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Damian Wayne was born into the world as a public figure. Bastard child to playboy Bruce Wayne and a mysterious unnamed mother, the media was desperate to tear Damian apart from day one. The paparazzi could be as ruthless as his grandfather’s assassins. And that was the other host of Damian’s problems: Talia Al Ghul did not willingly give up her first born. Had she gotten her way, Damian would have continued to be trained into a ruthless killer bound to her whims before she released him upon Gotham herself. The fact that Bruce swooped in and got custody first was a matter of bruised pride, and often Damian lay awake wondering how low his mother would stoop to try and get him back in her clutches.
Which all that is to say, Damian had good reason to be suspicious of the small child that had begun following him and Father around on patrol. Damian had pointed out the interloper a few nights prior. Batman didn’t do anything so foolish as to write off Damian’s concerns; after all, they were partners. Batman trusted Robin’s intuition. They kept each other safe in the field. But it was clear that Batman was also not taking their newest threat seriously enough.
It all came to a head a few days later, at Gotham Academy of all places. Damian wasn’t aware anything remotely relevant to vigilante work could take place within these disgustingly pristine halls. Indeed, Damian had resigned himself to another day of dealing with tedious peons when all of a sudden one such unremarkable young boy approached him. The boy was carrying a folder which was clutched preciously to his chest, fiddling nervously with the edge.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?” He asked bluntly. Alfred would be disappointed, but he didn’t just have to deal with a class of self entitled seniors all jerking each other off to their surface level interpretations of Wuthering Heights.
The boy flinched. “Um, I…” He glanced around, seeming to take in the handful of students also milling about in the hallway. Confirming eye witnesses, perhaps? “Can we talk somewhere private?”
Damian blinked, hiding his surprise behind a perfectly cooled expression. Perhaps this day would hold something vaguely interesting after all. He gestured to a nearby empty restroom, indicating the boy should enter first before closing the door behind them both.
The boy’s eyes glanced around, doing a scan of his own to see that they’re alone. Damian huffed, hating the jab at his own observational skills. “There’s no one here. Now out with it.”
The little freshman jumped, acting quite spooked as he got closer to Damian. “I… um…” His voice dropped to a whisper, so quiet that even face to face Damian could scarcely make out the words. “I know you’re Robin.”
For all his training, Damian’s mind whirred like a stalling computer trying to figure out what to possibly respond to the world’s weakest threat attempt. “What.” He said, if only to give himself more time.
“I know you’re Robin.” The boy repeated, and though he was trembling he clearly took the utmost care to keep direct eye contact with Damian and prove he was 100% serious. “And I know who Batman is, too.”
“Oh, do you?” At the mention of his father, Damian snapped into action, grabbing the boy by the front of his shirt with practiced ease before slamming the little body against the wall. The boy gasped, all breath knocked out of him from the maneuver. How he longed for a knife to hold against the kid’s throat to really send the threat home that Damian was the one in charge here, but he settled for pressing his forearm against the younger’s windpipe. “Who sent you?”
“N-no one!” Huge, frightened blue eyes peered up at Damian, but the vigilante knew better than to be fooled by appearances. He had been young and adorable once too. “No one else knows, I swear. I-I didn’t even mean to find out myself, I just-”
“How would a 13 year old child figure out the greatest secret of this century?” Damian hissed. Even his grandfather and mother, with all their great network of shadows, still did not know the elusive identity of the Batman. Their quarrels with Bruce Wayne were too weak to know who they were truly dealing with behind the billionaire mask. “Who are you?”
“Photographs! I mean, Tim! Drake!” ‘Tim’ winced, stuttering through his answers out of order. “I never meant to figure it out, I swear! I take pictures, as a hobby, I’ve been following Batman and Robin for the past year now, it just sort of happened-” He held up the folder in his hands as a peace offering, and Damian snatched it from his hands, stalking over to the other side of the room to frantically look through the contents while Tim sank to the floor with a gasp.
Inside the folder, Damian found hundreds of print outs of photographs depicting Batman and Robin in various setups. The work was admittedly skilled, but it was hard for Damian to pay attention to artistic touches at a time like this.
“I’ve been following you both for a while.” Tim explained, his voice almost a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to figure out anything, I swear I wasn’t, it was just that you were both such brilliant subjects. I just wanted to take pictures. But then I started noticing that you weren’t there sometimes, well I mean Robin wasn’t, and not just during school days so I knew it was that you must be out of Gotham, and those were the times you were with your mother, right? And of course Batman I figured out first, so that made it easier, I mean who else has enough funds and tech to supply Batman, but it’s not like Batman would be a charity case so he must-”
“Stop talking.” Damian rasped, unable to hear Tim tear his life apart so easily anymore. Tim dutifully shut his mouth instantly.
Now Damian had to consider his options carefully. Father had always been very clear about his ‘no killing’ rule, and even in his paranoia Damian knew he couldn’t just murder a child in cold blood- at a school, no less. Still, having a loose end out and about would be troublesome; Damian hated the idea of some civilian wandering around Gotham with his secret identity stored in that little brain. The vulnerability of it all made Damian sick. Since getting rid of Tim Drake was not a viable option, Damian would have to resort to keeping an eye on Tim himself and ensuring the secret stayed intact.
Damian rounded back on Tim, the younger boy hastily getting to his feet in the face of Damian’s wrath. Good; he should be afraid. “You will tell no one.” Damian hissed, keeping the folder now well out of reach. “I will be watching you. If I catch even a breath of your betrayal-”
“I won’t!” Tim assured him, and honestly the boy looked close to sobbing. “I swear, I won’t. I didn’t even want to know in the first place, but it felt dishonest not to tell you, I’m so sorry Damian. I promise I won’t tell a soul.”
Honestly, looking down at this trembling frame, it was hard to have faith in Tim’s promise. The boy was so easily broken by a pathetic threatening display on Damian’s part that Damian could only imagine Tim caving immediately to even just a stern talking to from a real foe like the Joker.
“Good.” Damian said, not feeling like it was ‘good’ at all but knowing he had to make it to PreCalc before the final bell rang. “I’ll be watching to make sure you stick to your word.” And with that, Damian tore out of there and tried desperately to recompose his cool face of everything-is-normal-and-i-am-bored .
Of course, the first thing Damian did when he got home after school that day was rush down to the batcave and begin a full background check on Timothy Drake. He was born to Janet and Jack Drake, and was currently 13 years old. He was indeed a Freshman at Gotham Academy and had attended similarly priced private schools in his elementary education as well. He was apparently Damian’s “neighbor”, which meant Drake Manor was the closest rich estate and a few miles away. Earlier this year Tim was spotted with his parents attending a Wayne Foundation charity ball of all things.
And outside of that… Damian was hard pressed to find any evidence Timothy Drake actually existed. He could find plenty of articles about Janet and Jack Drake; apparently they were semi-famous archeologists and had built most of their fortune on selling artifacts they looted from less developed countries to museums. Janet was also fairly prolific in the art trade, which didn’t bode well for the cleanliness of their fortune. Damian found plenty of dirt that, used properly by a prolific team of well-funded lawyers, could certainly make the Drakes lose everything. Helpful, at least, to have a true threat to hold over Tim’s head if he seemed to get more loose-lipped over time. (The Bat Computer was filled with similar secrets that were held as contingency plans against most of the fat cat crooks that wanted Gotham in their pocket.)
But the lack of any sort of record on Timothy Drake was borderline concerning, to the point where if Damian hadn’t unearthed Tim’s birth certificate himself he would have guessed Tim had been adopted in the past year. It was as though he had been born, sent off to school, and only welcomed into the outside world once he was of an age his parents deemed it appropriate to give Tim a public debut. Taking a look at their flight records, Janet and Jack were often jetting out of the country to new dig sites with only two seats booked. How often had this kid even seen his own parents?
“Spying on the neighbors?” Bruce rumbled, having snuck up behind Damian and taking a look at the screen. The fact that Damian hadn’t noticed his entrance was sloppy, and a clear indication he was getting too invested in this investigation. “Seems a bit paranoid.”
“I learned from the best.” Damian turned to face him. “Tim Drake learned our identities.”
Bruce reacted just the same as Damian had; you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind as he slowly blinked down at his son. “What.”
In response, Damian tossed the folder of pictures onto the table to his right. Bruce began to look through the contents as Damian explained. “He’s the one who’s been stalking us on patrol. Tim says he took all these himself, figured out our identities, and has told no one. He confronted me today between classes with this information.”
Bruce, honestly, was taking having his whole world torn apart by a single child like a champ. He let out a ‘hmm’, continuing to flip through the photographs. “What was your impression of him?”
“I think he’s telling the truth, or if he’s got a backer I haven’t unearthed them.” Damian gestured to the computer, looking back at the screen. “Seems as though the child has been living alone most of his life, albeit in luxury. No idea what compelled him to begin sneaking out to photograph vigilantes.”
Out of all the things Damian expected from this talk, it was not for Bruce to chuckle. Damian turned his head sharply to face Bruce again. “What’s so funny, Father?”
“I’ve been done in by a child.” Bruce set the photographs back into the folder. “I’m losing my touch.”
“Father, this is a serious security breach! The future of Batman is at stake! Have you no pride for your mission?” Damian hissed, standing up to face his father with full fury.
Bruce looked at him with those calculating detective eyes that could always tear Damian apart. Bruce tilted his head, considering. “And what would you have me do about this?”
Damian paused. “I… we have to keep an eye on him.” Damian glanced between the computer screen and his Father. “He is a vulnerability we cannot afford, but we do not kill. Torture is ineffective for keeping mouths quiet, not to mention ethically inadvisable. Minors cannot sign legal documents and the thought of recording our secrets in ink is ludicrous regardless. The only viable option is using surveillance to ensure Tim stays out of the hands of those who wish us harm and would benefit from that information.”
Bruce nodded along, agreeing silently with all Damian said. He gave his son a small, soft smile. “I agree. That’s why I’m glad you’re already on the case.”
Damian paused, realizing how much effort he had put into this already. He might know more about Timothy Drake than his own parents.
“You should invite your new friend to dinner.” Bruce offered. “I’d love to meet the boy who’s unmasked me.”
“He’s hardly a friend.” Damian scoffed. “An acquaintance at best.”
Bruce hummed, looking up at the screen with countless tabs on Tim pulled up. He clicked on one where Damian had already been taking notes on the best ways to check in on Tim’s home life- or rather, the lack thereof. “Yes, it’s clear you have no attachment to this child.”
Damian gawked. “I- father-! ”
Father outright laughed in a way that was all Brucie, which was always disconcerting when Bruce was halfway into the suit. He patted Damian on the shoulder. “Go suit up. Perhaps we’ll see your new friend on patrol.”
Damian grumbled, but he slunk into the locker room to get equipped for the mission. Unfortunately, Father was once again correct to trust in Damian’s commitment to his duty. Considering Damian was the one initially presented with this information he felt a certain level of responsibility to Tim already. Damian knew even if Bruce had taken on the task of surveillance himself, Damian would have been right there with him; at least this way Batman could stay focused on the true threats of Gotham while Damian played sitter to their little baby stalker.
And sure enough, now that Damian was looking for him it was easy enough to spot Tim trailing along after him as Damian began his solo loop through Crime Alley. Damian frowned down at Tim, knowing this was no place for a spoiled rich child to be walking alone at night, with an expensive camera of all things clutched in his hands. Damian put two fingers to his eyes and made a motion meaning ‘ i’m watching you’.
Tim, in all his stupidity, just gave a shy little wave back. The ridiculousness of it all was palpable.
Still, even being very aware of his little follower, Robin was able to keep to his duties with ease. He was surprised how easily Tim kept up as well. Every time Robin turned back to check Tim hadn’t gone and died in an alley on him, the boy was already in the adjacent street, safely tucked into the shadows and clicking away on his camera.
Of course, the peace of the night could not last. Robin was called away to take care of a few various threats to the people of Gotham, and Batman commed in to ask Robin to get a birds eye view of a hostage situation over on the docks. By the time Robin was swinging back to his usual route, it took several minutes for him to find Tim again.
Normally cool under pressure, Robin found his blood pressure rising at the thought of Tim getting kidnapped so soon into Robin’s protection, and it certainly didn’t help matters when he finally found Tim the young teen was cornered by two men with knives. Damian swung onto the scene, landing expertly between Tim and danger while drawing his sword with practiced ease.
“Gentlemen.” Damian spoke, his voice barely containing his righteous fury. “It seems you were about to throw a party without me.”
“Oy, c’mon.” The first mugger scoffed. “Hardly a party, ain’t it? Kid should know better than to wander onto our turf. We weren’t gonna hurt ‘em, just asking for a little collateral, yeah?”
“You can’t have my camera.” Tim said hastily, clutching the camera preciously to his chest. Damian wanted to roll his eyes at the boy’s foolishness; wasn’t his life worth more than a trinket?
“You heard the kid, the camera’s not for sale.” Damian flicked his wrist, and with two twin cries the would-be muggers found themselves disarmed, knives clinking to the dirty alley floor after Damian expertly slashed at their hands. “So what’s it going to be? Are you so passionate about photography you’d like to risk your lives? I’m certainly in a dancing mood.” Damian danced his sword about, just showing off now. These criminals were truly pathetic. A true rogue wouldn’t run like the devil was on his heels just because Damian let the blade skirt along their necks. But that’s just what these villains did, abandoning their weapons and making a run for it.
“...Robin doesn’t kill.” Tim pointed out, looking at Damian a bit warily.
“Perhaps he doesn’t.” Damian rounded on him instead, returning the sword to its sheath. “Not so easy to remember with a sword to the throat. Now what the hell were you thinking? Don’t you know it’s best to give a mugger what they want?”
“I-I know!” Tim’s ears were turning red, a true sign of the adolescent’s embarrassment. “It’s just… I… this is my vigilante camera.” Tim looked up at Damian, shifting from foot to foot. “Wouldn’t you have been mad at me if I lost it?”
Damian paused, processing this. “You risked getting stabbed because you didn’t want to upset me?”
Tim shrugged, eying Damian’s sword again. “To be fair, you stab people when you’re upset.”
Oh, Christ. Damian took a deep breath, rubbing his gloved hands down his face. “...I’m not going to stab you.” Damian said once he trusted his voice to be steady. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Tim squinted at him, like a little baby Bruce trying to detective his way to answers. Considering how quickly Tim figured out their secret identities, it wasn’t a stretch. “...Because I’d spill your secret?”
“Because Robin protects people who need it.” Robin crossed his arms. “How often are your parents home?”
“Often enough.” Tim answered too quickly to not be rehearsed. “Why do you care?”
“Why are you covering for them?”
“I’m not.” Tim crossed his own arms, mimicking Damian. “They don’t know about your identity. And I won’t tell them.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
Damian paused, looking Tim carefully up and down. His survival instincts were terrible, but Damian had to admit when it came to tenacity he had underestimated him. Tim was clearly devoted to keeping their secrets to the point of personal threat. He took to Gotham’s underbelly like a duck to water, and given how long he had followed Batman without gaining notice proved he could be quite a valuable sneak. Tim was clearly wasted on the Drakes.
“You should come to dinner.” Damian blurted, suddenly remembering Bruce’s offer. Whether it was in jest or not, Damian realized the invitation would be strategic. It would do Tim well to be in Wayne Manor. It was the safest location in Gotham.
Tim’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I- uh, I don’t have a ride.”
“How did you get here?” Damian countered.
“The bus; it doesn’t exactly stop at, y’know, your house.” Tim pointed out, as if it were obvious. Which it would be, if Damian hadn’t thought public transportation would be beneath a child of Tim’s upbringing. It was foolish to keep underestimating him.
It was also worrying that a family as wealthy as the Drakes did not employ a driver who could take Tim over to Wayne manor. What if Tim injured himself at home? Would there be no one around to take him to the hospital? Was anyone even present in the home to recognize he would need medical attention?
“You’re coming to dinner.” Damian corrected, no longer making it a request. “Alfred will come pick you up tomorrow at 5:00pm.”
“You don’t even know if I’m free.” Tim argued.
“You are; stop fighting me, I know your schedule.” Damian insisted.
Tim squinted again. “Is this all code for I’m going to be kidnapped and kept in the Bat Cave?”
Of course Tim knew about the Bat Cave. At this point, nothing would surprise Damian. “It’s not kidnapping. Think of it as adoption.”
“Wha-? I have parents!” Tim argued, flailing his hands about as if that would help his argument. Damian was done listening at this point though. He pulled out a grappling hook, shooting it to swing up onto a nearby roof. He watched patiently as Tim glared up at him for a while before walking down to the nearest bus stop. Damian kept a watchful eye on him the whole way home, already anticipating Tim spending many dinners at Wayne Manor.
