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Tim Drake is definitely too smart for his own good and he can prove that in a plethora of ways.
The first, and most damning, being that he’s been able to outmaneuver and manipulate his parents since he was eight and decided he wanted to follow Batman and Robin through Gotham to take pictures. They’ve always been supportive of him and are excellent business people - quick witted in the boardroom and able to churn out research papers at a prodigious speed - but they don’t have a ton of common sense or exceptional child rearing abilities. Having them think that he’s normal like them, well extra smart but normal, has been extremely helpful when he hacks their home alarms so he can sneak out a few times a week.
He’d probably feel bad about it if it wasn’t such a thrill.
The second would probably be that he also really hasn’t bothered with much of his homework over the past year of school; why do it when he can access all of his teachers' gradebooks online and change his participation and homework grades? He only really needs to pass his in class tests and those are easy for him. It might bite him in the ass one day that he’s never had to study once in his life but it’s working for him now and his parents are so proud of his (faked) straight A’s so who really cares?
But Tim may be flying just a tad too close to the sun with his latest schemes.
You see he’s known that Batman is Bruce Wayne since he was nine (old news really - how the other people in Gotham don’t realize it confounds him; it’s so obvious) and, by extension, he’s known who both Robins are.
Were.
Dick Grayson was just a little bit his hero as a kid and was the main reason he figured out Batman and Robin’s identities but he knew Jason Todd. He went to Gotham Academy with Tim and had been kind the few times they had bumped into each other at Galas and other Events for the Obscenely Rich.
Which is why Tim had been appalled and devastated when he watched his death broadcasted live on Twitch.
“I guess Wayne is a no show again,” Mr. Andrews notes glibly, swirling the bit of whiskey left in his glass.
Tim snapped back into focus at the mention of Bruce, taking a sip of his own sparkling grape juice from a crystal champagne flute, the little piece of metal at the bottom that marked it as non-alcoholic tinkling against the stem as it shifted. His father, nursing his own scotch, hummed in agreement. “Well now Andrews his boy did just die.”
“Of his own stupidity and negligence,” Prescott Belmont insisted, pointing a finger that wobbled due to his drunken state. “I’ll tell you now if I had taken in some little street rat I certainly wouldn’t have left any of my valuables or car keys lying around for the little mongrel. Got what he deserved for stealing a Roll’s I say.”
Tim’s hand tightened around the stem of his glass and he had to force himself to relax so he wouldn’t shatter it. When the story came out that Jason had been involved in a car accident all the busy-body Gotham socialites had assumed that he’d stolen it from Bruce or had taken it on a joy ride. Most of them had never approved of Bruce adopting Jason anyway so they’d been gleeful to say ‘I Told You So’ if only to each other.
He wondered how they’d feel to know Jason had been brutally tortured to death for their viewing pleasure. They would probably still think he deserved it for choosing to be Robin in the first place.
“Now Prescott,” Janet Drake chided, eyes flitting around the room before resting back on the man, “don’t let anyone hear you say that. Who knows when Bruce will return to polite society and you wouldn’t want him to know about it would you?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Belmont slurred, ignoring his wife’s glares and pointed coughs to shut up. “We all warned him about taking in riff-raff didn’t we? Back when he first took in that little circus freak we told him nothing good would come of it but did he listen? And now the older one has run off to Blüdhaven of all places and the younger is dead.”
Andrews hums in agreement. “Did you hear that Grayson didn’t even bother to show up to James’ funeral?”
“It’s Jason,” Tim interrupted, ignoring both of his parent’s surprised looks.
“Beg pardon?” Mr. Andrews asked, looking at Tim like he’d forgotten Tim was even standing there in the first place.
“Mr. Wayne’s son. His name was Jason and he was really nice, you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” Tim said firmly, tone controlled and professional the way his mother had taught him. He’d heard her use the same tone many times when dressing down various board members of Drake Industries.
All the adults around Tim were quietly staring and he realized he’d probably overstepped a little; he almost never spoke at the few galas he went to unless he was answering a direct question. He preferred to listen to all the gossip from the shadows and file it away for later use or potential blackmail. He’s pretty sure most of these rich bastards had never even heard his voice or realized he was standing there with his parents.
Mr. Belmont scowled at Tim and took the rest of the drink in his glass like a shot. “You listen here kid,” he said loudly, “that little brat wasn’t one of us and-”
“I think it’s time we left,” Janet said mildly but firmly, setting her half-empty flute of champagne down on a nearby table. “It is a school night after all and Jack and I have a meeting first thing in the morning with our board of directors that we simply can’t miss.”
“Right you are honey,” Jack agreed quickly, setting his own drink down and putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steer him away. “Nice speaking to you all! I trust we’ll see next month at the golf charity tournament for Gotham General?”
Tim didn’t see or hear any of their answers, too focused on calming himself down as his parents hurried him out of the grand ballroom and into the foyer to retrieve their coats. “What was that all about sport?” Jack asked, looking at Tim with worried and confused eyes. “You never lash out like that.”
“Were you friends with him?” Janet asked, passing their valet ticket off to have the car retrieved.
Tim took a moment to consider his options before deciding on the route that would garner him the most sympathy from his parents while still keeping them from hovering the rest of the night. So, with a realistically fake sniffle, Tim forced his eyes to well with tears. With glee he noted that both of his parent’s looked alarmed when one slipped down his cheek - he wasn’t a crier so this trick always worked well.
“He was really nice to me at school,” Tim mumbled, doing his best not to lay it on too thick. “And he was our neighbor, you know? I’d see him when I was skateboarding sometimes.” Tim absolutely did not see Jason Todd while he was skateboarding - for all that the older boy was athletic as Robin he was an absolute nerd at school and Tim never saw him spending time outdoors at Wayne Manor.
Not that he was spying on them or anything. It was just good research.
“Oh Timothy,” his mother said sadly, pulling him in for a hug and rubbing a soothing hand down his spine. Tim had to fight the urge not to smirk at his victory. “I didn’t realize you two were close.”
“Yeah champ,” his dad agreed, ruffling Tim’s hair. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Tim sniffed again, pulling back to dry his eyes with the handkerchief his father offered. “I mean we weren’t that close,” Tim said, “but I knew him. He went to school with me and sat at the next lunch table and everything.”
Lies again, Jason always ate lunch in the library or his English class room. He didn’t have a lot of friends at Gotham Academy and hadn’t made much effort to make them. Tim could relate - he only really had Bernard and Sebastian.
Janet combed his hair back into place and took the handkerchief to carefully help dry Tim’s face before she steered him out the door and into their car. “It’s a little late for it tonight but how about we go out to dinner this Friday? We can go to that little Italian place you love?” Janet offered once they were all in the car, looking at Tim in the rearview mirror.
“That sounds nice,” Tim agreed, already mentally rearranging his schedule to accommodate it. “I feel bad asking but can I maybe stay home from school tomorrow?” He asked, sniffling again for effect. “I understand if I can’t I just really want a day to myself you know?”
Jack and Janet shared a look and Tim crossed his fingers under his leg, blowing his nose loudly into the handkerchief and then wiping his eyes with the clean bit. “Sure champ,” his dad finally agreed. “We’ll be in the office until late but we can come home early if you need us.”
“Thanks dad,” Tim said with a watery smile, mentally fist pumping.
He had a lot of research he needed to do. A plan was forming in his head, one that would definitely get him in trouble but one that thrilled him nonetheless.
‘Batman needs a Robin.’
Just over a month later found Tim’s parents on a quick two week trip to Bolivia and Tim standing outside of Nightwing’s empty Blüdhaven apartment.
“He’s not here,” one of the neighbors told him after he had stood there for at least five minutes, sizing Tim up distrustfully.
“Oh,” Tim said quietly. “He asked me to meet him today. I’m Tim,” he said, smiling and offering a hand for the older woman to shake. “Dick’s supposed to be tutoring me in math - I’m failing calculus and he was such a math whiz in school and my dad asked his dad and, well anyway he said to stop by today and he’d help me.” Tim rubbed the back of his head and blushed, doing his best innocent act. “I’m so sorry if I disturbed you ma’am.”
“Oh not at all,” she tittered, charmed as she shook Tim’s hand. “He must have forgotten! Such a sweet boy but a little scatterbrained.”
“I’ve always looked up to him,” Tim admitted and it was, technically, true; even if it was Robin and then Nightwing he looked up to more than Dick Grayson. “It’s kind of an honor that he’s even willing to tutor me!” Okay, maybe that was laying it on a little too thick but it seemed to be working. “Do you know where I can find him maybe?”
She gave him a shrewd look and Tim tried his best to look earnest, gripping the straps of his backpack tight and pleading with his eyes. “Well you seem like a good boy so I suppose I’ll tell you. Awfully rude of Grayson to leave you hanging anyway,” she said sympathetically. “He told me yesterday that his old circus was going to be in town through the week and he wanted to go visit. I’d bet you anything he’s there.”
“Thank you so much ma’am!” Tim said politely, backing away. “I really appreciate everything!”
And one cab ride, a captured circus performer and an envelope of blackmail later, Tim had Dick’s undivided attention.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
“How the hell did you get these,” Dick asked, stuck somewhere between righteously angry and bewildered.
Tim chose to ignore that because there was no way he was telling Nightwing that he’d been stalking them for actual years without them figuring it out. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you know that he hasn’t been the same since Jason died.”
“You know about Jason?” Dick asked faintly and Tim really didn’t have time for this.
“Yes,” he said with an eye roll. “Just like I know you’re Nightwing now but you were the first Robin and just like I know that Bruce Wayne is Batman,” he pulled the pictures back out of Dick’s slack fingers to cram back in the folder and away from prying eyes. “When Jason died Bruce Wayne went to pieces. Can’t you see that he needs a Robin? Batman needs to remember who he used to be before his parents died. I don’t know what happened between you and Bruce but you mean something to him - this is your chance to pay him back for raising you all those years.”
Dick considered him for a moment. “Those pictures… Two-Face is back in town?”
“Picked up on that huh?” Tim asked, motioning to his bag. Two-Face was barely in one of the photos and it wasn’t well lit or obvious; Nightwing was just as clever as Tim thought he would be. “Yeah he’s back and Bruce isn’t handling it well.”
“...Fine,” Dick agreed. “I’ll take you back to Gotham and let you meet Bruce but I’m not promising anything and I’m not covering for you when he gets pissed.”
“I can take care of myself,” Tim agreed, putting the folder back in his bag and zipping it up. “I took an Uber here and also I don’t have a license so I’m hoping you drove.”
The older man snorted in surprise and motioned for Tim to follow him. “You’re a little precocious aren’t you?”
“Thanks.”
“It wasn’t a compliment kid.”
Tim shrugged, fiddling with the pen he kept in his pocket. “It wasn’t an insult.”
“You’re bold and at least a little brave but mostly stupid if you think Bruce is going to listen to you,” Dick told him, unlocking the doors to an older model sedan. “He’s more likely to have Martian Manhunter erase your memory.”
“And I have contingencies for that,” Tim shot right back. “You think I was able to figure out all of your identities but I’d be dumb enough to not have a plan for if Batman’s coworker erased my memories? Yeah right.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t introduce the two of you,” Dick muttered low enough that Tim probably shouldn’t have heard it. He chose to let it go and looked out the window in tense silence as they drove the short distance to Bristol, breezing through the security at Wayne Manor and pulling up to the front door. “Try not to antagonize Alfred,” Dick told him, stopping Tim with a hand on his shoulder. “He’s just as likely to lock you up in a containment cell as Bruce and I guarantee that you can’t outsmart him.”
“Noted,” Tim agreed, following Dick up the stairs and waiting a polite step behind him for the door to open.
“Master Dick,” Alfred said, surprise written all over his face. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Dick looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “I wasn’t planning on coming,” he answered tightly, shoulders stiff. “But I need to talk to Bruce. We need to talk to Bruce.”
Alfred’s eyes darted over to sweep over Tim keenly before he stepped back from the door and allowed them into the foyer. “Master Bruce is out for the evening I’m afraid but I don’t believe I caught your name Mr….?”
“I’m Tim Drake,” Tim said, sticking his hand out for Alfred to shake. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Pennyworth. I’m a bit of a fan, you see. As Batman’s confidant for years you must have some stories to tell.”
“I’m sorry but I’m sure I misheard you,” Alfred said, looking a little wrong-footed. “I’m what exactly?”
“He knows Alfred,” Dick sighed. “He ambushed me at Haly’s with pictures of all of us in costume - with and without masks. When he asked to speak to Bruce I figured it was best to indulge him.”
“I won’t take up much of your time,” Tim insisted, looking over the artwork and statues decorating the entrance. “Once I convince Dick to help out Batman I’m gone.”
“Now see here,” Alfred said tightly. “If you’re here for a purpose then state it in full or I’ll be calling your parents to come get you.”
Tim snorted. “They’re in Bolivia in a cellular dead zone so I doubt they’d answer or be able to pick me up.”
“They leave a twelve year old alone?” Dick asked, sounding worried and Tim fought the urge to roll his eyes. He loved his parents but his idea of a good time didn’t include spending weeks in places without wifi or data access. He’d go stir-crazy by day three maximum.
“I’m thirteen. And I can take care of myself.”
Dick and Alfred shared an unreadable look for a moment. “Very well then. Come with me to the kitchen - conversations like this are always better over a cup of tea.”
The grand hallway was just as stunning at the foyer and polished to absolute perfection. The part of Tim that wasn’t trying to plan and scheme his next move was absolutely screaming with glee - he’d dreamed of being in this house, of actually being able to talk to his heroes. Not under these circumstances but it was still mind boggling. The kitchen was just as beautiful as the rest of the house - clearly redone to be more modern with bright chrome fixtures and white granite countertops. Tim took a seat in the breakfast nook when it was offered and pulled his folder out again, placing it on the table in front of him. Dick sat opposite and they both stayed silent as Alfred prepared the tea service and set it in the middle of the table.
“This is delicious Mr. Pennyworth,” Tim said politely, sipping his Earl Grey. He hated tea - always had preferred coffee - but he wasn’t about to be more rude than he already was. He had learned some manners, after all, and he didn’t want the Waynes to only think he was a pushy little brat.
“Thank you,” Alfred said, delicately sipping his own drink. “Now I believe you have some things to share with us?”
“Right,” Tim agreed, straight to business, slipping out the one picture he hadn’t shared with Dick earlier and sliding it across the table, ignoring the look of shock on his face. “I’m sure you don’t remember but we met at Haly’s Circus when I was really young.”
“This was the night my parents died,” Dick breathed, touching the photo reverently. “I remember you - your parents sent a copy of this photo with a sympathy card to me after Bruce took me in as his ward.”
Tim nodded, making no move to take the picture back. “It’s how I figured out you were Robin actually,” Tim admitted. “Your trapeze leotard looks remarkably like the original Robin suit and only three people can do a quadruple backflip. When I saw Robin do one on TV I knew it had to be you.”
“And when did you figure this out?” Alfred asked, eyes locked on the photo as well.
Tim bit his lip. “When I was nine,” he admitted. “I dreamed of being Robin - took all kinds of martial arts classes and gymnastics classes and I watched every news broadcast and YouTube video I could. It was easy to figure out once I looked hard enough; I’ve never told anyone about your secret identities and I still won’t. Gotham needs Batman and Batman needs Robin.”
“I don’t understand,” Dick finally said, looking up. “What are you wanting me to do? Us to do?”
“Bruce is getting more and more reckless,” Tim said, pulling out more photos as evidence and laying them out across the table. Bloody scenes of Batman beating criminals to the point of unconsciousness and beyond and still frames of him obviously not blocking shots or dodging knives or bullets. “It’s been getting worse over the past few months; he’s not the same since Jason was killed. And the one percenters are getting suspicious that he isn’t keeping up his image. He’s made basically no statements and hasn’t been seen out of Wayne Manor in months.”
Both of the men across from him flinched but Tim pressed on, he didn’t know Jason but he’s sure the other boy would want his family (and Gotham) to be safe. “Like I’ve been saying, Batman needs a Robin and I think that should be you Dick.”
It was silent for a long moment and then finally, “No.”
“No?” Tim asked, confused. How could the answer be no? His argument was sound and he’d provided supporting evidence. Sure he hadn’t pulled out his multiple spreadsheets of statistics or his forty-eight slide PowerPoint presentation but he didn’t think he’d need to go that far. Maybe he should-
“No,” Dick confirmed, pushing all the photos back toward Tim except for the one that had his parents, his fingers still lingered on their faces.
“Why?” Was all Tim could ask. “He needs you! You were the first Robin, isn’t it your responsibility-”
“I said no,” Dick all but shouted, fist banging on the table. The room fell silent and Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look Tim, I get it. Your heart’s in the right place but Bruce and I don’t trust each other right now so I can’t be Robin for him. And Batman doesn’t want a partner.”
“But-”
“I wasn’t finished,” Dick interrupted, raising his hand up for silence. “Batman doesn’t want a partner, but he does need one and while I can’t be Robin I can still try to help him if he’ll let me. Maybe we should have been doing this all along instead of fighting.” Dick said, not making eye contact with Tim or with Alfred. “Alright, come on kid.”
“Where are we going?” Tim questioned, hurrying to pack up his bag and jog after Dick and Alfred as they made their way to a study. Dick fiddled with the grandfather clock in the room and it popped open silently to reveal a staircase. “Whoa… is this…?”
Dick nodded, entering the darkness. “Yeah, this is the entrance to the BatCave.”
“Holy shit,” Tim breathed as the Cave came into view. “Look at the computers and trophies and is that a T-rex?”
“Don’t touch that,” Dick advised, staring at his Robin suit in a case and then pulling off his shirt and jeans to reveal the Nightwing suit underneath. Tim wrinkled his nose - the high collar and deep vee of the chest were absolutely a crime of fashion. How did Dick even see anything in his peripherals like that?
Tim stepped in front of Dick as he made his way over to one of the bikes in the alcoves. “I thought you understood - Batman needs Robin, not Nightwing.”
“I know,” Dick agreed with a smile as he skirted around Tim, ignoring his further protests as he started up his bike and roared out of the Cave.
Tim ran a hand through his hair in frustration and looked back at Alfred. “Why is no one listening to me? Doesn’t he understand?”
With a sad smile Alfred stepped forward to squeeze Tim’s shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “perhaps Master Dick understood profoundly. Perhaps that’s why he brought you here.”
Tim looked over at the glass case that held Dick’s old Robin outfit and felt his mind slow to a stop and then reboot. This wasn’t part of the plan; this wasn’t even one of his many contingency measures. But Batman needed a Robin and Dick couldn’t fill that role any longer - he was his own hero, one that was associated with a Team and with his own city. He couldn’t be there for Bruce constantly the way he needed but Tim… Tim had parents that were often in and out of the country on business trips. Tim knew how to hack his attendance and school records. Tim lived right next door and had a basic background in a few different martial arts styles.
Tim could be there. Tim could be Robin.
Without a second thought, he pulled open the case and grabbed the mask.
Tim’s first time out as Robin was both a raging success and a stunning failure. Sure he managed to save Bruce and Dick from Two Face and dig them out of the rubble they’d been buried in but Bruce had been less than thrilled; going so far as to rip the domino off of Tim’s face the second he saw him.
Dick had thankfully stepped between them to stop any further escalation but the mood in the Batmobile the entire ride back to the Cave had been downright icy.
Maybe Tim had made a few calculation errors after all.
“Were you in on this?” Bruce growled at a waiting Alfred, slamming the door to the car and looming over the butler. Tim had to give credit where credit was due, though. He himself had been basically ducking and slinking around since Bruce had told him he wasn’t Robin but Alfred didn’t even waver under Batman’s glare and even returned one of his own.
“I didn’t stop it if that’s what you mean,” he said primly, making hard eye contact until Bruce snarled but took a step back. “I advise that you calm down, Master Bruce, and come back to the situation with a level head.”
“It’s not all Alfred’s doing,” Dick said, stepping up next to Tim and then edging slightly in front of him. “I had an idea of what he would do too and, to be fair, his instincts for detective work are astounding.”
“What exactly are you trying to do,” Bruce growled at the two of them. “The last boy who wore that costume died. Do neither of you care?”
And Tim’s patience snapped.
“You think I want to be Robin?” He asked, ignoring Dick’s surprised look and shrugging Dick’s hand off his shoulder when he tried to pull Tim back. “This was never my plan! I wanted Dick to come back and be Robin for you but he can’t. I get it now, why he wouldn’t do it. But Batman needs a Robin, you need a Robin.”
“No I don’t,” Bruce argued back, staring down at Tim. It took a bit of effort, but Tim didn’t back down, returning the glare with his own.
“Yes you do,” he insisted. “I’ve run the numbers - you’ve been more violent, put more people in the hospital and been more reckless with your own life. You chose to become Batman and protect Gotham and now it can’t survive without you.” He paused for a second and then continued, taking care to tread carefully. “I don’t know why, exactly, you chose to wear that costume but it makes you a symbol. Just like Robin was a symbol. And not just a symbol of the law but one of Justice; and just because one falls doesn’t mean another shouldn’t step forward to take their place. Batman needs a Robin no matter what he thinks he wants.”
The Cave was completely silent after Tim’s declaration and he wanted to tense up but he did his best to maintain eye contact with Bruce without betraying how uncomfortable he was. He felt like he was on a precipice and whichever way he tipped would determine his entire future.
“I created Batman,” Bruce said slowly, “to project an image. It succeeded. But to be effective, the symbol has to be greater than the reality.”
“I understand,” Tim said reverently.
Bruce’s expression under the cowl was unreadable. “I don’t think you do. Yet.”
“Does that mean…?”
“No,” Bruce said firmly. “I don’t even know you, I can’t be a team with you and Batman and Robin must be a team. But, if you can accomplish all the goals I give you and if you can adapt and work with me, I might consider giving you a shot.” With that said, he turned and walked away.
Tim tipped forward over the precipice and fell.
Across the city in Gotham Cemetery, a bloody hand bursts through the mud and pulls a body out into the rain.