Chapter Text
The first winter at the manor is a hectic one. Winter atop Mt. Gotham had always been bleak, burying the world in a sheet of white snow that stayed until springtime. This year, the snow seemed the least of Bruce’s worries.
Bruce had never had to watch over a child before, let alone four— all rambunctious, curious, and so full of energy. Dick and Jason were the worst of the bunch. Both boys loved the outdoors and found every excuse in the book to keep Bruce moving. Tim and Damian were less rowdy, though Bruce didn’t doubt the two would likely grow to be just as energetic.
Bruce found himself spending a lot of time out in the snow and the forest, just trying to get the boys to move and wear themselves out.
Gods— was he like this as a child?
When they weren’t running around outside, the four boys were chasing each other around the manor or rolling around the training area of the cave.
There was so much going on that it took Bruce a while to realize that something was wrong.
Dick was the first.
It was the same night that Alfred gave them their cloaks. The boys had tuckered themselves out early, and Bruce sent them to bed after an early dinner.
Bruce was in his study when he heard light footsteps creaking down the hallway towards the kitchen.
Hn. That was odd.
He set down the scrolls he’d been reading and glanced out the cracked doorway, “Alfred? Everything alright?”
He got nothing but silence in response. Bruce moved to stand, reaching for a dagger in his desk when a small hand wraps around the edge of the door, opening it a crack to reveal a messy head of black hair.
Bruce’s shoulders relaxed and he sent the boy a soft smile, “Hello, Dick. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, lad?”
Dick entered the study fully, shuffling his feet nervously, “I— couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to wake them. Thought I’d grab something from the kitchen to help me sleep.”
Bruce didn’t miss how Dick’s eyes were rimmed red as if he’d been crying, “What’s wrong, chum?”
Dick’s eyes went wide, “Nothing––! N–nothing’s wrong… I just–– I just can’t sleep is all.”
“Hn.”
Bruce stood and moved around his desk, scooping up Dick before the boy can protest, and carrying him out of the room.
“B?! Put me down! I’m heavy!”
Bruce huffs. It’s true, Dick was bigger than all of his brothers, but he was still small and still very much a child, “Not to me, lad.”
Dick clung to him as they made their way to the kitchen. Bruce held onto him even as he made some warm cocoa for the two of them. He carried the mugs in one hand and deposited Dick on the couch in the den before handing him his mug.
They drank their cocoa in silence, staring into the flickering firelight of the fireplace. Bruce wanted to ask why Dick was so upset, but he doesn’t want to press the issue when Dick clearly didn’t want to talk about it. So he sat with the boy, tucking a blanket around him as they sip their cocoa.
It was quiet between them for a while. Dick was the first to break the silence.
“I have nightmares–– not that bad! It’s nothing to worry about. But it’s always the same one, and it makes it hard to go back to sleep…” Dick stared pointedly into his mug.
“Hn,” Bruce sipped at his cocoa as he racked his brain for what to say.
What would Alfred say?
“Nightmares are perfectly normal, chum. Especially after everything you’ve been through. I have nightmares too.”
Dick looked up at him with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Do they–– do they gp away?”
Bruce paused, “No… But they don’t come as frequently, and you learn to better weather the storm.”
Bruce saw the tears before he registered the boy was crying, reaching out to gently pull Dick into a hug.
Dick clung to him and pressed his face into his side, “I wish they would stop, B–– hic –– I wish I could forget–– hic ”
“Shhhhh, it’s ok sweetheart,” Bruce pulled Dick fully into his arm, gently running a hand through his hair, “I’ll help keep the nightmares away.”
Dick’s sobs eventually petered out, and his breathing evened. Bruce carried Dick back upstairs after the boy fell asleep in his arms.
Bruce found Damian in the library. There was a strange melancholy air around the small boy as he sat on the windowsill. Bruce stood in the doorway as the boy stared out an open window, seemingly uncaring for the cold breeze that was cutting across his face as he whistled into the air.
Bruce watched as Damian scanned the sky and let out a series of sharp whistles that mirrored the chirping of birds.
Damian turned to look at him before Bruce could even make his presence known.
“The birds… why do they leave?” There was a sad glean to the boy’s usually neutral expression.
Bruce walked across the room and looked out the window and up at the sky, “I’m not certain, lad. Some birds fly south for the winter, and others roost. But they’ll be back before the first bloom.”
“I know…,” Damian’s hands fidgeted with the edge of his cloak, but he didn’t speak further.
“Hn.”
Bruce turned and moved to a nearby bookshelf, running his fingers along the many spines until he found what he was searching for. It was an old book, one he’d been gifted when he was much much younger. It was a series of etchings, bound together in a volume of sorts. Each page depicted a different kind of bird, and along with it, a short description.
Perfect.
“Here, chum. Something to tide you over until the bloom.”
Damian glanced at the book before tentatively taking it from Bruce’s hand.
He flipped it open gently, eyes widening with the turn of each page. His gaze snapped back up to Bruce, and for a moment, Bruce could have sworn he almost caught a smile.
“Thank you…”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Bruce was caught off guard the first time Jason flinched away from him.
They were in the cave, Jason sat on the table behind him, watching as Bruce ran a series of chemicals and elixirs through an apparatus.
Bruce had turned around to grab a vial from the table behind him when Jason flinched back at the sudden motion—
His eyes blew wide when he realized what he’d done, and he stared up at Bruce. Bruce could only stand there in a daze as realization flooded through him.
An embarrassed flush ran to Jason’s cheeks as he hopped off the table, “M’ sorry, B. That— it’s not yer fault— Sorry, I’ll go—"
“No, Jaylad—" Bruce resisted the urge to gently grab the boy's arm, unsure of how to reassure him. But Jason stopped at his words, pausing to look up at him.
Bruce knelt down, but made no move toward Jason, “Jason… It’s not your fault, you shouldn’t apologize for an involuntary response. I apologize for startling you.”
Jason stared at him, processing his words before his face settled into something softer than a scowl, “I know you’d never hurt me, B. I— I don’t know why it happens…”
“Someone hurt you, Jace. And none of that is your fault. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. You are safe here. I’m sorry I startled you, and I promise to be more careful. Ok?”
Jason seemed to stare through him but still gave a soft nod in return.
Bruce sighed and stood slowly, “You can stay if you’d like, lad. I’m almost done breaking down this compound. There’ll be a pretty cool color change if you’d like to watch.”
Jason’s eyes lit up a fraction at that and he jumped back up on the table, next to Bruce this time.
Bruce smiled as the boy watched in awe as the compound in the vile changed from a deep green to a vibrant red.
Tim was like a shadow.
Silent and unassuming, he had the ability to sneak up on Bruce himself when the kid caught him off guard. Tim would slink into the darkness when he didn’t want to be found, a skill that had taken Bruce himself years to master, and the kid was a natural.
When Tim was with his brothers, he was bright and charming, always laughing or shrugging one of them off of his smaller frame— it was hard to catch him alone.
When Bruce did catch glimpses of Tim by himself, he seemed… distant. He’d seen it on one other occasion since their trek up Mount Gotham and their arrival at the manor. He’d caught Tim staring listlessly out an upstairs window as the snow began to fall.
But more often than not, it was hard to find one of the boys on their own. They were constantly tackling and tickling one another, making sure the others had eaten, Jason would shove a hot drink into Tim’s hands, Dick would wrap Damian in a warm blanket, and Bruce or Alfred would read to them by the fire. They were hardly ever left alone.
The second time Bruce caught Tim staring blankly at the kitchen floor, thought there might be a pattern.
“Alfred, have you noticed anything strange going on with Tim?”
Alfred stood next to him, dutifully washing dishes as the boys ran around upstairs before bed. The older man frowned, “No, Sir. There is nothing magically ailing him. Is he unwell?”
Bruce shook his head, “I’m not sure… He had an episode in the study not long after we first arrived, but this is… different somehow.”
“How so, Sir?”
“His panic episode was very visceral. This is more dissociative. Like he’s somewhere else entirely.”
Alfred’s brows pinched with concern, “I’ll be sure to check up on him, and ensure that there is no lingering magic that went unnoticed.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
It came to a head when Bruce found Tim alone, curled up in the den only two weeks after the first frost. The boy was curled up on the floor, staring out the window as the snow fell, the first true snow of the season.
If Tim was ghostlike before, he was even more so now. His skin was pale, his eyes vacant, his face hollow, and unresponsive. It was like the boy wasn’t even there.
Bruce walked over, stepping loudly to make his presence known, but Tim didn’t stir from his place on the floor.
He crouched beside the small boy and reached out a tentative hand, resting it gently on Tim’s shoulder. Still no reaction.
“Tim? Lad?” Bruce shook him gently, but the vacant look didn’t leave his expression.
He tried to stamp out the panic that welled in his chest. Tim was breathing. He just had to snap him out of whatever state he was in. How had he seen Dick comfort Tim before?
Bruce shot up and scanned the room for a blanket, finding a warm woolen one with a fur lining. He lifted Tim gently, swaddling him in the blanket before depositing him on the couch. He threw two more logs into the den fireplace for good measure
Eventually, some of the color returned to Tim’s face, but his gaze was still far away. However, this time when Bruce approached, Tim’s vacant eyes tracked his movement around the room.
Bruce knelt in front of Tim, “Tim? Sweetheart?”
Tim’s eyes languidly slid to meet Bruce’s own, but there was still no recognition in his expression.
“Where are you, Tim? Where did you go?”
Bruce reached out to caress the boy's face, pulling back suddenly when Tim flinched violently away from the touch. Bruce stared, eyes wide, as Tim’s body began to shake.
“P-please don’t— I didn’t— I swear I didn’t— do anything.”
“Tim? Sweetheart, you’re ok. You’re safe—"
“No— no please— I— don’t put me back—"
Bruce stayed kneeling over the small boy's frame, hands hovering, unsure of what to do to help as Tim saw things that he couldn’t.
“Please don’t put me back in there— it’s cold— I’ll die— Please—"
A sob ripped itself free from Tim’s throat and he audibly tried to strangle it into submission.
Bruce felt a cold chill pierce through his heart. That was enough.
He scooped Tim up into his arms, wrapping the blanket tightly around the boy before moving to sit by the fire.
He cradled Tim in his arms, rocking him gently, “Shhhhh. It’s ok Tim. You’re at the manor. You’re home. You’re safe. I’m here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Tim curled into his chest as shivers wracked his body. Bruce ran a tentative hand through his hair, ensuring the boy wouldn't flinch at the touch while Bruce whispered reassurances.
This episode was not unlike the one Tim had in the study, and based on the words the boy spewed, Bruce had made a few assumptions that drove the icy dagger deeper into his heart.
He’d done some research into Tim’s past, though the trail was more or less cold. He was certain now that if he ever found the bastards that had raised Tim, he’d bring them swiftly to justice.
“B? What’s going on?”
Bruce glanced over his shoulder to see Dick had wandered into the den. He gestured for Dick to join him, and the boy sucked in a breath at the sight of his younger brother.
Dick was beside him in an instant, “Hey, Timmy. Can you hear me?”
Tim stirred at the sound of Dick's voice— a marked improvement from before.
Dick shot to his feet, “I’m gonna ask Alfie to make some warm tea. Keep talking to him, B.”
Bruce watched as Dick ran out of the room before turning back to the boy in his arms.
What could he talk about? Tim was a curious boy, he liked puzzles and mysteries and the books that Bruce gave him. He was curious enough to find the cave early on in his stay.
“Hey, Tim? Did you know it took me years to design that secret entrance in my study? And yet, you were able to find it in a matter of days,” Bruce chuckled, “I was surprised at the time, but now I’m sure you would’ve found it eventually.”
Tim stirred and he looked up at Bruce.
“You know, that cloak Alfred gave you is very similar to the one I first had. Disappearing was something I often did after my parents— well when I was alone. Alfred would worry, but I never really broke the habit,” Bruce smoothed Tim’s messy locks out of his eyes, “You’re a natural at it. It’s quite amazing. Even without the cloak. Gods, I hope you know just how smart and talented you are, lad.”
Tim’s eyes didn’t leave him, and the corner of his mouth twitched, opening slightly, almost as if to say something, but no sounds left him.
Dick came back into the room with a steaming mug of tea, followed by a concerned Alfred and Jason.
Jason knelt beside Bruce and ran a hand through his brother's hair. Tim leaned into the contact, “Oi, Timbits. Come back to us, ya hear? Or I’m gonna haveta' tickle the ‘ell outta ya,”
The frosted look in Tim’s eyes started to fade, and he began to glance around the room with a look of mild confusion before recognition began to register on his face.
Dick’s shoulders sagged with relief.
Bruce pulled Tim into a sitting position and Dick handed the boy the mug of tea.
“Tim? Can you hear me?”
Tim nodded weakly and brought the mug to his lips.
He stared out for a moment before handing the mug back to Dick. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes before leaning against Bruce’s chest, “Whr’ m’ I?”
“We’re in the den, Sweetheart. Your brothers are here with us.”
Tim nodded, pressing his face further into Bruce’s chest, “I’m… sleepy. Cn’ we go to bed?”
“Of course, chum. Let’s get you to bed,” Bruce stood, scooping the small boy up with ease and moving to the stairs. Dick and Jason followed behind him as he deposited Tim onto the bed, a sleeping Damian already awaiting them, yawning as he scooted aside to make room for his brothers.
Bruce pressed his hand to Tim's forehead: no fever. Good. He placed a gentle kiss on Tim’s forehead before standing to tuck the boy under the warm covers.
Jason immediately crawled into the bed, curling around his younger brother. Dick hung back by the doorway, shuffling his feet anxiously.
Bruce moved out of the room after Dick, quietly closing the door behind them.
“It’s the cold,” Dick was still fidgeting, avoiding Bruce’s gaze as he spoke, “I don’t know why, but he gets like this whenever it snows. We don’t know why— I mean I can guess why, but we don’t know for sure. He never remembers anything from these episodes… But he’s gotten much better! This is the first bad episode he’s had in almost a year. His first year with us was bad, but he’s gotten so much better since then.”
Dicks hands fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves. Bruce knelt down and grabbed his hands with his own. He hasn’t realized that Dick was trembling.
“Thank you for telling me, Dick. Trauma responses differ from person to person, but I think having you all as his brothers seems to be improving his condition. I don’t know the cause, but I promise you that we will help him as much as we can. Ok, lad?”
Dick nodded, gaze finally meeting Bruce’s own, “Ok. Thanks, B.”
Bruce took Tim to the cave for a check-up the next day. It had taken nearly the full day for Tim to recover from his episode, repeatedly fading in and out of sleep, but always surrounded by warm blankets and at least one of his brothers.
“Master Tim suffers from repressed memories,” Alfred pulled his glowing hands away from Tim’s sleeping head as the magic faded from his fingertips.
“What does that mean?” Dick shuffled his feet, he had been the only one allowed into the cave for Tim’s check-up. Bruce hadn't wanted any of them present, but Dick had been very insistent, and it was hard to pry all of them from Tim's side. Jason had stayed upstairs with Damian, Bruce didn’t doubt that was due to his lingering discomfort with magic.
“It means, Master Dick, that your brother has some very troubling memories that his brain would rather forget. He has repressed them as a coping mechanism, however, it appears he still retains some triggers.”
Dick stared into the distance at Alfred’s words, “I guess that would explain why he doesn’t remember much before coming to us at the orphanage… So does that mean he— I mean his family, did they— I always thought that might be the case, but I hoped––“
“It’s very likely that has something to do with Tim’s episodes, but we cannot be certain until we know more, lad. Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing, lad.”
Dick’s shoulders sagged and he leaned into Bruce’s side. Bruce placed a gentle arm around him in a way he hoped would be reassuring.
“I haven’t been able to find anything on Tim’s past, but if I uncover anything, I promise justice will be served.”
Dick stared up at him with tears in his eyes, but nodded and wiped them away, “Ok.”
“Does Master Timothy have any triggers we should know of?”
Dick paused, then nodded, “The cold. He always gets kinda distant when it’s cold. Loud noises, but only some noises. Like glass shattering. It happened once at the orphanage when Jason broke a bowl.”
Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line, “It happened once here too. Tim broke a jar in my study and I found him having an episode.”
Dick tensed at that, and Alfred nodded, moving swiftly around the table.
“Very well, Sir. I shall monitor Master Tim’s condition while he is with us at the manor, and I shall add an extra warming rune to his cloak to help stave off the cold. All things considered, he seems fairly well adjusted for his circumstances, and I am glad to hear that he has been improving over time.”
Bruce nodded, gently grabbing Dick’s hand that had been tugging on his cloak and holding it softly, “Thank you, Alfred. I’ll take them back to bed.”
Tim stirred on the examination table and Bruce gently picked him up with his free arm. Tim pressed his cheek against Bruce’s shoulder and slumped against him, low breaths indicated he was still asleep.
He walked them both upstairs and out of the cave, gently depositing Tim on the bed where Jason and Damian were waiting for them. The two boys curled around Tim and Dick joined them soon after crawling into bed.
“How is ‘e?” Jason stared up at him from his spot around his brother.
Bruce ran a hand through Jason’s hair, “He’s ok. Or he will be. For now, the best we can do is give him time and support.”
Jason nodded and closed his eyes, curling further against Tim’s sleeping frame.
Bruce stood and made his way to the door, pausing, “Goodnight, lads.”
“Goodnight, B.”
Bruce closed the door behind him and made his way downstairs to his study. He penned a quick letter to Dr. Thompkins and sent it off with a raven before going to bed himself.