce turns around in his chair and finds his daughter just within arms reach, blue eyes soft and gentle as she tilts her head upward to peer up at her father.
They might not share the same last name, but he's every part of her father just as her biological father had once been.
"Dad." She said quietly. "You have a wonderful, sweet, and smart Robin upstairs who doesn't know what love is. He doesn't understand that he's safe inside this house. He doesn't understand that he has value and his life means something because his parents have spent so long saying the opposite. All Timmy wants to do is prove he's got what it takes. He wants to be your Robin... you need to let him. You need to let him."
There were a lot of reasons why Bruce needed to let him. He knew it. He just didn't want to admit it, because admitting it would mean moving on.
His little girl... so smart, and she knew him so well.
"Oh, sweetheart." He said quietly, lifting his hands to rest them against her cheeks. Sarah hadn't even realized she was crying until his thumbs were swiping at the apples of her cheeks and coming away wet. "I already told your brother this: I don't deserve anything the two of you give me. Not after kicking him out, not after abandoning you. I don't deserve-"
"I'm already more than aware you think you don't deserve love, Bruce." She said. "It doesn't matter. You have it. I see it in Alfred every time I watch him talk to you when he comes downstairs in the middle of the night to run comms and somehow still wakes up early enough to make sure you've eaten and are taking care of yourself. I saw it when you came to my art shows and sat front row just to be able to clap louder and smile wider, I saw it whenever Dick won first place at his competitions and always looked for you first whenever he was presented with his medals. You may not deserve our love but you have it. Just like you'll have it with Tim."
"I hate to interrupt this sweet reunion, but you've got a thirteen-year-old upstairs who's this close to having a mental breakdown because he thinks he's the reason Batman locked himself in the Cave." The pair turned around toward the elevator where Dick now stood idly swinging an escrima stick back and forth. He must've come straight from patrol in Blüdhaven. "I'm not letting our baby bat have a breakdown because Bruce decided to brood."
Bruce snorted and shook his head. "Chum," He called out. "A moment, please?"
"Oh, of course -- Don't let me ruin your incoming hug, B!"
There had been a point where Bruce tried to shy away from physical contact. Having two extremely tactile children didn't exactly allow for that, so it had taken him a considerable amount of patience and grace with his babies to accept their hugs.
Their hugs, which were now rare to receive, were now some of his favorite things in the world.
Sarah pressed her face into Bruce's chest as he carefully wound his arms around her and buried his face in a mess of dark waves. "I'm proud of you," He said, voice hoarse from crying. "So proud of both of you."
Not the I love you she'd been hoping for, but it's close enough.
"Thanks, B," Sarah said softly, voice muffled by Bruce's shirt as she slowly settled against his body and rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. He chuckled as she yawned and burrowed deeper into his embrace. "It's so cold down here. 'M tired."
Of course, she was. She'd never enjoyed being up this late anyway.
"I think we're all tired. It's been quite a night." He said. "Why don't you and your brother come upstairs to bed? Alfred should be back from the Kents soon. Some sleep should do us all some good."
Dick's eyes widened. Whether or not it was from Bruce's offer to stay in the Manor or the fact that Alfred went to visit Uncle Clark, Sarah wasn't sure. She just curled against Bruce's chest as he swept her into his arms.
"Are you sure? I can take care of Tim and just-"
"Dick," Bruce said firmly. "I'm sure. My bed is large enough. C'mon."
They find themselves in Bruce's California King bed less than thirty minutes later, quietly ushering Tim through the door and onto the side of the bed that Bruce isn't occupying. With Bruce already lounging under the sheets, Sarah curled up in the middle and gently tugged Tim in between herself and Dick on the far side of the bed.
Tim sighed quietly as Dick wound his arms around their little brother, tucking his head under his chin before settling down. Dick's eyes met Sarah's through the dark as he murmured G'night Little Bird before he slowly and surely settled as well.
Sarah hadn't even realized Bruce was running his fingers through her hair before she too was drifting off.
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
She was asleep long before a response could be formed.
Bruce's phone idly glowed with a missed notification not long after they'd fallen asleep: A Gotham News notification about an urgent update of a plane crash that had occurred on a flight coming back to Gotham from Turkey.
There had been multiple deaths, but the media was focusing on two specifically.
CEOs of Drake Industries, Jack and Janet Drake, were found dead in a plane crash from Turkey to Gotham early this morning. They leave behind one living son.