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It had been a really bad -not good at all- day for Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Well, maybe not a day in the traditional sense, more like the last 12 hours. First, him and Damian had a fight during an early patrol. It had been an early patrol because they had a gala to attend and, since they had been arguing, Two Face had managed to escape. That was pretty bad on a good day, B -from the gala venue- scolding them both for their sloppiness. But it wasn’t a good day, not at all.
They returned to the manor completely soaked from Gotham’s God-awful weather, having to change into their formal clothes at top speed to get to the gala on time. Then it was time to endure Bruce’s subtle scowl of disappointment whenever the guests were not paying attention. Not only that, but since it’s some Wayne Foundation special occasion they also had most of their sibling’s playful jabs to contend with. Jason (I’m still legally dead, thank you very much) and Steph (I’m not your daughter Bruce) were the only one’s missing. Dick had invited Barbara, and together with Cass and Duke were absolutely delighting in their misery. A pretty mortifying yet unremarkable night if it had ended there, but it didn’t.
Of course, Two Face had to show up at the gala for some reason. Tim was pretty checked out at that point, wallowing in self-pity, but he could have sworn he heard the rogue go on about how “We were so close, Bruce, did it mean anything at all to you?”. If he had to wager, something to do with Bruce’s inability to have a regular relationship with a regular civilian.
Sure, he had no proof that Bruce had dated Harvey Dent. And even if he had it would be before the whole Jekyll and Mr Hyde thing. But still, no one could deny that half the rogue’s gallery talked about Bruce Wayne as if he had divorced them and taken the kids, so he was allowed to be petty.
Everyone was frozen, Bruce caught between playing dumb as Brucie and trying to shield his kids. Dick had managed to cover both Barbara and Damian, which neither of them seemed to appreciate. All of the civilians were enraptured by Havey and Bruce’s toxic situationship drama, and Tim felt like maybe he should remind them to seek cover.
He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of dust and fire form Two Face’s explosive entrance. His hands felt sticky around the panic button in his back pocket, was he nervous? If he was correct, Red Hood would be in Crime alley which was at least fifteen minutes depending on traffic (and that’s if he wasn’t in the middle of a fight). Spoiler could be closer depending on which docks she was supposed to be checking. He could not, for the life of him, remember whether it was Dixon or Trinity place. Still, neither was too far away and she had taken Cass’s bike so they just needed to make time. Piece of cake.
He focused again on Bruce, trying to will his father to prolong the stand-off. He was giving his regular “This is not you Harvey” speech, which sounded even more fake once you’ve heard him use it on literally everyone else. Just last month he was saying the same stuff to a possessed Superman, and it worked! Worse part is Tim was pretty sure Bruce really meant it.
To his right he could see Duke’s face of “Are you hearing what I’m hearing?”. The kid appeared torn between enjoying the outrageous drama and fearing for his life; a natural first-timer’s response to the absurdity. Waiting until Two Face turned to the crowd for the next part of his speech, Tim gave his brother a reassuring pat in the arm. If Dick had survived more than a decade of Bruce’s scorned ex-lovers, so could they.
He was counting the minutes, and it looked like Barbara was doing the same. He wished he could ask Duke if his future-vision showed help arriving anytime soon, but he feared any sudden movements would set Two Face off. He had a lot of experience at playing the good civilian hostage, probably more than any of his siblings. He knew how delicate these things were, and trusted in Bruce’s ability to deescalate as Brucie. It wouldn’t work forever, but they only needed five more minutes tops. The spectators were starting to get nervous and he couldn’t blame them. He heard them gasp and tuned into the conversation just to see a gun pointed at him. Well, that couldn’t be good.
“The kids have nothing to do with this. Harvey, lower the gun please.” Bruce slowly put himself between the gun and Tim, and he felt unsteady.
Everyone was holding their breaths now, and Tim could feel himself begin to shake. He could deal with guns; he was constantly getting shot at as Red Robin. What he couldn’t deal with was Bruce’s watery voice, and his body shielding him from harm. He knew what it meant to Bruce: a dark alley, pearls on the cold pavement and the smell of blood. He wanted to scream at Two Face because how dared he?
He supposedly felt so betrayed by Bruce for what, not visiting him enough in jail? And his answer was threatening his family at gunpoint as if he didn’t know- Two Face tossed his coin, perfunctory glancing at the results.
“Fine by me, but only if you come with me. Now.” He growls the last part “And without a fight.”
Bruce immediately stepped forward, hands up, and Tim felt a little sick at how easy the decision is for him.
“Okay. Okay, I’m coming, please don’t-“
Bruce’s pleas are suddenly interrupted. Tim only has a second to prepare, and that’s only because he can see the way Duke tenses up. He knew something was coming, but he’d expected it’d be Red Hood or Spoiler breaking the floor-to-ceiling windows. Instead, Cass knocked Two Face out with a kick to the head. Before his goons could react, she trapped most of them under the massive curtains, making quick work of the rest. It’s efficient, and fast and oh, so incriminating.
They had about two minutes of shock and swift violence to look at each other. Dick’s jaw was close to the floor. Barbara had her face in her hands, in what could only be described as the world’s most heartfelt face-palm. Damian looked mildly jealous, and much more composed than a minute before. Duke, who had already had the time to process the shock, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the show.
Tim didn’t know how he looked in that moment. Probably like his spirit was about to leave his body. He remembered feeling lightheaded, the adrenaline cursing through his body without and outlet. He couldn’t join Cass in the fight. Sure, their cover was blown to smithereens, but years of training himself to react like a civilian couldn’t be unlearnt in an instant. Bruce appeared to be facing a similar conundrum.
Before either of them could decide on what to do, the fight was over. The show was back on and he could see Bruce’s face set into a determined stare. The “Batman look of business” that told his kids exactly what they needed to do: “follow my lead”. His determination suddenly fell to the most pathetic, ugly-crying face known to mankind. Only then did he turn around, rushing theatrically to his daughter.
“Oh my God! Cassandra baby, are you okay?” Brucie Wayne was back, and Tim allowed himself to fall to the floor like a civilian that had just been held at gunpoint would. Sometimes covers were convenient. “Darling, did they hurt you? Oh my god, that happened so fast!”
He felt his older brother drape himself over his crumpled form. He knew they were playing traumatized civilians, but it felt grounding in a way he needed at the time. Dick’s rough hands rubbed his back and Tim pretended to sob in his shoulder. It was more cathartic than he had expected. Duke joined the hug-pile and he could hear Damian’s soft “unhand me Gordon”, so everyone was accounted for.
“Are you actually okay?” Dick’s voice was a whisper.
He could have said it louder, it was something a scared civilian would ask his little brother. But he said it softly, tightening his embrace and suddenly Tim felt like crying for real.
“Yep, not my first rodeo.” He replied instead, because he wasn’t going to make this about himself. Even if his voice was cracking a little. Fuck “What the fuck Dick?”
“Wholeheartedly agree babybird.”
Duke barely had time to ask what they were supposed to do when Bruce joined them on the floor. He held Tim’s face up, trying to check for imaginary wounds and crying about how scared his poor baby must have felt. All the while, Cassandra stood sheepishly by his side. Like she hadn’t just blown their cover.
Hiding most of his face on Bruce’s shoulder he tried to communicate a strong “Girl, what the fuck?” to his sister with only his eyes. He knew she’d get the message; Cass could probably understand it better than if he screamed it at the top of his lungs. She gave him the tiniest shrug, and he could hear the sound of Dick slapping his own face. He almost wanted to inform Bruce that the show was over and he could stop pretending, but who was Tim to stop Batman from being optimistic? He could already hear the sirens because of course, now they arrived.
The rest of the disastrous gala became a blur of faces and police interviews. Tim hoped his dissociative-looking ass would convince the police, against all prospects, of his innocence. Someone put a shock blanket over his shoulders, Damian snickering subtly in the corner.
A couple minutes later it was the demon brat's turn to be thoroughly humiliated as Bruce talked over him in his police interview in account of how “Young and sensitive” his little boy was. He managed to cry on command, which was pretty impressive -probably something Dick taught him- and got a shock blanket and some candy for his trouble. Duke mouthed “Nice job” to him, and the demon brat responded with a well hidden middle finger to his brother.
As a fellow officer, Dick was allowed some dignity, being treated more in line with their in-costume testimonies. For someone else, toeing that line could have been hard, but Dick’s soft-spoken confusion could never be mistaken with Nightwing’s boisterous determination. Duke was so convincing, Tim had to mentally add him to the “very dangerous, don’t fuck with them” category of his brain. Barbara was succinct and effective; this was not the commissioner’s daughter’s first rodeo either.
“-I really can’t tell exactly what happened officer” The good thing about chronic anxiety was that it didn’t take much to get him shaking. “I was so nervous…I don’t think I was really listening to what happened?”
The officer they’d assigned to him was a middle-aged woman. Curly brown hair barely contained in a lose ponytail and kind brown eyes, he remembered her from the firefly incident a couple weeks back -Mara? Martha? Something like that. She had decked the rogue in the face when he almost got away and now here she was, all soft spoken and sweet. Good for her, she had the range.
“That’s alright Tim, your brother gave us the rundown” Her smile managed to land closer to encouraging than patronizing. “We were wondering about your sister’s part in subduing the attackers.”
Of course you’re wondering that. “I’m really sorry, I blacked out a bit when Two Face pointed the gun at me. Duke said she kicked him?”
“Oh yes,” the officer confirmed “in the head”
“That’s so sick. Sorry, that’s probably not appropriate.” He bashfully bated his eyelashes, averting his eyes like an embarrassed teen. She smiled at him.
“No worries kiddo, I’ve dealt with Ivy’s victims. Now that’s inappropriate.” Tim laughed at her exasperated tone, tell me all about it, he thought. “Now, does your sister do any kind of sports? Maybe martial arts?”
The image of Cass executing a picture-perfect take down on Bruce on their last training session came to mind. It was followed by a reel of “Cass’s greatest -literal- hits”. That was a little hard to explain so he settled for playing dumb.
“Oh, you know she does ballet and is into dancing a lot, you know? She does some martial arts too.” That part had come up in other interviews. “Muay thai? Jiu jitsu? I’m not sure, they look the same to me. I’m pretty sure it’s not sumo thought”
Officer very-cool-ponytail smiled at that. There were a few more questions, all of them pretty standard, and he was free to go. The woman managed to sneak him some candy with a knowing wink. It may have been just a tad patronizing but sue him, GCPD had the good stuff.
“Not fair, you got candy?” Duke sounded almost offended.
“I am the very traumatized victim that was held at gunpoint.” With his own smugness in the air, he threw the candy into his mouth. “Try again next time.”
Dick snickered as Duke feigned indifference. “Nah, they are racist man. You should know that Mr. Corporate Allyship”. Now they were all trying very hard not to laugh. It wouldn’t look proper.
On a different table, Gordon and his partner were interrogating Cass. Brucie Wayne, bimbo extraordinaire was mediating between them. Tim hoped that Cass’s lackluster English would work in their favor here. The more questions Bruce answered, the better. At some point Tim spotted Spoiler in a nearby tree, just at the edge of the window. The police didn’t have them in their field of view, but Tim caught her gesturing out of the corner of his eye.
“What the fuck happened?” signed Steph. Tim simply shrugged, this was on her girlfriend and her alone.
As the venue started to empty out, it became clearer that they were taking their sweet time. “Jesus at this point at least take them to the station” Barbara mumbled under her breath. Dick made a pained sound of agreement, trying to find a comfortable position in those horrible fancy-looking cheap chairs. Duke and Damian were dueling each other in some sort of mobile game, and couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge their siblings.
It was closer to 2 am by the time they let them leave. Alfred is waiting for them with the limo and Tim has never felt more grateful for being rich than when he sank in the comfy heated cushions. Damian stumbled on his legs and ate shit, much to Duke’s delight. Before violence could escalate, Dick intervened, sitting between them. He could barely hear the beginning of Bruce’s explanation to Alfred “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are-“when the separating window closed. Then everyone turned on Cass.
“That was crazy”
“Honestly Cain it is not fair of you to do such thing without consulting. I would have gladly helped-“
“Does Bruce have a plan? He must have a plan”
Tim tuned them out, resting his forehead on the window. Gotham had a certain charm through the tinted glass, streets blurring into one another. He allowed himself to finally open up the box where he had been pushing all of the day’s emotions. There were a lot, and he was soon feeling lightheaded with anxiety and grief. Bruce’s voice, trying to talk Harvey down from shooting him, kept echoing in his brain like a ricochetting bullet.
The tears felt warm in his face, but luckily none of his siblings made a comment. Dick leaned on him, his weight once again firm against Tim’s shakiness. The voices were more hushed now, the sound close to those asmr videos he found so relaxing. By the time the car’s engine turned off, his siblings’ chatter had lulled him to sleep.
Tim woke up in his own bed, which meant someone had picked him up and carried him there. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the hailstorm raging outside from his comfortable bed. Whoever tucked him into bed had remembered to use his weighted blanket and Tim was experiencing unheard levels of relaxation. At some point he would have to get up and face a full day of PR management, but not right now.
His room was a bit of a mess, but from his vantage point he spied a narrow trail someone had waded through. Jason and Damian refused to cross the threshold like some sort of order-obsessed vampires so, aside from the obvious reasons, they wouldn’t be responsible. There were only two real suspects in his silly investigation. Dick had been sitting next to him -cuddling him really- in the car, so it wasn’t a stretch to think he would carry his little brother up the stairs.
There was a second piece of evidence that pointed to someone else though: Bruce’s cologne, still lingering in the air. It was only natural for the big bad bat to be in a fatherly mood after last night’s high emotions. These moods rarely lasted long, and Tim felt a bit disappointed to have slept through it.
Bruce wasn’t an uncaring father, not necessarily. He wasn’t what most people would traditionally call “loving” either. He adored his children but had the emotional intelligence of a boomer trucker thrice divorced.
Tim still remembered each and every hug, few and far in between, but so heartfelt. When Bruce reached that boiling point, he was like a force of nature. Good bye Mr “Who need facial expressions?”, say hello to bruised ribs from hug-force trauma.
The veteran discount holders (Dick, Barbara and Jason) always said there was a before and after the Ethiopia Incident. Tim, as a thorough stalker, had his doubts about their claims of Bruce being a stereotypical 50’s sitcom dad, but he could agree he seemed more open. He was also, allegedly, way less dramatic whenever they had a near-miss. Worried, yes, but not hysterically so.
It was a natural evolution, Tim supposed, that realizing what an actual miss meant would make him go a bit crazy. He had been there for those first months, a child tasked with keeping a very unstable adult in check. There were a couple times, lungs burning from running after Batman, where he had felt scared.
Scared for Batman’s sake, for the goons and petty thieves. Even a little bit -just the tiniest smidge- for himself. It was silly, looking back. Whether in or out of the cowl, Bruce would never hurt a small boy. He could never admit his childish anxieties out loud, knowing his father would probably take it way out of proportion, self-flagellating for all eternity.
Nevertheless, even ignoring that, they had a rocky start. With his near adult insight, he could appreciate the actual insanity of his plan, and how impossibly stressed it must have made Bruce. The man was going through one of the worst depressions Tim’s ever witnessed after losing a child, and now an even tinier kid was following him around ,fucking up his -extremely unhealthy- coping mechanism. It was no wonder he had been closed off.
He would still have his fatherisms, because that’s not something you can turn off. But back them Tim had a perfectly alive -if slightly absent- set of parents, and he actually thought Bruce’s attempts to parent him were, for a lack of a better word, cringe.
Even now, a year and a couple months after being officially adopted, it was still hard to imagine Bruce as his dad. A dad? Sure, it was hard to deny, but his own father had been alive not too long ago. He had just come around the Robin thing. Batman had hugged him back them too, holding him as he thrashed in the embrace screaming and crying.
Yup, he’d managed to ruin a perfect morning and another wholesome moment with Bruce. Nothing new, if he thought long enough about anything he could always find a way to make it a) depressing or b) stressful.
With no small effort, he extricated himself from the covers to start the new day. It was a near instant regret, rushing to put on a couple more socks and his fleece Batman robe. Even the heated interior of Wayne Manor was too cold when compared to the inside of his bed.
He brought his tablet with him downstairs, fully prepared to be assigned press duty. He was the only real option asides from Brucie himself. Dick and Barbara were not public figures, and they didn’t even live in Gotham. Jason was, once again, dead, just as Stephanie kept her civilian identity well away from the Waynes. That only left the manor regulars.
Cass would only dig them a deeper whole to lay in, and Damian refused media training. It was a tragedy, since the kid was a great actor and everyone was a sucker for his adorable baby face. Duke was a master at playing the “I’m still a minor” card. Most they could get out of him was a twitter thread detailing the experience that would arguably make it worse. It could also make it better, but he doubted Bruce felt in a gambling mood.
The smell of freshly made French toast almost levitated him towards the kitchen. His stomach rumbled, rudely reminding him that he had no dinner before the gala, having planned on eating after the party.
When he finally made it to the kitchen, it was clear Alfred had gotten the memo. Damian was already demolishing his breakfast, Alfred (the cat) curled up on his lap enjoying some scritches. Alfred (the butler) was refilling Bruce’s coffee mug, and didn’t miss a beat pouring Tim’s. “Good morning master Tim, I hope you have rested well”.
Damian snickered something about sleeping like a baby under his father’s disapproving stare. “Now Master Damian, may I remind you Master Richard had to carry you upstairs too?” It was Tim’s turn to laugh, the brat’s face a new and innovative shade of red.
Tim grabbed some Frend toast, immediately drowning it in syrup, and a toasted ham and cheese croissant. The cheese was perfectly melted and the pastry warm and flaky, Stars was he hungry. He pointedly ignored Bruce’s gaze, obnoxiously shoveling food down his throat as was his God-given right as a teenager.
It was obvious he was waiting for Tim to join him in full PR Crisis mode, but Tim calculated that last night’s scare could probably buy him a few more bites before Bruce’s fatherly concern was overtook by practicality. Just in time, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I hope you’re feeling a bit better now” Tim hummed in response, refusing to give up chewing until strictly necessary “We should start discussing what our strategy will be.” A nod. “The press at least seems too concerned with how shocking it was to start throwing accusations, which is good. It means we can feed them our narrative before they arrive at their own conclusions.” Tim could tell he was starting to get annoyed. “If we’re quick enough, that is.”
“And what exactly is our narrative? These croissants are amazing Alfred. Did you make them?”
“Indeed master Tim, I had the dough in the refrigerator and thought you may need the strength for today’s trials and tribulations.” The butler was brewing some tea, a small smile at Bruce’s annoyance.
“That’s what I wanted to discuss” The man soldiered on, too used to his kids’ attempts at derailing conversation. “I revised the security tapes. Cass mainly used Muay Thai and capoeira, so those will be the only martial arts she has any training in. She does online training with the best tutors I can pay for” read, the best tutors he can pay to pretend to have trained her. “Just a regular civilian with some fancy training, snapping in a very tense situation.”
Tim munched what remained of his mostly disintegrated toast. “So classic deny, distract, deny strategy”
Bruce frown frowned. “That’s all I’ve got for now.”
“Iss not a’lot.” Tim drawled in response, being rewarded with one of Damians t-t. “Maybe we can spin it somehow? I know you keep trying to push the ballerina thing as her identity, but I don’t think it’s really going to work.”
Bruce rested his chin in his hands, looking for all the world like the tiredest dad ever. “I’m listening.”
“Well, maybe dancing is her hobby?” Tim started, gesticulating as if this was a Wayne Enterprises presentation. “She’s really good at it, you see, because her real passion is martial arts,” Bruce made a disapproving sound but Tim cut him off before he could interrupt “the two things are related. All this time she’s been training to achieve her dream of being a Muay Thai instructor.”
“A Muay Thai instructor.” Bruce parroted back to him, unimpressed.
“Yes, a Muay Thai instructor.” Tim repeated. It was not his fault his father was being dense. “Maybe a non-profit one, since Cassandra Wayne doesn’t need the money. That way she can help other poor civilians defend themselves from Gotham’s petty criminals.”
There was a considering silence as everyone in the room, with the exception of Alfred the cat, thought his idea through.
“It could work.” Bruce conceded. “We could even push the idea that the family’s constant kidnappings were the thing that inspired her to become a self-defense expert.”
“Which would make Cain’s intervention last night even more justifiable.” Damian held his chin between his thumb and index, hilariously mirroring Bruce’s thinking pose. “Congratulations are in order Drake, you managed to have an idea that doesn’t completely suck.”
“Owwww thanks tiny!” Tim hugged Damian making loud kissy noises as he pretended to shower in affection the younger boy. “Did it hurt you too much to say out loud?”
“Unhand me this instant! I swear sometimes you are even more cringe than Richard, Drake”
With Alfred’s chastising, both siblings stopped “behaving inappropriately at the breakfast table”. Duke chose that moment to enter the kitchen, halting to look at the scene. Tim with a red handprint in his face and a big smile, Damian with an annoyed huff and blushed cheeks. Bruce completely exasperated at the head of the table.
“So, what did I miss?”
Tim studied his options. He could wear the black dress pants or the slightly-different-black dress pants…so many choices. Bruce had vetoed his original outfit, so now he had to start all over and he had about twenty-seven minutes before Alfred came knocking for him. He groaned, smacking his head against the mirror. “You, better focus on the task. Now”, he pointed his finger at the cold surface. The other guy didn’t seem too impressed.
He decided to pick a top and start from there, which was in and of itself a task. Too many shopping trips with Cassie, Bart and Kon. He had narrowed it down to a couple of outfits by the time he hit the ten-minute mark, which was good time for him. A knock on the door stopped him in the middle of trying on option number 1.
“Come in. Unless you’re Damian”
An amused-looking Cass opened the door, eyebrow raised. “What did he do?”
“Exist.” Tim finished pulling the shirt through his head, fixing it inside his pants.
His sister didn’t seem too inclined to start the conversation, and he was running out of time, so he just continued checking his clothes. He switched belts, imagining how it’d look with different jewelry, before saving the mental image and switching outfits.
“I’m sorry” was the thing that finally broke the silence.
Tim turned on one leg to look at his sister as he finished putting on his shoes. The pitying look on her face seemed out of place on someone like Cass. But then again, it was pity, not contrition.
“Are you?” Tim fixed his collar and studied his appearance. “Or are you sorry for me?”
Cass gave some thought to that, and they were almost five minutes from fucking Bruce’s careful schedule up.
“I’m sorry you have to…” She paused, trying to find the word. “fix it for me. Civilian stuff is…I don’t care for it. You do.” Tim nodded along, encouraging her. “He was going to hurt you. Or Bruce. It is stupid I can’t help!”
Tim sighed; he could understand Cass’s frustration. She wanted nothing to do with her civilian persona and it prevented her from doing the only thing that matters to her: helping people.
“Look, first of all: which one, I’m running out of time” Cass dutifully pointed at the first outfit. Of course, she couldn’t pick the easy option. “Secondly…” his head got momentarily stuck in the turtleneck “I don’t really mind. Well, I do, it’s a stressful situation, but everything is stressful if you try hard enough.” Cass tilted her head in confusion. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I understand. Let’s not jump to worst case scenario, we may be able to fix it”
He had a couple minutes to fix his hair and put on cologne, which was more than enough. Stars was he good at quick changes, he could do drag if it weren’t for the whole -you know- everything else. Would an appearance in Drag Race help distract from the rumors or would it be more incriminating?
“What if you don’t?” Tim had to manually stop his brain and retrace his steps to remember what they were talking about. Cass looked a bit defiant, as if to say who cares? Tim cared.
“Well, if the family gets outed as vigilantes you can kiss all your cool gear goodbye. Yes, the bikes too” Before Cass could protest, he continued. “Maybe that skipped your radar but vigilantism is illegal. It doesn’t matter if we are heroes to the people, they will be forced to detain us.”
“We could scape” She stubbornly pointed out.
“Yes, but all our assets would be frozen. We have emergency stashes, but those won’t last forever. We would need to be constantly on the move, which would make resting and recovering a bitch. I know you’ve survived on your own, so have I!” He floundered, not knowing how to make it clear to Cass. “But that’s all it was: surviving. I want to live Cass, and I want to retire at some point. You will have to retire at some point too, bodies aren’t forever.” He didn’t like at all the dismissal in his sister’s face, but one problem at a time. “I’m not angry it’s just-“
Cass dropped her defensive stance, stepping closer to him with a worried expression. Good, if she’s not going to care for her, let her care for her family. She patted his arm, using her other hand to fix a rebellious piece of his bangs.
“I know, you’re scared.” At least she understood that. “I’m not…it’s good, you’re right. Just, not for me” She had the good sense so look a bit embarrassed. “I don’t want this, never did. And now I make it bad-worse!- for you. I’m sorry”
Tim hugged her, because he’d be dammed if Cass thought he was mad at her. He wasn’t it was just…a lot. The polite knock on the door reminded him that he had places to be, even if he’d rather stay here reassuring his sister.
“One sec Alfred!” He answered. “Look, I’m sorry that you have to put up with this too when you don’t even care. But it’s important for us, so please just…remember that. Gotham can’t be saved just with capes, the City needs us to do good work as civilians too.” Cass nodded as they separated. “Though if my plan works out, I think you may actually start enjoying the civilian thing.”
Cass scrunched her face in disgust. “Doubt it.” They both laughed.
Tim twisted his silver ring while the reporter finished talking with her assistant. She was pretty -gorgeous really-, bad news for him. If she had a high enough position to interview a Wayne for an exclusive, she was high enough to do TV. And if a beautiful reporter chose to stick with the printed -or digital- press instead of taking a highly lucrative spot as news anchor…they actually cared for their job.
It was great to see someone choose vocation over money or vanity, unless you’re a vigilante trying to PR your way out of losing your secret identity. Her smart green eyes studied him as she sat down with a pleasant smile. He was definitely in trouble.
“Good afternoon Mr. Drake, I’m Sarah Lee, but you can call me Sarah. I hope you find our couch comfortable.” She chattered, laying her tablet in her armrest. “New acquisition, since Joker’s last bomb-threat-extravaganza ruined most of our décor. I hope you can excuse us.”
Already bringing up other rogues to test his response? Or maybe a sincere excuse for the sad state of the building? He had though the hallways smelled of fresh paint, but hadn’t been sure. That one had been an “all hands on deck” kinda situation, but Red Robin was assigned to a completely different neighborhood.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s fine” He waved off her concern, whether fake or real “Just the lovely city we live in.”
“Speaking off… are you ready to begin?” Her hand hanged just above her phone’s record button. She hit it just as Tim nodded. “What a night yesterday, what can you tell us about the gala?”
“Beautiful venue, uncomfortable chairs”
“Now now, don’t play coy.” She chastised with a light chuckle that had color rising to Tim’s ears. Damm, she was really pretty. Kon was going to bully him. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s pretty relevant when you spend several hours sitting on one of those dammed chairs staring at the walls.” They both laughed, Tim giving his best press approved smile.
“Reports said the police didn’t let you go until much later, what was that about?”
Tim sighed, trying to express his upmost annoyance. “Honestly Sarah, who knows? They spent so long questioning poor Cass -my sister, Cassandra Wayne. Though I hardly blame them, you need to pull the words out of her with pliers” He shrug his shoulders “One would have thought she had killed someone instead of saving the night!”
“And what a savior she was. I’m sure you must have been in shock but, what can you recall?” Was she being patronizing or genuine? Good reporters were a very sneaky breed.
He allowed himself a minute to pretend to think about it, trying to play up his character. It was way too easy to fall back into bimbo territory. They’ve all been media trained by the brains behind Brucie Wayne, so playing dumb was their safety net. Problem was, Timothy Drake was no Brucie.
Dick had his average Joe persona, your standard issue cop. Hot and landing a little closer to the naïve side of things due to his optimistic nature. He was the kind of guy elderly neighbors described as “such a charming young man”. Duke and Damian didn’t need to have public personas, they were the teen and kid of the family respectively. They made appearance at certain public family events, much like Dick and Cass, but no one expected them to make a comment. If anything, Duke was adored for his charismatic and fun social media persona. Cassandra Wayne was a lovely yet introverted young woman, and the linguistic barrier was enough to deter most journalists. And then there was Tim.
Tim was one of the youngest CEOs in the country, expertly managing Wayne Enterprises for his adoptive father. Lucius Fox had once said to the press “Thank God for Mr. Drake, I had feared I would never retire with a clean consciousness if I left Bruce to his own devices.”
Timothy Drake was an entrepreneurial mastermind according to the press, too bright for Highschool. He could play dumb to certain aspects of his vigilante life, after all the public though he was nothing short of a sickly Victorian child.
His biggest stroke of genius had been pretending to have asthma, which combined with immunodeficiency, anxiety, and a couple weird allergies (most of them fake) painted the picture of defenselessness people wouldn’t expect in someone like Red Robin. He took advantage of his slender build, using clothes just a tad too big, in a way that made him look like a “pretentious cinephile virgin twink that only listens to Ethel Cain” according to Steph. “But you totally pull it off” she had added in an attempt to soften the blow.
People like Timothy Drake were not adrenaline junkies. Someone with his delicate constitution would be traumatized by the events of the night -if they didn’t happen every three months-, and someone that had only seen the inside of a gym in pictures wouldn’t probably recognize martial arts techniques. He could work with that.
“You see,” he started, not wanting to make her wait too much either. “I don’t remember a lot of the fight itself.” To her raised eyebrow he gave her a placating smile “One would think I’d get used to it, but the moment he tossed the coin while pointing the gun at me… well I blacked out for a bit”
“Understandable” Sarah barely tried to disguise the disappointment in her voice.
“I came to and she was like-“ He copied as poorly as he could Cass’s move “karate chopping the last criminals. Good use of those self-defense classes. Two Face was on the floor and Bruce was still trying to cover us. I don’t think he understood what was going on either.”
“Self-defense classes?” The woman lashed onto that part, like Tim knew she would. Her blond ponytail swayed behind her as she rushed towards her tablet.
“Yes, Cassandra has been doing those pretty much since she joined the family.” Now was the time. “You see, she’s not from Gotham. Her first week here, before the family announced her adoption even, Bruce got himself into another kidnapping situation. You know how it is” He waved dismissively at the air.
“Of course, she must have felt so scared!”
“Indeed. But more than that she felt powerless. We all tried to help her understand that, even if it’s dangerous, she shouldn’t worry too much about it.” Sarah nodded, leaning forward on her chair.
“That’s when Dick -you know, the oldest- thought of self-defense classes. Since he’s a policeman he taught her the basics. She loved it.” Nearly as much as the reporter was loving her exclusive. “Bruce, you know how he is, went overboard. I’m not entirely sure which classes exactly she took, but different forms of martial arts.”
“Like karate” Tim could visualize the headlines: Gotham’s own Karate Kid.
“Possibly. The one she liked the most was Muay Thai, that one I’m sure. She’s actually training to become an instructor. Would be a pretty awful brother if I didn’t remember.”
She gave him a cheeky smile “Oh don’t worry, I doubt most of our readers are half as busy as you and they probably can’t remember all of their sibling’s hobbies”
“Unless they’re only children, sometimes I miss it.” New pause for laughter. Stars this was taking long. “She actually wanted to do it for free”
“How charitable! Like any true Wayne”
“Yes, especially geared towards women and people with disabilities. According to her there’s a lot you can do despite certain physical limitations. I wouldn’t know, she tried to teach me once but sports aren’t my thing.”
“Of course, when could we be expecting this Wayne Family dojo?” That sounded so professional Tim had to do a double take. It felt almost rehearsed, kudos to her.
“She still has to finish her own training. Apparently, there’s a separate course to become a teacher or something like that. But since you’ve been such a nice host, I’ll let you know she was hoping for an early to mid-summer launch.”
“Thank you very much, I think that would be all. Unless you have some parting words of wisdom.”
“Get yourself a bodyguard sister, highly effective, would recommend. Thank you for having me.”
Sarah stopped the recording, and Tim allowed himself to relax a bit. They were finished, and he had managed to plant their narrative without getting too caught up in irrelevant stuff. The reporter hadn’t questioned his answers too much, but that could be a double edge sword. There was nothing he could do about it without overexplaining himself, a much more suspicious option. All that was left to do was hoping she wouldn’t try to spin it in a weird way.
He finished his glass of water, giving her a couple of curtesy minutes to check her notes in case she needed further clarification, but Sarah was looking at him. Oh no, bad news. “Never say anything off the record. It’s going to be very much on the record”. It wasn’t Bruce’s lesson, his mother’s voice an already distant echo in his memory.
“So Tim, between you and me,” here they go “what’s the real deal with Cassandra?”
It was a very delicate situation. He couldn’t just say nothing, that would be a statement in and off itself. He had been ready for hard questions, but off record conversations tended to create the most tergiversated rumors. So plan B -for Brucie- it is: play dumb.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Not that dumb “Is it because she’s a bit weird? Trust me, she’s lovely once you get to meet her. Just a bit shy, since she can’t speak that well.”
Sarah hummed thoughtfully, but it was just for politeness’ sake. Her eyes told Tim she already had her next question prepared. She was only pretending to listen so the conversation would look more natural, and not like the interrogation it really was.
“Of course, I’m sure she’s the sweetest. No, my curiosity comes from- well you see, we managed to get a hold off some security tapes.” Jesus fucking Christ how easy was it to get those? Maybe they were losing their time trying to hack the cameras “Some of my colleagues -body language experts, you know the kind- have pointed out a remarkable similarity between your sister’s moves and Black Bat’s.”
There it was. Journalists sure found the longest most convoluted way to not ask a question. And since it wasn’t a question, Tim refused to answer.
“I don’t think I follow. You’re saying she taught Cass how to fight?”
“Well, that’s a possibility, yes.” Good, as long as there wasn’t any definitive prove they could still make it work. “But we were thinking more in the line of her being Black Bat”
Her voice was deceptively casual, as if she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb on Tim’s lap. He pretended to be shocked, looking at the reporter like she was maybe just a tad stupid. “Cass?”
“It would certainly explain her abilities, don’t you think?” Well, at least that one was a question.
Tim had to think quickly. Pauses could be good in interviews when recalling information. They showed you had to think about it and therefore, it gave you some grace in case you got some details wrong. Stopping to think what should be an easy yes or no answer wasn’t a good look at all. Screw it, he thought, let’s go see what you truly now.
Tim laughed a bit in disbelief. “Sure, but that’d be a really far-fetched explanation. Next thing you’re gonna tell me that Bruce is Batman.”
Sarah laughed, a little shocked and clearly surprised. Good, they didn’t suspect Bruce.
“No, no, that would be too much. Can you imagine?”
“Not at all!” He laughed back, like they were actual friends having a regular conversation. “That’s what I’m saying. Oh my- Cass? Are you suggesting my sister sneaks out of bed to go what? Fight crime in a leather fursuit?” Tim shook his head. ”No offense to Batman and his flock of birds of course, they’ve saved me enough times already, but you have to admit it’s pretty silly.”
In a pitch, turning an outrageous accusation into a joke could work wonders. Acting defensive, no matter how justifiable, will only call into question why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s a bit of a dammed if you do dammed if you don’t kind of game, and the only way to win was not playing at all.
“Well, you have to admit Brucie doesn’t seem like a hard to bypass dad.” Tim made a non-committal noise, but she barreled on “You know what? let me tell you my silly conspiracy theory and you tell me what you think about it.”
Just when the conversation couldn’t get any crazier… This was the point where the daring reporter outlines her accusations, full of “allegedly”s and other legalities while also underscoring all the evidence they have against you. He had heard enough Lois Lane anecdotes not to know the set up was over, it was time for the coup de grace.
“Now, circumstantial evidence is pretty telling but I doubt we would find any actual prove. If Bats were sloppy, we would have figured them out by now, right?” Well Tim, Cass and Duke had all figured out Bruce’s secret before 18. “We also know, even if we can’t technically prove it, that Jason Todd-Wayne was robin.”
Okay, this was starting to look really bad. Well at least they don’t seem to have any real proof, supplied his brain helpfully. It could be worse.
“Mss. Lee, I don’t mind baseless speculation, but bringing my dead brother into this is going a bit too far, don’t you think?” The reporter recoiled a bit, but didn’t seem too upset by the slap in the wrist.
“Of course, it would be in terrible taste to run an article on that whole thing. That’s why we haven’t done it.” Well, that and the Wayne lawyers for sure. “The timelines line up perfectly though,” of course they did “it’s a popular enough belief.”
If she wanted to play True Crime podcaster, Tim was going to play True Crime podcaster. Don’t bring up the timelines to the world’s greatest detective unless you’re ready to be schooled.
“Well, it may fit for him -I wasn’t adopted yet so I don’t know the details- but it wouldn’t for Cass.” Check “I remember Black Bat when she was still Batgirl, and Cass wasn’t even in Bruce radar back then.” Mate.
He had about .02 seconds to enjoy his slam-dunk argument before realizing how unfaced Sarah was by it. If she had anticipated it-
“Of course,” they were screwed, how on earth could you explain Bruce adopting an stablished vigilante without putting the dots together? “that’s why we think someone put her on his radar.”
“Someone?” Why was he left to deal with this alone? Sure, Brucie was making a TV appearance at this exact time but damm.
“Someone like Batman.” There it was. “We think your father’s ex may have-“
Scratch that.
“I’m sorry, what?” he hadn’t seen that coming at all.
The woman remained calm, giving him a knowing smile, as if they were both in in some joke. Tim certainly wasn’t getting it.
“I know you can’t make a comment on it, but come on!” She laughed a bit and Tim struggled to follow her lead. “Everyone knows Gotham’s Prince Charming and Dark Knight were a thing. That’s why Jason, sorry to bring him up again, was robin: they were co-parenting.”
Tim had to keep himself from nodding along because as juicy -and convenient- as her theories were, he was better trained than that. Sarah soldiered on, almost expecting his guarded reaction.
“And then came the divorce era, for obvious reasons.” How come Barbara hadn’t clocked these wild conspiracies? Did she just think they were funny? “Brucie pushed Batman away, and the vigilante could no longer protect his ex-lover like he used to.” The Telenovela of it all, Jason was going to love this. “So, after a couple years of constant kidnappings and bomb threats he needed someone in Brucie’s circle to make sure he was safe.”
The way the story was unfolding, Tim could tell how it was going to end. He covered his mouth in what he hoped looked like a thoughtful expression so he wouldn’t laugh. He couldn’t bring himself up to interrupt Sarah’s passionate monologue. That woman was smart, yes, but she was trying to solve a puzzle with the wrong pieces.
“Enter stage Cassandra Wayne” So dramatic, he was starting to like her more now that the professionalism was long behind them. “No previous records of existing before the adoption, barely any record after that too. Someone passionate enough to become a self-defense instructor, all because she wants to keep her family safe.”
Suddenly it was crystal clear why she hadn’t pressed him in any of his answers. He had accidentally fed her own personal theory. Confirmation bias was a real bitch. Sarah looked triumphant, and Tim had the grace to pretend to think about it for a couple of seconds.
“Riveting story, but there’s something I don’t understand.” Many things actually, but she didn’t need to know about those. “Why would Bruce want to adopt another kid from Batman after, according to you, they lost their first shared child.”
“No offence, but your father is not a particularly bright man”
“None taken, we had to put stickers on the glass doors so he would stop running into them” Tim easily agreed.
“My theory is that he doesn’t know she is Black Bat. He looked genuinely shocked about his daughter’s abilities in the CCTV footage”
So, no one suspected Bruce. They apparently didn’t suspect Dick either since she hadn’t corrected him when he called Jason the first shared child between Brucie and Batman. Given her attitude towards him, he was most likely off the hook too. The whole conversation had the vibe of a friend telling you she’d seen your sibling in a date with someone. That was good.
“Honestly Sarah,” he chose to approach it from the casual angle. “I don’t know what to say to you. It’s certainly really interesting story, but as you yourself said before: I can’t really comment on this”
She nodded understandingly “No one expects you to make an official comment, of course.”
“I know you don’t mean it that way, but these are some really wild accusations.” It was time for his favorite part: thinly veiled legal threats. “I mean my father has enough political enemies as it is to have some unfounded rumor about his kids floating around like that.”
“Oh, it’s really not-“ She floundered a bit “besides it’s not about his kids, just Cass. No one is saying you’re Nightwing, no-offence but you run out of breath taking the stairs.” Ouch! He had only been half pretending to be out of breath, but okay. “And we all know how protective Bruce is of his little ones, I doubt he let’s them out of his sight much.”
Great, confirmation that only Cassandra was under suspicion was good. Her tone had the same incredulity to it as when he had joked about Bruce being Batman.
“Cass is one of her kids, only girl too. One that hasn’t left the country since she was adopted, mind you, while Black Bat travels the world. It would be just a matter of using our own CCTV to prove she was at home while the vigilante was out and about doing her job.” He pointed out. “Vigilantism is illegal, and I don’t think Bruce would take kindly to an accusation being laid on his daughter. No one in the family would.”
For the first time in the whole interview her façade of confidence was slipping a bit. He had not given her any real munition for her theories, he had given a perfectly natural explanation to Cass’s little outburst, and he had reminded her -a tad ruthlessly- that she couldn’t go anywhere with her allegations. Especially not when they were ready for her. She played her hand, but a Wayne always has an Ace up their sleeve. Usually from a Joker fight, but that’s irrelevant.
“Look: you have your story, an exclusive sneak peak of my sister’s future ventures. It’s better if we keep my father’s alleged ex out of it; yes?” He started to rise up from the, admittedly, very comfortable couch and shaking her hand. “You’re a brilliant reporter Mss. Lee, it would be a shame to ruin your reputation writing about outrageous theories with little to no base.”
“Sure thing, it’s all off the record.” The slight raise in pitch and speed showcased her anxiety, self-preservation finally kicking in “Like I said, I was just sharing my pet theory. We have no evidence for it and I would hate to see your sister get in trouble for any of this.” His sister and herself.
She walked him to the door, all politeness and smiles. Tim almost felt bad for pulling the lawyer card, but this was the kind of thing you couldn’t let fly even as gossip. No matter how it seemed to exempt most of the family, it would probably be even more suspicious if the Waynes were suddenly okay with letting one family member be accused of vigilantism.
“Look,” She started one last time when they reached the door, barely a whisper “Black Bat was the one that evacuated our building last week. She’s a hero to everyone in Gotham and the world in general. I would never make any real accusation like that. Even if I had the evidence. I know it’s hard to believe for a journalist, but I have morals.” It was indeed, a bit hard to believe, but she sounded genuine. “As a reporter I care about finding the truth, but as a Gothamite I respect our vigilantes.”
Whether the sentiment was genuine or just a ruse to get him to drop his guard, he wasn’t going to let it work. He hoped it was real, they could use a bit more good press for the Bats, but it was irrelevant to the current conversation.
Tim gave her his best confused smile. “I’m sure they’d really appreciate it, but accusing innocent civilians to protect your heroes is not the way to go Mss. Lee. I’ll ignore it this once, since you seem so passionate about it. We can all act a bit unwisely when it comes to the things and people we love.”
Her beautiful green eyes blinked at him as the realization dawned on her: the young man in front of her must have no idea at all of what she was talking about. Sarah’s embarrassment was good news for Tim, since it meant she was rethinking the validity of her theory.
There was still a chance she would continue to think Cass was Bruce’s Bat-assigned bodyguard and he was just her silly civilian brother, unaware of the real truth. But he had planted the idea of there being proof of Cass being in a different place at the same time Black Bat saved the day. It was easy enough to fake, and by the time someone was bold enough to ask for it, they’d have it ready. The stairs were easier to tackle on with the relief of a job well done.
The door to the Bentley open and closed roughly as Tim practically threw himself inside the vehicle. Trust rich kids to not appreciate an engineering marble, Duke thought to himself. Alfred had picked him up from Izzy’s on his way to the Gotham Gazette, were Tim languished.
His brother had been tasked with helping Bruce fix last night’s craziness as the two public figureheads of the family. Duke was pretty sure Tim preferred to be left alone fixing budgets, but that was the price of being CEO.
He had offered to do a Tik Tok saga explaining the whole thing, but Bruce had seemed about ready to jump the building at his idea. He had settled on a “Maybe after the story break champ” which was Bruce talk for “please, please, I’m beging you just stay put”.
Tim had been the sacrificial lamb, PR-managing for all of their sins. To be fair, Duke hadn’t been involved in any real scandal yet. Sure, he beefed with Luthor on twitter but, who didn’t? Even official superman called him Mr. Clean once (although that had probably been Jon using his father’s phone).
“How was it?” He asked casually to the mop he now called brother, barely glancing from his twitter feed.
“Ugh”
“Eloquent” Duke sneaked a photo for the group chat, considered posting it to twitter “on accident”, but finally deciding against it. Tim had enough problems as it was.
“Please master Tim, fasten your sit belt. This is not the Batmobile” Alfred chastised the older teen and Duke couldn’t help but snicker.
Tim managed to right himself, looking like something the tide had drag in. Duke was sure he had looked very composed and elegant five minutes ago, but now only a hollow husk remained. He felt bad for him, neither him nor Bruce really enjoyed playing their characters, both introverts whose social batteries barely got them through civilian duties.
Bruce’s case was easier to understand: Introverted through and through; while Tim’s mileage seemed to vary wildly. Duke liked to pay attention to these details, completely fascinated with how his siblings managed their different personas and who was the real person behind them. He had a long way to go yet, but the picture slowly painted itself.
“Did you know” Tim started after recovering “that people are convinced Brucie Wayne and Batman dated?”
“Well duh. It’s the only logical explanation.” Duke finally looked up from his phone to stare at Tim’s sincere incredulity.
“But it’s not? If you’re trying to connect the dots, why would you assume they’re dating instead of coming to the right conclusion?”
“Because they don’t have all the dots?” Tim seemed baffled. In all fairness, both of them had figured out Bruce’s secret identity at a very young age. “Look, clearly you’re not on the Gotham Conspiracies reddit.”
His brother made a face. “I stopped using reddit years ago. Seeing so many people be so confidently wrong about everything wasn’t good for my blood pressure” Duke could see that, Tim had a medical lack of chill. “Does Barbara allow this?”
“Dude, she’s one of the moderators.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “You should see your face right now.”
Tim frowned slightly as if thinking about something. Duke let him figure it out, opening a Tiktok Izzy had sent him in the meanwhile. It was one of those “this is us” memes but it was an old timey picture of a frog and a toad that had been yassified. He snorted, sending some stickers in return.
“Hold on,” and it looked like Tim had finally figured out whatever he was figuring out “Are there any conspiracies on us being vigilantes?”
Duke should probably feel proud of Tim for being so disconnected from social media. Right around when he joined the family, he had been banned from doomscrolling for mental health reasons, and clearly he had taken it to heart. But it was also a bit funny considering how paranoid he usually was. Maybe Babs had manually blocked him from any threads that could worsen his anxiety? That would actually make a lot of sense.
“There are some rumors, particularly that Brucie and Batman co-parent some of us.” Tim made a strangled sound. “But most of those had been shut down. One time I saw someone post that I could be The Signal so I used my second account to ruin their life.
“You should have seen it!” Duke continued cheerfully despite Tim’s paleness. “I was like ‘Oh, Bruce adopts a black kid so he must be the black vigilante? Just admit all black people look the same to you racist!’” He laughed “She was booed out of the server and all of those performative bitches tagged along like, ‘They don’t even look similar lmao’. Babs and I had a blast.”
Tim looked like he wanted to blast his brains out, but after a minute he broke laughing too. He shook his head in disbelief, unable to stop the giggling long enough to speak. Duke patted him in the back before remembering that was for choking, not laughing fits.
“You know,” He finally managed “I keep telling Bruce you’re a PR genius. He should have trusted you with this nonsense”.
Duke beamed, enjoying the praise. Maybe that could be his job one day: Wayne Enterprise’s Public Relations and Crisis Manager. He had considered it before, but watching Bruce join them in the car like some sort of sopping wet cat, he found a new determination within him. He could save Gotham by daylight, and he could save his family from having to talk to reporters. At this point Duke couldn’t tell which sacrifice was nobler, just that both were very, very, needed.