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“Are you ready?”
Red Robin’s muscles tensed in anticipation, and he had to deliberately relax.
This was it.
After weeks of preparation, dozens of sleepless nights and countless hours of research the crucial moment was finally approaching.
Despite his over-preparedness, ice spread through his veins as the car slowly backed into a spot and shifted into park.
“Babe?” Bernard shifted in the driver's seat to look at him head on. “We don't have to do this if you're not re-”
“I’m ready.” Tim interrupted.
“Then why do you look like you think someone is going to punch you in the face?” Bernard asked, with a teasing tilt to his lips that made Tim’s throat feel dry despite his anxious state.
“I’m a native Gothamite.” Tim joked flatly, “I’m ninety percent sure there is a rule that a stranger has to try and punch you in the face once a week.”
“You’re almost right.” Bernard teased, leaning in as if he was telling a secret. “It’s actually a law in Gotham that you’re supposed to punch at least two people a week.”
“Really?” Tim asked, trying to keep a straight face. “I’ve never heard of that law.”
“It was all in the pamphlet they give the transplants.” Bernard explained with a faux serious tone. “Along with a complimentary gas mask, the phone number of their local goonion rep and a map to the nearest urgent care. “Bernard listed off, using his fingers.
Tim started laughing, but Bernard shook his head in mock outrage.
“Don't tell me you haven't been starting fights with strangers. I can’t believe you, Timothy Drake-Wayne, would shirk your civic duty li-”
Tim cut Bernard off again, this time with a light kiss to his lips.
“Are you gonna turn me in, Bernie?” Tim asked, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically.
“Welllll,” Bernard responded, drawing out the word for effect. “I suppose I could be convinced to keep your little secret.” He paused and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “For a price.”
It was all so ridiculous that Tim started laughing again and Bernard joined in. For a moment Tim closed his eyes and he could pretend they were back in Gotham, sharing their favorite tiny booth at the coffee shop by the docks. Then the moment ended, and Tim had to confront reality again.
“We can worry about all that later,” Bernard started again in a brisk tone. “We aren't in Gotham now, so stop worrying. Everyone is going to love you and I promise,” He held up a hand as if swearing an oath, “There will be no random acts of violence tonight.”
Tim hesitated. He had been worrying about tonight for weeks, ever since Bernie asked him to come. Tonight was the first time Tim would be meeting Bernard's extended family, up until tonight he’d only met Bernard's parents, and they had never approved of Tim.
“Or we could just not go in.” Bernard offered at Tim’s pause.
“Yes, we do.” Tim argued immediately.
“No, we don’t” Bernard insisted. “We can just go back to the hotel tonight and watch a movie.”
“We did not drive eleven and a half hours so I could chicken out and go back to the hotel.” Tim replied. He took a deep breath and opened the car door. “Let’s do this.”
Bernard scrambled out of his side of the car as Tim began the determined march towards the front door.
“I’m serious Tim. We can tell them we got held up in traffic and wait until tomo-”
“Too late now.” Tim whispered as the door was flung open to reveal an elderly woman with the same warm brown eyes as Bernard.
“Bernard!” She cried, throwing her arms around his waist.
The Woman, Tim recognized from his research and Bernard's stories, was his eighty-three-year-old grandmother, Marina Weston.
“Mrs. Weston,” Tim greeted her formally when she started to pull away from Bernard. “It’s very nice to meet you. Bernie has told me so much about you.”
Instead of the handshake Tim was expecting, Marina pulled him into a fierce hug that was surprisingly tight considering her age.
“You must be Tim!” She greeted him enthusiastically, “I feel like I know you already, our Bernie hasn't been able to stop talking about you.”
“Nana!” Bernard protested.
“I haven't gotten more than two sentences out of him without your name coming up for almost a year.” Marina continued, ignoring Bernard’s flushed face as she steered them both inside.
Bernard’s extended family was gathering for a long weekend to celebrate Marina’s eighty fourth birthday and the house was already packed with people when they stepped inside. Although Tim hadn’t met any of them before, he recognized the occupants of the living room as easily as he had Bernard’s grandma. It was a good thing he didn't have to pay attention during the introductions because Tim wasn’t sure he would have remembered any of their names otherwise.
Usually, Tim was great with names and faces, in fact he was great at introductions in general. It was a skill he’d perfected years ago in preparation for taking over Drake Industries. Tonight wasn't a business meeting though, and Tim found himself with a tight ball of anxiety in his chest. He might have a big family now but for most of his childhood Tim had been an only child and his home had been a quiet place devoid of the overlapping chatter and warmth that Bernard's extended family filled this house with.
Everyone was thrilled to see Bernard again, it had been a few years since they had all gotten together and, to his obvious embarrassment, more than one person commented on how much he’d grown. Linda, Bernard's aunt on his mother’s side, was one of those people.
“Bernie! My god you must have grown a whole foot.” Linda teased when she saw him up close. “What are they feeding you in Gotham?”
“You don’t want to know.” Bernard mock whispered in a conspiratorial tone, before asking in a normal voice, “Where are the boys at?”
“Mikey is out back at the grill with Grampa and Wes is still upstairs in his room.” She answered. Then Linda pulled Bernard a little closer and in a lower voice she explained, “I was actually hoping you could talk with him. Wes has been having a rough time and I was hoping he’d feel more comfortable confiding in you. Lord knows he doesn't want to talk to me.”
“Yeah of course.” Bernard agreed easily.
Wes and Bernard had always been close. As children they’d been inseparable. When Bernard moved to Gotham, they had tried to keep close with letters and later phone calls and texts but Tim knew the distance between them was something Bernard regretted.
“What do you mean by a hard time?” Bernard asked, “He’s not having problems with anyone from college, is he?”
“No, nothing like that.” She reassured him. “It’s just-” She hesitated. “Wes has a- secret boyfriend- I guess.”
“And you think he’s a bad influence?” Bernard asked tentatively.
“Heck no!” Linda corrected him hastily. “We love Danny! He’s a great kid- a little odd but nothing you can blame him for considering everything and it's not like Wes isn't a little peculiar himself.”
“Wait. I thought you didn't know who the boyfriend was?” Bernard voiced the question that Tim had been about to ask.
“That's the part that has me worried. We all know they are together- it's a small town and we’ve all seen them out on dates, but Wes won't tell us anything. At first, I thought maybe he was a little nervous to come out so we gave him space but it's been over a year now.” She explained. “He has to know that we all know, but he’s still insisting that it's all a misunderstanding.”
Bernard frowned and Tim could see the way his mind was trying to work through the mystery. Sometimes, looking at Bernard like this, he wondered if he looked like this when he was working on a case.
“Wait, is this the same Danny that Wes was obsessed with sophomore year? The one he thought was a secret zombie?”
“Zombie?” Tim asked, thinking about Jason. “Like he came back from the dead?”
“Ghost.” Linda corrected with an eye roll. “That's the one alright. Although maybe don't mention that around Wes. He’s a little sensitive about that.”
Bernard scoffed and Tim had to hold back an eye roll. Bernard should have been the last person to judge Wes for his insane conspiracy theory. Like Bernie, Wes liked crazy conspiracy theories and adventures. He had actually run a pretty big hero blog back in the day when those were still a novelty. Their shared interest in the impossibly improbable was one of the things that kept the two of them as close as they still were.
“I’ll talk to him this week and see what I can find out.” Bernard promised.
Bernard’s Grandma chose that moment to enter the dining room with a sheet pan loaded with steaming rolls.
“Mama!” Linda cried as she grabbed the pan from her mother, “Let me carry those.”
“I can handle a pan of rolls.” Bernard’s Grandmother replied in an exasperated tone. “I am eighty-three, not eight hundred.” Then towards Bernard and Tim she added, “Can you boys go upstairs and tell Mikey and Wes Dinner is ready?”
“Mikey ‘s out back with Dad at the grill.” Bernard’s aunt corrected. “I’ll get him in a minute, you boys take your time catching up with Wes.”
Bernard gave them a thumbs up and pulled Tim towards the stairs.
“So,” Tim started as soon as they were out of earshot of the others. “Wes thought he was a ghost?”
Bernard grinned and shook his head dismissively.
“It's a thing in Amity. It’s hard to explain.”
“What, like people believe in ghost stories?”
“No, like there are ghosts.”
“Ghosts.” Tim repeated skeptically.
“Seriously?” Bernard asked. “After everything you’ve seen you draw the line at ghosts?”
Before Tim could point out how unlikely it was that the Justice League would miss enough ghosts to haunt an entire town, Bernard stopped in front of a door and raised his fist to knock. Then he stopped.
There were voices coming from inside. They were too muffled to make out any of what they were saying but the tone sounded tense like an argument.
Part of Tim wanted to push Bernard out of the way and break the door down before anyone on the other side knew they were there or slip a bug underneath and listen in on the conversation from a more secure location. The part of Tim that was Robin had already flipped through half a dozen scenarios before he made himself stop. This was a completely mundane civilian situation. There was no need for crazy vigilante plans.
After a brief hesitation Bernard continued through with his knock.
“Wes?” he called through the door.
Someone inside the room cursed and something heavy fell to the floor.
“I’m coming in.” Bernard announced as he shoved open the door, although could tell from his body language that Bernard was still more curious than concerned.
“No-” Wes was evidently lunging towards the door to hold it closed but was too late and nearly crashed into the two of them.
“What were you-”
“Don’t you know how to fucking kno-”
The two cousins spoke at the same time only to be interrupted by a quiet voice that came from a black-haired boy as he sat up on the other side of the bed with one hand pressed to his head.
“Ow, that hurt.”
For a moment all four of them just stared at each other.
“It’s not what it looks like.” Wes blurted, his face turning red.
“I’m Danny.” The stranger said without prompting as he stood up, revealing his shirtless state.
“It doesn't look like anything.” Bernard lied.
“Hi Danny, I’m Tim.” Tim added awkwardly.
Tim thought Danny was cute in an awkward way that reminded him of a puppy with too-big paws. That comparison was laid to rest when Danny stepped into the light. There were thin silvery scars all along his exposed torso.
Still blushing, Wes grabbed something off the floor and pressed it into Danny’s chest.
“Put that on and go.” Wes demanded, not giving Danny a chance to put his shirt on before he started pushing Danny towards the window.
“Come on Wes, don't be like that.” Bernard protested. “We’re all adults here. You don't have to make him sneak out the window.”
“I told you it's not like that!” Wes insisted almost hysterically.
“Exactly.” Bernard agreed too easily. “So, he can use the front door.”
Wes looked like he was going to argue but then he started pulling Danny towards the door instead.
“Right. Use the front door. That's what he’s going to do. Right now.”
Danny for his part seemed to not mind Wes’ rough treatment, or continued insistence that they weren't together. Tim could understand why the whole thing might set off alarm bells in Wes’s mothers mind.
“It’s nice to meet you Tim.” Danny spoke casually even as Wes continued pushing and pulling him in turn.
As soon as they started down the stairs exclamations started coming from downstairs.
“What the-”
“Ma, come look!”
“Is that the Fenton kid?”
Wes marched Danny towards the front door until he was blocked by his grandmother.
“Danny, sweetie, it's nice to see you again.” She greeted him warmly.
“Hi Mrs. Weston.” Danny responded enthusiastically. “My mom is bringing you fudge later that she made for your birthday. Oh uhm, Happy Birthday.”
“Yes, very nice. Goodbye Danny.” Wes tried to push Danny around his grandmother, but she stepped to block them again.
“That is very nice.” Marina agreed with a smile, “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight? We have plenty of space and more food than we’ll be able to eat in a week.”
“No!” Wes almost shouted.
“Wesley.” His grandmother hissed. “You are being rude.”
“Danny can't stay.” Wes insisted. “He’s busy.”
“Danny is perfectly capable of speaking for himself.” Marina responded sternly, before looking back at Danny with a smile, “What do you say sweetie? Can you spare an hour to have dinner with an old Woman on her birthday?”
Danny looked from Marina to Wes and back again.
“I'm sorry. Wes is right I have- stuff tonight." Danny explained, stumbling over the words. Then with an almost flirty grin he added “As much as I’d love to play hooky and have dinner with a beautiful woman, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you in the hands of your family tonight.”
Tim had to physically force back a laugh. Even Dickie Grayson himself would have been impressed by Danny’s overly corny line.
Bernard’s grandmother rolled her eyes, but Tim could tell that she found it more endearing than anything else.
After Danny made his escape, they all started migrating towards the dinner table. Surprisingly there were only a few teasing comments thrown Wes’ way about Danny, mostly from his older brother and their mother quickly put a stop to it with a pointed look.
Thinking about the way Wes and Danny interacted made Tim feel like he was missing something. He agreed with Wes’ mother, there was definitely some sort of romantic tension between the two but nothing about their relationship added up. The scene Tim and Bernard walked in on in the bedroom might have been suggestive at first, but they clearly heard arguing through the door.
Where did Danny come from? Wes’ grandpa had been cooking since eight and the house was basically a revolving door with all the people who had been in and out today. Someone should have noticed Danny come in. Wes had pushed him toward the window as if Danny might leave that way, but Tim had seen that side of the house when they drove up and there was no way for Danny to make that climb. Wes’ window was on the second-floor south side. There were no plants or crumbling bricks to use as handholds. There was nothing leaning up against the house and the decorative trim was both minimal and too far apart to be of use. Even Tim would have trouble climbing up to that window and a civilian could seriously injure themselves climbing out of it.
Why wouldn't Wes tell his family? They weren’t homophobic obviously; they had all readily accepted Tim and Bernard's relationship without even the usually obligatory overly personal questions about queer relationships he had come to expect from anyone older than thirty-five. Wes and Bernard’s family liked Danny. By Tim’s standards they weren’t overly prying into Wes's personal life or hounding him about anything.
“So, remind me how you two met?”
“We sat next to each other in class.” Tim started explaining to Bernard’s younger cousin. “Dowd. Drake. We were doomed from the start.”
Tim told her about the group project they had done in freshman year that ended in a broken window and a small chemical fire.
Bernard protested his culpability in mock outrage to the amusement of his family.
Wes was the only one not listening now. He was looking at his phone in one hand and biting the tips of his nails on the other unconsciously. What was he looking at? Was he texting Danny? Except he wasn't holding his phone in a way that allowed him to type on a standard layout with ease.
The mystery of it all was driving Tim insane. He wanted to blame it on his Robin instincts, but in truth Tim was obsessed with solving puzzles long before he put on the scaly green shorts.
When a knock sounded at the door Bernard’s uncle got up to answer it and returned a minute later to get Marina.
“Maddie Fenton is here to see you Ma.”
That must be Danny's mom with the fudge he talked about.
Tim looked around the table and made a decision.
“Hey Babe, where’s the bathroom again?”
If Bernard knew what Tim was doing he didn’t say anything and a minute later Tim was listening in on Bernard’s Grandma and Danny’s mom in the entryway.
Unfortunately, the conversation left a lot to be desired. The only interesting bits were at the beginning, when Marina told Maddie that Danny mentioned she’d be by and Maddie replied that she must be mistaken because Danny was in Wisconsin visiting his godfather this weekend; and at the end when Maddie asked if they were having any trouble with pesky specters.
Did Maddie really believe in ghosts? And what about Bernard's grandmother? She hadn't seemed surprised by the question. The whole town couldnt believe in ghosts.
Tim suddenly realized he knew nothing about Danny's home life. Was it possible that Danny was the one holding Wes back from telling everyone about their relationship? Maybe Danny was afraid of his parents' reaction. He was around Wes’ age so he was probably technically an adult but lots of kids couldn’t move out of their parents’ immediately.
In the dining room, Mrs. Fenton’s tin of fudge was being passed around greedily.
“Mhmmm. Thushishshogood.”
“Mikey!” Linda chastised. “Close your mouth while you're chewing.”
“How is this so good?” Mikey asked dramatically after swallowing.
“I don’t know. She can’t cook anything else.” The youngest of the grandchildren, Sally answered bluntly in the way that kids do when they dont realize theyre being rude.
“I remember now!” Bernard came to Sally’s rescue before someone could chastise her too. “She ruined the church bake sale the year that Tommy Harkenson won best performance in the Easter Pageant.”
“Are you still upset about that Bernie?” His aunt asked in an amused tone. “You were a cute sunflower, but Tommy was the lead.”
“Mrs. Fenton put all the cupcakes through a meat grinder.” Bernard reminisced with a pleasantly confused face as if remembering something whimsical.
“Why?” Tim asked.
“She thought they were possessed.” Mikey answered with an eye roll. “They’re obsessed with ghosts, always running around trying to catch one to tear apart in their lab.”
“Shut up Mikey.” Wes hissed.
“You shut up.” Mikey spat back. “Like you were any better, chasing after the Fenton kid crying about how he was secretly-”
“YEAH, WELL I WAS WRONG.” Wes shouted, suddenly much louder than before. “SO MAYBE SHUT THE FUCK UP-”
“Wes.” his mother interrupted him in a barely raised but steely tone. “Thats enough.”
Wes opened his mouth as if to argue and then closed it again. Then he got up and stalked up the stairs.
“I don't know why he is so sensitive” Mikey muttered, but Tim wasn't paying attention anymore.
The rest of the night passed by in a haze as Tim’s mind churned the new information like ocean waves in a hurricane. It wasn’t until Tim and Bernard were back at the hotel that he finally voiced his tumultuous thoughts.
“Bernie? What Mikey said about the Fentons, the part about them trying to catch a ghost. What did he mean by that? They aren’t actual ghost hunters, right?”
“They are.” Bernard complained. “They call themselves like ecto biologists or something. They’ve been trying to catch one forever.”
“To dissect?” Tim verified.
Bernard shrugged.
“I mean I think so? They're a little bit kooky.”
“And they have a tendency to take that too far?” Tim asked, trying to get Bernard to see what he was getting at.
“Yeah. I mean they accidentally blew up a warehouse a couple years ago.” Bernard confirmed.
“And Wes tried to convince everyone that Danny was a ghost.”
“Oh.”
Bernard sat down heavily at the end of the bed and Tim plopped down next to him.
“You don't think.”
“I don’t know.”
Neither of them slept well that night. Bernard tossed and turned while Tim stared at the ceiling willing his burning eyelids to stay shut.
Sometime after one in the morning something very large crashed close enough to gently rattle the building but far enough away that it might not have awoken either of them if they had been properly asleep.
Without discussion Tim and Bernard both quietly slipped on their shoes. They were both used to Gotham weather, and it was warm enough that their pajamas were enough.
Tim wanted to leave Bernard behind, but he knew without suggesting it that Bernard would refuse. Bernie always hated being left behind. He always got this little frown between his eyebrows like he was confused as well as hurt. Tim knew it was for Bernards own good, but it didn’t keep him from feeling a pang of guilt every time.
They made their way out of the hotel and Tim pointed out a thin cloud of dust that went up from a spot he judged to be half a mile away like a plume of smoke. By the time they got close enough to tell where it was coming from the dust had already settled. Fortunately, it was hard to miss when they got close.
Tim pulled Bernard behind a low wall and they crouched just out of sight.
“Not so tough now, are you Welp?” an oddly mechanical voice coming from a glowing figure asked.
“What the?” Tim whispered to himself.
“A ghost!” Bernard whispered back, “That's one of their regulars I think.”
In front of the- ghost was a crater in the grass and, Tim realized after staring hard for a minute, another ghost on the ground.
“Danny!”
Tim watched in horror as Wes ran into the crater and sank to the ground next to the prone glowing figure, ignoring the obviously aggressive ghost.
He suddenly felt like he was the ghost, but not like these ghosts. Tim felt trapped. He was an unseen and unheard observer. He felt powerless.
Tim didn't have his gear. He didn't have his comm. He didn't have enough information.
Bernard's hand around his was grounding and after a second Tim could breathe again.
“Move aside human,” The ghost demanded.
“No.” Wes refused.
“No.” another voice echoed.
The body on the ground began to move and when it staggered to its feet it resembled a glowing teenage boy with white hair. An injured teenage boy, Tim amended in his head.
“No Danny! You can’t!” Wes yelled, pulling at his arm as if he could hold the other back.
“Bernard.” Tim breathed. “Is that really Danny?”
He didn't need Bernard's confirmation. Tim had training to recognize people who were disguised. A change of hair and eye color was nothing. Still, Bernard gave it anyways.
“Wes was right.”
Before Tim could think of a way to intervene in the fight without putting Bernard in danger Danny ran forward and tackled the other ghost. They both fell through the ground as if it weren't even there.
“No!” Wes screamed again. He ran forward and fell to his knees in the spot where Danny had vanished. “Danny! Don't you dare leave me!”
Tim felt his heart physically stutter in his chest.
“Go.” Tim whispered, nudging Bernard with his elbow. “He needs you.”
Bernard only hesitated for a second.
Tim watched Bernard pull Wes into a hug. Wes was too upset to even question why Bernie was here yet.
Tim felt sick. He felt cold and empty,
How many times had he done this same thing to Bernard? How many times had he left Bernard to go fight some villain without a real explanation? How many nights had Bernard stared into the sky like Wes was now and sobbed because he didn't know if Tim was alive or dead?
It was the right thing. Bernard didn't have training. He was a civilian. Tim knew all of the reasons it was better that way but- Why hasn't he made sure Bernard got updates? Or given him a comm? Or hell just made sure someone was there to comfort him?
Wes had Bernard to comfort him tonight. He had someone who knew what he was going through. But who did Bernard have when Tim left him? Is this what being a hero does to your loved ones?
He’d spent weeks preparing to meet Bernard's family, dozens of sleepless nights and countless hours of worrying about what they would think of him, but he hadn't spent even one minute of it considering whether he actually was good enough for Bernard.
Over the next week Bernard and Tim managed to get the story out of Wes, although Tim suspected it was still a highly abridged version. Tim listened numbly as he heard all the horrible details.
A horrible accident. A dead teenager. The fate of an entire town thrust on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old, forced to fight for both his own life and that of his peers.
The story was not grotesque because of the details, although they were certainly stomach churning. It was made doubly awful by the familiarity of the story. It made Tim think of the hall of heroes, there was an entire wing dedicated in the memorial for the junior heroes. Dozens of dead kids, child soldiers fallen in battle.
How many times had Tim almost joined the rank of eternal holograms? How many times had his teammates? His brothers? Forever frozen in time, a cautionary tale for future generations, an unwilling role model to future reckless children.
Tim didn't know how to fix things with Bernard. He didn't know how to make up for all his mistakes, He didn't know how to stop kids from fighting and dying. There was only one thing he knew how to fix right now, and it seemed like it was long overdue.
“Batman. I have a cuckoo code broken egg.”
B’s response came almost immediately.
“I’ll have agent A prepare a room.”