Chapter Text
Alfred had just left for a three-month vacation back to England. This would be his longest vacation in all of Bruce’s memory. His parting words had been a list of instructions for Bruce. A list that included: eating three meals a day (he had the tendency to get caught in his work and forget), making sure Jason did not stay out too late on patrol (Bruce was weak to the boy's puppy dog eyes), calling Leslie if he got injured (he attended med school he was equipped to handle his injuries), reaching out to Dick (he tried he truly did but he never knew what to say), and so on and so forth. Overall, Bruce felt like he could handle this, he was after all Batman. He had handled space invasions, leading the Justice League, and all that Gotham had to throw at him, he could totally handle three months without Alfred. Staring at the tiny black haired, blue-eyed child standing on the rooftop in front of him, Bruce had to admit Alfred maybe had a right to be worried.
Bruce had expected a relatively simple night of patrol. The only rogue out of Arkham at the moment was Riddler, and he was lying low as he regrouped his funds and men. Jason had decided to stay in for the night as he had an English exam the next day, meaning Bruce didn’t need to watch out for his safety. Dick was off in space with the Titans so while Bruce did worry for his estranged son he at least knew he had backup unlike when he was solo patrolling Bludhaven. All in all, the night was as peaceful as one could be when one is Batman. He had just finished dealing with an attempted mugging, the third of the night, and was taking an unplanned break on a nearby rooftop. He contemplated calling it early and heading home when his peace was shattered.
A bright flash of light has him whipping his head to the source. It appeared to come from two rooftops over, whereupon further inspection, the silhouette of a small person dressed entirely in black can be made out, half hidden by an air conditioner. Had Bruce been patrolling as normal, not drawn to inspect the roof due to the light, the person's attire, and location would have had him glancing past the roof, never noticing the figure. Gotham wasn’t a safe city, and ordinary citizens had to make sure they weren’t seen to avoid trouble, but the same was true for criminals. He couldn’t rule out whether this unnoticeability meant danger or not.
Silently approaching the figure, Bruce is saddened to see that they are a child. The boy can’t be older than ten, yet here he was out in Gotham at night. Bruce knows that Gotham has a large population of homeless children; he had, after all, adopted Jason off the streets, but it didn’t lessen the sadness whenever he encountered one. He tries to help them where he can, but too often they were wary of Batman, and even when they weren’t, so many had bad experiences with foster care that they didn’t believe him when he promised to find them a good one. Bruce was just about to make his presence known so as not to scare the child when he overhears his mutterings.
“Knew I should have used a different camera. Stupid plants breaking my camera, I wasn’t even that close to the fight.”
Bruce is stopped in his tracks. Although brief, the boy's words have some horrifying implications. A street kid wouldn’t have a single camera, never mind multiple cameras to choose from. If the boy isn’t a street kid, what was he doing on a rooftop at night? It also seems that the boy was regularly out at night. Plants combined with a fight could only mean Poison Ivy and Bruce had last fought her two weeks ago, ultimately putting her back in Arkham. During that fight, Ivy’s plants hadn’t strayed too far from the direct area of the battle, so the boy's claim of not being too close to the fight was highly doubtful. Bruce can feel a headache coming.
Clearing his throat loud enough that the child can hear him, the boy whips his head around. The boy stares at him with the widest of doe eyes. Bruce has to fight back his instinct to coo; he’s Batman at the moment, and opens his mouth to speak. Before he can get a word out, the child is off like a shot, darting to the roof's fire escape ladder. Unfortunately for him, Bruce is quicker. Grabbing the child by the nape of his hoodie, he holds the boy in place, trying his best not to harm him. The boy struggles fruitlessly in his grip for a bit before stilling.
“Ok, you’re ok,” Bruce says, softening his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. How does that sound? If I let you go, do you promise not to try to run off again?”
After a moment, the boy nods, and Bruce releases him. The child scrambles back a couple of feet, but doesn’t run. Standing close to the child, he is given a better view of him. The boy has blue eyes and black hair, not too dissimilar to Dick and Jason, but unlike them has incredibly pale skin. Something itches at the back of his mind, some familiarity, but he can’t put his finger on it. Around his neck is the mentioned camera, and with his proximity, Bruce can tell it is a rather expensive one. Not a camera that would be found on someone who lived in this area of Gotham, which begged the question of where the boy had come from.
“Alright there, bud, would you mind telling me who you are and what you are up to?” Bruce asks, crouching down to be on the child's level.”
“Tim,” the boy, Tim, responds curtly, offering no last name.
“Ok, Tim, nice to meet you. Are you from around here? It's awfully late for you to be out and about. I’m sure your adult is worried about you.”
“It’s not that late, I’m not a baby.”
Bruce would like to argue that point, staring at the small, wide-eyed boy, but doesn’t think it will be well received. He also notes how, once again, the boy did not fully address what he had said, brushing aside the mention of a caregiver. The alarm bells that had been going off in his head since first seeing Tim get louder.
“I don’t know about it not being late. You see, I was even about to head home. Why don’t you give me your address, and I can take you home. You could even ride in the Batmobile. How does that sound?”
“No. You just want to talk to my parents and get me in trouble.”
“I do want to talk to them, but not to get you in trouble.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Please, Tim, you shouldn’t be out here alone or this late. I just want to make sure you are safe.
“I said no. You are going to leave me alone, or I will tell everyone who you are.”
Shocked, Bruce stands silently as he can only stare at the tiny child attempting to blackmail him.