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Chapter Text

Timmy inches nearer to the edge of the rusty, wobbly fire escape platform he is laying on. If he can get just a little bit closer, then he will be able to get a really good photo of the new Robin!

This might be the closest he has ever gotten to one of the bats, just at the bottom of the fire escape, Robin is taking a little breather from patrol. Batman is a few buildings away, having another argument with Nightwing, Tim only has a limited amount of time to get the shot.

But he can’t get it from this angle, he just needs a few more inches, a few more inches and he will get the best picture yet!

The fire escape creaks ominously with Timmy’s movement, and he freezes in place. Robin glances around, but the dark gray that Timmy is wearing makes him as good as invisible.

He lets out a sigh of relief, and starts inching forward again. He raised his camera and snaps a picture, and then another one. He’s so happily that he got the shot that he can’t resist a little happy wiggle.

Big mistake.

One moment he is silently celebrating that he got the photo, the next he is screaming as the fire escape gives way.

He falls through the air and braces himself for a hard landing.

But to his surprise, the landing isn’t as hard as he expects.

As he lands, there is a loud crack, the unmistakable sound of a bone breaking, and a young voice exclaiming a number of impolite words.

Timmy scrambles to his feet and sees Robin cradling his arm, his face pinched with pain. His arm is bent at an unnatural angle.

Timmy immediately bursts into tears.

He hurt Robin.

His carelessness and greed hurt Robin.

Because of his actions, Robin won’t be able to patrol for weeks!

He hurt Robin, he hurt Jason.

“Sh, sh, are you hurt kiddo?” Robin’s comforting voice reaches his ears as a gloved hand starts check him for injuries. Timmy can’t speak through his sobs. “Batman, I need back up, now!”

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be ok kiddo, can you tell me where you are hurt?” Jason asks with his victim comforting voice. Timmy can see why that voice is so effective, as it encourages him to lessen his sobs. “That’s it kiddo, you are doing good.”

There is a nearly silent swish of a cape that Timmy recognizes as belonging to Batman, and Timmy flinches away. He hurt Robin, Batman is gonna hate him! He’s gonna lock him away for ever!

Timmy’s sobs start up in earnest again and Batman takes a few steps away. Nightwing appears between Timmy and Batman, and tries to help Jason calm him down.

“Hey sweetheart.” Nightwing mummers comfortingly, and takes over from Jason checking Timmy for injuries. Timmy doesn’t even notice himself leaning into the warm, caring hands. “Take deep breaths fro me, please. That’s it, you can do it. You are doing great.”

In the peripheral of his vision, Timmy can see see Batman fussing over Robin, and his sobs increase again.

Satisfied there are no major injuries, Nightwing pulls the trembling, sobbing boy into his arms. “It’s ok, you are safe now. That must have been scary, huh? Falling from up there.”

Timmy shakes his head no. “Wasn’t scary.” It wasn’t, this wasn’t the first time that Timmy had fallen off of a dangerous part of a building in Gotham, and he wasn’t even hurt badly this time, just a few bruises. No, falling wasn’t the scary part.

“You’re a brave kid, huh?” Nightwing asks encouragingly. “Can you tell me what’s making you cry?”

Timmy takes a few shuddering breaths and glances at Batman and Robin. But he can’t stand to look at them for longer them a millisecond, to look at the aftermath of his mistake, to see the caring, worried father peaking out of the stoic Batman.

Timmy buries his face in Nightwing’s shoulder, determined to get as much comfort out of this interaction as possible, even though he doesn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry.” He sobs.

Nightwing rubs circles on Timmy’s back and asks. “What are you sorrry for?”

“I. I hurt him.” Timmy sobs. “I hurt Jason. I’m so sorry.”

Nightwing stiffens and his hand stutters in its movements. “What did you say?” He asks, his voice edged with danger.

“I hurt Robin.” Timmy sobs. “His arm is broken, and it’s all my fault!”

“It’s not your fault, kiddo.” Robin says as he and Batman approach. Nightwing carefully passes Timmy off to Jason, and then silently orders Batman to take a few steps away so that the two of them can talk. As he does so, he smoothly grabs Timmy’s slightly smashed camera.

“But it is my fault! If I hadn’t been on the fire escape, and fallen, then you wouldn’t be hurt!”

“Accidents happen, don’t worry about it.” Jason comforts him. “But what were you even doing there in the first place?”

Timmy mumbles something Jason can’t make out.

“What was that?”

“I was practicing photography of the local nocturnal avian life.” Timmy confesses.

Jason takes a few moments to parse his meaning, and Nightwing and Batman return. Batman crouches down, trying to make himself less threatening. “Your pictures are very impressive, sweetheart. How long have you been doing this?”

Timmy beams shyly. “Almost half a year now, Mr. W-Batman!”

“I see. What do your parents think of your photos?” Batman asks.

Timmy deflates. “They think photography is an acceptable hobby.”

“And what do they think about you running around the dangerous parts of Gotham at night?”

Timmy looks confused. “Why would they think anything about it?”

“Because they are your parents. They are supposed to know what you are up to.” Nightwing says.

“I tell them the important stuff, like what my grades are, but they aren’t interested in the rest.”

“Are you saying that they don’t notice you sneaking out?” Jason asks.

“Why would they?” Timmy asks. “And I’m not sneaking out, they said I could do whatever I want as long as I keep my grades up.”

“So they have no idea where you are right now?” Jason asks.

Timmy shakes his head.

“We better bring you home to them, tell them you are safe.” Jason says.

“You don’t need to do that!” Timmy protests. “You need to get your arm fixed!”

“Your parents need to know that you are safe! What if they decide to check on you, and see your bed is empty?” Jason argues.

“They won’t.” Timmy protests. “They are out of the country, even if they were inclined to check on me, they wouldn’t be able to.”

“Well, what about your nanny?”

“Nanny?” Timmy puffs out his chest. “I don’t need a nanny, I’m almost ten years old!”

“When are your parents coming home?” Jason asks.

“Probably two or three months.” Timmy shrugs.

Batman, Nightwing, and Robin have a silent conversation with glances, shrugs, and hand movements. Then Batman turns to Timmy. “To clarify, your parents will be gone for months, and you don’t have a nanny. You are living all alone?”

Timmy nods shyly, the seriousness of Batman’s voice scaring him. “Yeah. But my parents said I’m really mature for my age! You don’t have to worry about me, promise!”

The three avian themed vigilantes have another silent conversation, then Nightwing turns to Timmy. “How would you like to see the batcave, kiddo?”

Timmy’s eyes widen. “That would be awesome! Uh, I mean I would like that Mr. Gra-Nightwing, sir.”

When they arrive in the batcave, Timmy looks around in complete shock for a few moments, then spots the medbay and immediately drags Jason over there.

Alfred is waiting for them, in a pristine suit and a domino mask, and greets the children. “Master Timothy, pleased to make your acquaintance. Master Robin, would you like anything for the pain before I take a closer look at your arm?”

“No thanks Alfie, I can handle it.”

“I didn’t ask if you could handle it. And I do believe you are supposed to refer to me as Agent A when masks are on.” Alfred raises an eyebrow.

Jason cringes. “Sorry Alf. But I’m pretty sure Timothy knows our identities already. Hang on, how do you know his name? No one has asked him yet.”

“I know many things, my dear boy.” Alfred says with a hint of a smirk.

Jason nods sagely and turns to Timmy in order to impart important wisdom. “Alfred knows everything.”

Alfred begins to carefully poke and prod at Jason’s arm and the boy winces.

Timmy holds out his hand toward Jason’s good arm and shyly offers. “You can squeeze my hand if you want.”

“Thanks, Timbit.” Jason accepts the offer, careful not to squeeze too hard, Timmy’s hand is smaller and more fragile looking than his own.

When Alfred finishes his examination, he brings out an X-ray machine to take some pictures of the broken bone.

That done, he gets ready to set it.

Jason holds Timmy’s hand again, having had to let go of it for the X-rays, and Alfred swiftly sets it.

Jason tries his best to be a big boy, to not let the pain bother him, but he can’t stop a few tears from leaking out of his eyes. When Timmy sees the tears, his own lip starts wobbling and he nearly starts crying as well, but Alfred returns with the materials needed to make a cast just in time to distract the boys from their tears.

Alfred lets Timmy help him put the cast on Jason’s arm, carefully explaining what to do and how it works as they do so.

As soon as the cast is dry, Jason lets Timmy be the first one to sign it. Alfred is the second.

Jason then beckons Bruce and Dick over, and they sign it as well.

As they do so, Jason starts yawning, which causes Timmy to yawn as well. Bruce can’t help but smile at the adorable sight. “You two have had quite a night. I believe it’s about time for you to head to bed. Timothy, would you like Alfred to set up a spare bedroom for you, or would you like him to put a cot in Jason’s room?”

Timmy’s eyes widen at the invitation to sleep over. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir, I can just go home, I’m right next door.”

“You don’t have any adults at your house right now, correct?” Bruce asks.

“No, but-“

“Come on Timmy, it’ll be fun!” Dick interrupts. “Sleepovers are the best, you can eat candy, and watch movies, and stay up all night talking!”

“I do believe the main purpose of a sleepover is to sleep.” Alfred says.

Dick leans towards Jason and Timmy and stage whispers. “Don’t worry, if you need someone to sneak you snacks and movies, I’m your man!”

“Master Dick, if you try to give sugar filled junk food to children who are supposed to be sleeping, you will regret it.” Alfred warns and Dick blanches.

Timmy, Jason, and Bruce can’t help but chuckle at the sight. “So what will it be, sweetheart?” Bruce speaks. “Your own room, or share with Jaylad?”

“Ummm.”

Timmy looks overwhelmed by the choice, so Jason speaks up. “You gotta stay in my room! Not much of a sleepover if you don’t.”

Timmy nods and Bruce nods as well. “Sounds good.”

“It’s gonna be a party!” Dick exclaims.

Jason sighs. “You aren’t invited, Dickface.”

Dick pouts dramatically and Tim hesitatingly says. “Maybe.. maybe you can hang out with us for a bit?”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Fine. But only for a little bit, and only because Timbits wants ya.”

“Party!” Dick exclaims with a wide smile and does a number of backflips.

Alfred clears his throat. “I do believe we already established that a sleep over is for the purpose of sleep, not to, as Master Dick says, ‘party’.”

The boys all look heartbroken, and Dick and Jason break out the puppy eyes. When Timmy sees what they are doing, he follows their example.

Overcome by the cuteness, though he would never admit it, Alfred continues speaking. “I suppose you boys may have some snacks together while I get the cot ready. Snacks without excessive sugar, of course.”

The boys cheer and Alfred and Bruce can’t help but crack smiles at them.

Ten minutes later, Alfred is very efficient, finds the three boys in Jason’s room, dressed in pjs. Tim in a pair of Jason’s pjs that are too big for him.

The ‘party’ as Dick would say, isn’t as energetic as the teenager would probably like people to think. The three boys are exhausted, and in the case of Jason and Tim, in pain, Jason with his arm, and Timmy with bruises from the fall.

Soon enough they are yawning, and Bruce comes in to tuck them into bed.

Tucks in Jason and Timmy that is, as Jason tossed Dick out of the room as soon as he could, despite the older teen’s puppy eyes and pout.

Bruce tucks Jason in first, pulling the blanket’s up too his chin and wrapping them snugly around him, then kisses his forehead.

Timmy is unnaturally stiff when it’s his turn for Bruce to tuck in. He watches with wide eyes, eyes that widen even further when Bruce asks if he wants a kiss as well. Timmy nods shyly and looks completely starsteuck when Bruce kisses his forehead the same way he kissed his son’s forehead.

Jason falls asleep nearly instantly after Bruce leaves the room, but it takes Timmy much longer, to overwhelmed by the night’s events.

Timmy wakes up to the sound of screaming.

Of Jason screaming.

Of his hero, his hero he accidentally hurt, screaming.

Heart pounding, he jumps out of bed and rushes to Jason’s side. By the time he gets there, the screaming has stopped, instead Jason is gasping for breath.

He stands there frozen for a long moment, and just as he is about to turn tail and find Bruce or Alfred or Dick, Jason notices him and gasps out. “Sorry for waking you.”

Taking that to mean that Jason isn’t in imminent danger, Timmy asks. “Are you ok?”

Jason huffs a laugh. “No. But don’t worry, I will be, it was just a nightmare.”

Timmy nods in understanding, he gets nightmares sometimes too, ever since he watched the Grayson’s fall to their deaths. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Timmy asks, thinking about how he likes to make himself a hot chocolate and cuddle a hot water bottle after he gets a nightmare.

Jason ponders for a moment, then lifts the edge of the blanket. “Could. Could you stay with me? The uh, the nightmare was about you falling, and I didn’t catch you. It would help to feel that you are alive.”

Timmy hesitates a moment too long causing Jason to hastily add. “You don’t have too, you barely even know me. Never get in bed with someone unless you are completely sure about it. And never if it makes you uncomfortable. I can see that you are alive, that’s helping.”

Timmy takes one more second to think about it, then says. “I’m sure.”

He climbs into the bed, and settles stiffly beside Jason.

It takes a while for the two of them to get comfortable as it’s the first time Timmy has ever shared a bed with anyone, and Jason doesn’t want to do anything that might make him uncomfortable, but eventually they settle down and fall asleep again. This time neither wakes from nightmares.

When morning comes, the two of them get dressed, Timmy borrowing some of Jason’s clothes, and head down to the kitchen to eat.

Alfred makes the best pancakes and bacon that Timmy has ever had, and the boy can’t help but think his current situation is some kind of dream.

Until Bruce speaks as they finish up their food, voice floating over the sound of cutlery scraping plates.

“Timothy.” Bruce’s voice is unreadable. “I need to talk with you. If you could follow me to my study please?”

Wide eyed, Timmy silently nods in agreement, then exchanges a look with Jason. Jason gives him a reassuring smile and thumbs up, and it settles Timmy’s nerves a little bit.

The long walk to the study is silent, neither saying a work until they step inside.

“Would you prefer I keep the door open or closed?” Bruce asks.

Timmy just shrugs, so Bruce closes the door part way.

He then sits down on a chair and invites Timmy to sit on the chair across from him.

Timmy sits uncomfortably, fiddling with his sleeves as he waits for Bruce to gather his thoughts and start the conversation.

“You parents won’t be back for a few months, right?”

Timmy nods.

“And you don’t have anyone watching over you, right?”

“My housekeeper checks in on me a few times a week, that counts, right?” Timmy asks the man in front of him.

“Timothy…” Bruce starts, then sighs. “That isn’t good enough. According to the laws of this state, that is insufficient. As a foster parent, I’m a mandatory reporter. Do you know what that is?”

Timmy nods slowly, dread building in his heart.

“I called social services last night.” Bruce says. “I’m sorry, but until your parents return and can prove that they are fit guardians, you can’t go home.”

“Where. Where will I go? Please don’t put me in the foster care system, please.” The boy begs.

“You won’t be going into the system.” Bruce assures him. “Did you know you have an uncle?”

Timmy shakes his head no.

“That's not surprising, your uncle is your father’s half brother, so your father’s family kept him a secret in order to avoid any scandals.”

“So I’ll be stay with my uncle?” Timmy asks.

“That’s correct.” Bruce says. “Your uncle, and your cousin, he’s a few years older than you. Don’t worry, I did some extensive background checks, your uncle is a good man. And if you aren’t comfortable there for any reason, call me immediately and I will do whatever I can for you, alright?”

Heart pounding a mile a minute, Timmy can do nothing but agree. “Alright.”

Bruce, and Jason, and even Dick, all give Timmy their phone numbers, and before the day ends, the boy is packed up and on a plane to the other side of the country.

Chapter Text

The flight is long enough for Timmy to do some research about his newly discovered family, and his new home.

He learns a number of things, some more concerning than others.

He learns that his aunt died of a rare disease, frontotemporal dementia.

He learns that a local family, the Hales, were the victims of a house fire, likely arson, that killed all but three members of the family, and that the woman suspected of committing said arson died of a supposed animal attack in the remains of the burned home, not long after one of the victims, who had been comatose since the fire, disappeared from the hospital.

He learns that the coma patient’s nurse was found dead, with no leads or suspects in the case, and that before the comatose Hale went missing, another Hale was found dead. She was found torn in two, a case that baffled the local police as they couldn’t figure out if the victim was killed in an animal attack, or by her brother.

There are a slightly concerning amount of deaths in this town, many of which are thought to be animal attacks.

Nothing near the amount of deaths in Gotham, but not what Timmy expects for a town of this size, certainly not after Batman himself said it would be safe.

He digs deeper into the town, and finds a few incidents that happened at the school, some kind of attack late at night while a few students, include his cousin, were at the school for an unknown reason, an attack that left the janitor dead, and what was apparently an animal attack during the winter formal, an attack that landed his cousin’s date in the hospital.

As he reads more, he learns that said date went missing from the hospital only to be found two days later, wearing nothing but dirt, and supposedly not remembering a single thing that happened during those two days.

Something is happening in town, something that slipped under Batman’s nose much the same way Timmy did for so long, and Timmy is determined to get to the bottom of this.

It shouldn’t be too difficult, the time he spent on Gotham’s streets stalking the bats, ahem, sorry, doing some nocturnal avian photography, has prepared him for this.

Beacon Hills doesn’t stand a chance!

“Timothy?” A man who matches the description of his uncle asks as he meets him at the airport.

Timmy nods and takes a deep breath, then bravely speaks. “That’s me. You uh, you could call me Tim.”

He did a lot of thinking on the plane, mostly about the mysterious town he will be living in, but also about himself. Most people call him him Timothy or Timmy, but now that he’s in a new place, starting a new chapter of his life, it feel appropriate to change his name as well, change it to something not so formal or childish.

The man smiles broadly, the friendliest smile Tim has ever seen in his life, a side effect of living in Gotham for so long. Tim is very tempted to check the man for Joker poisoning. “Ok, Tim. I’m Noah. Noah Stilinski. Stiles, my son wanted to come along to pick you up, but something came up, so you can meet him when we get home.”

Tim nods and grabs the handle of his suitcase. He takes a deep breath, and follows his uncle into the unknown.

Stiles sighs dramatically as he flops down on his bed. It isn’t enough that his life is filled with supernatural drama, nooo, the universe has decided it’s a great idea to throw a cousin he has never met, never even knew existed, into his life.

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t want to get to know his cousin, from the sounds of it, the poor kids needs some family right about now, apparently he’s been severely neglected, and someone informed CPS that he was wandering around the bad side of town, in a place called Crime Alley, who even names a place that?? That’s like naming the Hale house Fire Place, or the high school Learning Terror.

Point is, as much as Stiles would love to wrap his little cousin in bubble wrap and mother hen him, what he wants more is for the kid to be safe. And while all the adults believe that Beacon hills is much safer than Gotham, Stiles knows better.

Case in point, something, something very much not human, has decided to go on a violent killing spree.

And Stiles and his friends are the only ones who can stop it.

Probably.

It is possible that the Argents might be able to stop it, but Stiles doesn’t trust them as far as he can throw them, which is not very far.

And now he is stuck at his house, waiting to meet his cousin, while Scott is uncovering a murder plot, or fighting to the death, or inviting someone to the exclusive ‘grow sideburns and fangs and howl at the moon’ club, or doing his homework, or eating tacos. There is no way to know for sure as Scott seems to have forgotten about a wonderful invitation called the cellular phone.

Stiles loves Scott, he really does, but sometimes he just wants to throttle him.

And Stiles isn’t a seer, or at least he doesn’t think he is, but he knows that his cousin moving to Beacon Hills will end badly.

Stiles’s spiraling thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his father entering the house.

Weird, isn’t the kid supposed to be with him?

Stiles makes his way down the staircase, probably too quickly to be safe, and nearly trips over his own feet when he catches sight of his dad, as well as the kid who must be his cousin.

He isn’t sure what he too expect when meeting the kid, but he certainly doesn’t expect for the kid—who appears to be wearing a very expensive version of his Sunday best—to smile a clearly fake smile and hold his hand out for a handshake, while staring at Stiles with eyes that look far too old for the face they are in, eyes that feel like they can see right through him.

“You must be Mieczyslaw.” The kid says with perfect pronunciation, voice tinged with a slightly posh accent that Stiles has only ever heard in old movies.

Stiles chokes on air. “Call me Stiles, please.”

“Very well. My name is Timothy, but please, call me Tim.”

“Well!” The sheriff claps his hands together and winces when the sound makes the young boy flinch. “Now that you’ve been introduced, I’m afraid I have to get going, there is a big case at the moment, but I promise I’ll take some time off to spend with the two of you as soon as I can.”

Stiles can’t help the wave of annoyance as he correctly guesses his dad’s next words.

“Stiles, please show Tim the guest room and help him settle in. And make sure the two of you eat something for dinner. Call me if you need anything, and Tim, I hope you’ll enjoy living with us, feel free to let me know if you need anything.”

Tim replies with a polite. “Yes sir.” And Stiles with a less polite. “Whatever. Stay safe.” As the sheriff leaves the house.

“Soooooo.” Stiles draws out the word as he stares at his cousin. “Want to see where you are staying?”

“Yes please.”

“Do you always speak so formally, Tim?” Stiles asks.

“Yes sir.”

Stiles jolts back as if electriccuted. “Sir!?! I’m your cousin, your teenage cousin, don’t call me sir!”

“As you wish, Stiles.”

Stiles mumbles under his breath the rest of the way to the spare room, then heads to the kitchen makes some food while Tim unpacks.

He’s not feeling like making anything fancy, so he just makes some sandwiches, but by Tim’s reaction, you’d think Stiles was some kind of fancy chef.

“This is amazing, thank you!” Tim’s face has weird expression on it, like he wants to smile, but is trying his hardest not to.

Disturbed, Stiles turns away, busying himself with some tidying. “It’s just a sandwich, nothing special.”

“But it is special. You made it for me.” Tim argues.

Stiles can’t help but turn again to look at the wide-eyed boy, and some words slip out of his mouth without his bidding. “Has no one ever made you food before?”

The awkward silence and Tim’s skinny frame answers Stiles's question.

“Tell you what kid, I got some time, want to bake some cookies together?”

Stiles does not have the time, but the restrained smile on the boy's face and the sparkle in his eyes makes it worth it, even as he pouts. “I’m not a kid.”

“Sure, sure.” Stiles smiles and ruffles the boy’s hair, an act that makes the boy freeze so stiffly that Stiles withdraws his hand immediately.

The two of them bake cookies together, and then Stiles sends the boy to his room, spouting out nonsense about bedtime. Tim sees through Stiles’s excuse, impossible not too with those eyes, but doesn’t call him on it, instead goes obediently to his room.

Once alone in his new room, Tim pulls out his seemingly empty suitcase from under his bed, and opens up a secret compartment containing his photography uniform.

At first glance, the outfit doesn’t look like anything special, dark gray pants, sweater, and face mask.

It’s when you inspect it closer that it gets interesting.

The pockets are bigger on the inside than on the outside, big enough to hold two cameras, six water bottles, and an entire box of granola bars. The material is completely soundproof, to the extent that Superman himself can’t hear Tim’s heartbeat or breathing when he has it on, and unless you know it is there—say, because the person wearing the outfit fell on top of you and broke your arm—then your eyes will just slide over it, as if the person wearing it is just an unimportant part of the background.

It’s amazing what can be accomplished when one gives one’s entire trust fund to a manipulator of reality living in an attic that doesn’t exist deep in Crime Alley.

Tim even got a sound dampening spell on his shoes as a free bonus!

Dressed for success, Tim listens carefully until Stiles’s window opens and closes and a jeep engine turns on, then sneaks out his own window.