Work Text:
There was a shadow by Bruce's bed. Years of patrolling the streets of Gotham and paranoia had made Bruce light asleep. He could not fail to notice. His body was already in combat mode, it would snap as soon as the enemy approached the bed and…
“Bruce, are you awake?” a small voice asked.
Oh. It wasn't a menace.
Bruce had a lot of paranoid issues to work out.
Taking care not to move too suddenly, Bruce sat up in bed. He turned on the bedside lamp. Stopped in the bedroom doorway was Tim, the pillow pressed to his chest, his eyes too big for that still childish face.
Certainly not the threat Bruce imagined.
The man asked, “Tim? What happened?"
"I had a nightmare. Can I sleep here?” the kid asked, a faint note of pleading in her voice. Bruce's weary brain short-circuited.
Tim felt safe with him. Tim felt safe enough with him to ask him to sleep together for fear of more nightmares.
Dick and Jason hadn't. He hadn't made himself worthy of their trust. Dick didn't want anyone to replace his parents, and Jason was terrified of a possible pedophile.
He had never considered that one of the children would trust him.
"Bruce?"
“Ah, of course, you can, Tim,” Bruce replied, remembering that children (and many adults) do not mind readers and you need to verbalize your reactions as soon as possible.
Dinah's books weren't a godsend, but they were an unexpected step forward for someone like Bruce.
Slowly, Tim approached, and Bruce helped him onto the bed. Once he was settled and lying in bed, stroking his hair, Bruce asked, "What was about this nightmare?"
Tim grimaced, “I dreamed about my parents. They wanted me back. I didn't want to."
Bruce felt uncomfortable. The boy must have eavesdropped when the Drakes' lawyers came. Obviously, they were at a disadvantage, their clients' crimes had been clear two years ago, and they had shown no signs of wanting to change. They kept leaving the country for long periods of time, not writing to Tim, and not showing up for court meetings.
It didn't take an expert to see how any Jack Drake motion would be dismissed.
However, all this must have seemed inexplicable to a child, who saw only the risk of being taken away.
Gently, Bruce told him, “That's not going to happen. I won't allow it."
“I know,” Tim muttered.
“You have proof. My parents are bad."
"They're not bad..."
“But they did bad things,” Tim repeated.
“They didn't want me before, and if I come back, they won't want me again. “
He would like to find something to say, at least to refute what was said. He found none. Jack and Janet weren't parent material. They loved their job too much, they were too self-absorbed to focus on another person.
Even getting Tim back was not dictated by love but by the need for an heir for their legacy.
Bruce couldn't stand any of it. Children were to be loved no matter what they represented to their parents.
“Oh…”
“I want to stay here,” Tim started talking again.
“With Alfred, Steph, and Cass. And with Dami and you. I don't want my parents."
He felt a warm sensation in his chest, love overflowing for this child who had given him so much without even realizing it.
Legal action wasn't the only solution for people like the Drakes. Selina had alerted him to some worried encounters with Jack Drake in Gotham's underground.
Bruce waited for the man to do something enormously stupid to throw him in jail. He was a patient man, not Jack Drake, too arrogant to admit that he didn't have the upper hand.
Bruce kissed his forehead, “Don't worry. I will burn Gotham to the ground before I allow you to return to them."