Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as inconsistent as his parents’ digs are, and when they come home, he can say they stay consistent in how many times a year he should expect to see them(never more than five). Last year it had been three, now in May of the next year, he’s seeing them for the first time since last June. Tim usually isn’t surprised when they make their grand return; he often would track their flights every day. However, he hasn’t had much time or thought on that as of late, focusing on his vigilante life as much as possible.

So with that being said, on the second Saturday morning when Tim drooled on the couch in his living space on the second floor, he startled awake at the sound of the door opening. His mother's voice was light, tired, “Timothy! Where are you?! Come help us with our bags!”

Tim threw himself off the couch and quickly ran to clean up the mess.

“Timothy?!” Her voice had gotten closer.

“Yes! Yes, coming! Just one moment!” He threw the cover on the back of the couch and hid the gaming console, then ran for the stairs.

Tim knew his parents better than they knew him(that’s fine); he already knew that his mother was in a fine mood from the way the door had opened and how her voice didn’t send chills over him. He still fixed his hair somewhat and smoothed his pajama shirt, but he didn’t fret too much about his appearance since he knew she wouldn’t scold him too much.

If anything, she’ll scold him for still being asleep at ten in the morning.

He walks calmly the rest of the way down the stairs, Janet is waiting there.

Her hair is longer than he remembers. She colored it, too. Her skin is certainly more tan than Tim’s is-always has been- but completely unblemished. When Janet looks at him the corner of her lips turn into a frown, “Timothy, were you still sleeping? It’s…” checking her watch, “Ten, now. Much too late to be sleeping.”

“I was going to shower, Mother.”

“Hmm. Very well. Go put on your shoes and help your Father-wait.” She stops him just as he’s brushing past her. For a second, he thinks that she’s going to hug him, tell him that she missed him, just like she’d done when he was little and he’d come running up to her.

“My little gentleman, remember, no running in the house or you might break something.~” Poking his nose.

She moves closer and squints her eyes, reaching a hand up to his hair. “Timothy. Why is your hair this long? When is the last time you’ve had a haircut?”

“I had one two weeks ago.”

She frowns harder. “It certainly doesn’t look like it.” Using one hand, he brushes back a part of his hair to show the still-fresh fade of his undercut. Janet sees it, not satisfied with it at all. “Hmm. Kids these days. Where did you get this idea? Has Gotham Academy been allowing exchange programs again?”

“Exchange programs?”

“You know, for those… ethnic …kids?”

“ Mom?!” Just barely below a shout.

“Oh please. Don’t be so sensitive. Whatever,” she sighs. Heading for the new viewing hall. “Keep your street rate hair cut if you want, but I’ll warn you now, Timothy. If I hear a single disdained remark at tomorrow's Gala, I will personally drag you to get a new hair cut. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good.”

____________________________________

Gotham Botanical Society’s Garden Gala, formerly hosted by Isley Enterprises before Jason’s time as Robin, is now funded by other local conservation societies with the help of donations from over the years. The last time the gala was held, it had been when Tim was six, still too fidgety for Janet to want him to come. Though she brought him anyway because other than not liking his suit, he was well-behaved. Well-behaved children are a sight to see in front of elderly, rich patrons. To this day, he can remember being passed along every which way and cooed over; he can also remember how satisfied his parents were with the connections they had made.

His parents expected no less this time again.

Apple juice in a champagne glass in one hand, he kept an open smile on his face and shook the hands of other families he knew too well, yet not at all. Following behind his parents wherever they went. Jack and Janet networked with people like experts(they are), owning the stage where they belonged while Tim stood in their shadows. From time to time they would bring Tim forward, informing the person they were talking to all about their son’s accomplishments.

“And how old is young Timothy going to be this year? I have a granddaughter around his age, you know.”

“My boy’s going to be a whopping thirteen this year! Can you believe it, son?”

Not really since I’ll be twelve in July. He smiles instead, “Time flies by.”

“Yes it does-so smart, he is.”

Tim drifts out of the conversation and goes through the motions that he’s conditioned to, a part of him wondering when Bruce would be making his rounds to them. He’d heard the man’s loud laugh some time ago, he knows he came on his own because Dick just left for a mission at Belle Reeve penitentiary, he’s frustrated for sure but there’s nothing he could do. This is the first gala he’d be attending since the death of his son, the perfect opportunity to gain support for the foundation like he promised Pamela.

“Jack and Janet Drake!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Brucie Wayne sauntered over, smiling so bright it outdid the chandelier above them. Tim’s parents greeted Bruce as if they were old friends, and then Bruce gave the same warm smile to Tim and made him feel all sorts of warm inside. “The infamous Timothy Drake, what a pleasure to see you again, son.”

They shook hands. “Mr. Wayne.”

“You know,” Bruce slurred just a bit. “I am so glad to see you three tonight. There was something I wanted to discuss if you have a moment.”

His father latched onto the invitation like a leech. “Sure, Bruce, why don’t we step this way, huh? I heard the shrubbery was to die for, may as well hit two birds with one stone, eh?” Both men laughed while Janet put a hand on Tim’s back, ushering him along.

When there were fewer people around, Bruce got to business. “See…after the death of my youngest, I had a conversation with my eldest, Dick. Just recently, he graduated from the police academy, and I couldn’t be prouder, but he expressed to me that, unfortunately, he has no interest when it comes to running my company.”

Janet’s fingers dug just slightly into the back of his jacket. “I see, that is quite disappointing, isn’t it? We as parents work hard for our children, setting up their futures. It’s frustrating when they don’t accept our help and carry on our hard work. It’s a good thing our son is so good to us. I would cry if he said something like that to me or his father.”

“Yes, though there is nothing more that I can do on that end. Dick is twenty and has his mind made up as of now, I don’t see it changing anytime soon. Which brings me to what I wanted to speak with you both about.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled-up list, making a point to flatten it and then held it up to the light, double-checking. “Yep, this is it.” Passing it along.

Tim couldn’t see what his parents were seeing-still too short. Clearly his parents didn’t know what they were looking at, so Bruce explained. “It took some time and thought, I decided I might want to branch out to the younger kids and offer an internship to those that might fit the company, see if they would have a place therein one day. I spoke to some of the board members and the staff at Gotham Academy, Lucius drafted an essay for some of the students to complete. The board went through them and these are the children they recommended to me, as you can see, Timothy is listed, too.”

“Jack, do you see this? Timothy is listed third.”

“Well that’s not nearly high enough. Remember, we received his report card? His GPA is excellent, and he’s skipped grades already. Why are Edward and Norman's children listed before ours?”

“This must be some mistake, Brucie. Our Timothy is more exceptional than any of the children on this list. He should be number one.”

“Now, Janet,” calming them down. “Jack, there’s no reason to be upset. The order they’re placed means nothing; it’s only a list.” Neither adult believed him, though they didn’t argue it, he continued. “But yes, Timothy is exceptional from the reports I received. The board was very impressed with the essays, but more so with his. I will reach out to the other families' children with similar contracts that involve integrating young minds into my company and setting up for a potential future there….however…”

“However?”

“The board was so impressed by Timothy’s essay that I actually ended up reading it myself!” Pulling a laugh from the two Drakes. “Jack, Janet, you have a remarkable son! I was so impressed, I talked to Lucius and he agreed to offer a special internship for young Timothy here.”

“Special?” Janet asked with absolute interest. “As in…”

“Different from the other children's.”

They didn’t say, but Tim knew both his parents were more than happy to hear those words, because both placed a hand on either of Tim’s shoulders. A thing they do when he does something amazing (crazy thing is, he never wrote any essay).

“The other children will have placements in other parts of the company-software, research and development. But for your son, I would love to have Tim study directly under myself, Lucius Fox and the other heads of my entire team.”

“Really!?” Jack laughed, excited. “Under you? Our son?”

“Jack, Janet. I see a bright future for Timothy in my company, if you would allow it.”

“Honey?” Jack looked at his wife. “What do you think?”

Janet Drake is, by all purposes, a shark in a sea of fish. There’s a reason Drake Industries wealth and position in high society rocketed after her takeover of the company. Calculative, cunning, and charming. His mother is blood thirsty and not so easy to take bait. The reason Jack asked for her opinion first.

Bruce is also a talented actor and Batman. Tim knew that Bruce knew that out of the two Drakes, it would be Janet that he’d need approval from. Tim saw the way Bruce had set this whole thing up. Showing a list(competition), placing Tim further from the top(incentive), and singling Tim out from the rest(pride). They were appetizers leading to the main course, a direct shot at being the next CEO in Wayne Enterprise, right on a golden platter(power). The board is impressed(networking), Bruce is impressed(overachieving), all that was needed was her approval and Drake industries would have an increase in influence in the near future, even if the board members didn’t chose Tim, he would sure definitely have a spot among the senior leadership if he had an early start(which he does, he’s eleven and has a leg up because of it).

She’d be stupid to decline, which is not a word someone would use to describe her. Tim is not at all surprised when she curls her fingers on the back of his neck and gives Bruce a kind smile, as red as the blood of the people she bites for a living. “This is such a generous offer, how could I say no? Our Timothy is a good boy, of the children on that list, he’s the one who deserves this chance the most. I’m so glad that you see that, too.~”

Bruce is elated, “Wonderful! If you’d like, I can send the documents to you now.” Already pulling out his phone.

He does just that. Then, for the next half hour, Tim is forced to silently wait while his parents read through their phone together with their lawyer, who also happened to be present that night. It’s an airtight document from what Tim can make out; his parents still ask some questions, though there are no hiccups until they get to clause forty-three.

“What does this mean, Victoria?”

Their lawyer reads it and hums. “This allows a guardianship role to be awarded to Mr.Wayne.” She explains it simply. “Wayne Enterprises is in the heart of the capital, it is the most influential building, and young Mr. Drake will be working under its CEO. It is a cautionary clause for your son so that in the case that something were to happen that there is an adult available to make decisions on Mr. Drake's behalf. In the case that neither parent can be reached, or another guardian, Mr.Wayne can step in and fill that role.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s reasonable. You are both out of the country more often than not, and Mrs. Mcllavine is only one person. Mr.Wayne is a valued member of our community. He is a trustworthy adult, and from the looks of the document, it seems that he is considering your son and his school life very carefully. It would be…” she sends a quick look at Bruce, who’s sitting on the side, tie done loose and a flush to his skin “.... beneficial to you both if you had another person in Gotham with the ability to act as a guardian.” (You both are never here with your son; throw the responsibility on someone else.)

The names Jack Drake and Janet Drake are signed in a neat cursive over the signature boxes and sent back to Bruce’s email.

Officially, Bruce Wayne is now a trusted adult who may make decisions on Tim’s behalf. That includes, but is not limited to, signing forms, picking him up from school, taking him to doctor's appointments, etc.

Tim vows that night-after receiving hugs and a kiss on his forehead, tucked into bed by two proud parents-that he will do his best to make sure that Bruce never has to use that power.

Ever.

Chapter Text

School ended as quickly as summer came, he passed his classes with flying colors so he didn't need to take any exams, giving him a whole extra week of freedom. 

The worries of last year are now gone.

Tim packed his bags the second day and left Drake manor; as far as Mrs.Mac knew, Tim would be taking a two month long vacation with the Waynes and would return right before his birthday(Tim wasn't given the chance to lie to her because Bruce communicated to her and sent an email to Tim's parents). And it wasn't exactly a lie in itself, he would be taking a vacation of sorts, just that he'd be spending that time training with a highly skilled assassin in Asia that Bruce hired.

Sandra Wu-San.  

Bruce had let Tim comb through her files one night. Specifically he had to put in the ‘parental code’ that locks Tim out of the more gruesome files, the name Sandra was located in the files marked as ‘S-Class’(Files that Tim hadn't seen to this day). 

Simply put….she's dangerous.

In ranking she's only two people away from Ra's Al Ghul. She's traveled the world, taking on mercenary jobs, etc. Her skillset was so high that apparently it had taken a non-lethal, lucky shot, knock to the back of her head to keep her from trying to kill Bruce during an interrogation by Jason.

She specialized in hand-to-hand combat, weapons master, and Martial arts grandmaster. She could read someone's body language and determine their next move. Someone so deadly that she also worked in close association with the League of Assassins and is known to go against them, too.

“Lady Shiva is dangerous, she works both sides as she sees fit.” Bruce explained. “But she is someone who respects a contract. I've paid her to train you, and she will.”

“Okay.”

“Lady Shiva does not accept all contracts but she is a popular teacher. As a favor, she will have a special place she trains you and a place you sleep, but remember this Tim, you are not the only trainee on that island. You will be away from others and she will keep them away from you, so you had better not go seeking them out, do you understand? And you will always wear your mask. I cannot be on the island except for check-ins, she will not allow it. I have to be able to trust you to follow these rules. Can I trust you?”

“Yes.”

“And Tim?”

“Yes?”

“This is not the place for you to be curious. So don't .”

Dressed as Robin, he was small beside Batman when they exited the Batplane on the beach of an Island so remote, Tim wasn't sure of its name. The sun had disappeared forever ago so Tim could see the stars that would be difficult to see in Gotham's polluted city, it was humid, but the breeze from the sea brushed his hair and beneath his cape to keep him cool.

Standing at the head of the beach…pictures could do no justice to the woman awaiting them at the end of the dock.

Short, black hair, eyes so sharp he felt them pierce through him with a single glance. She dressed in black and red, body relaxed and weapons of all shapes at her side. “Batman.”

“Lady Shiva.”

“This one is small.” Tim couldn't tell if she was judging him or scolding Batman, maybe she just wasn't impressed?

“So it seems.” Batman dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Though I believe you'll find Robin….your most special student.”

“Those words are as ominous as they are confusing, Batman. Should I be excited or terrified? ” Not indicating her feelings were inclined either way. Tim did pick up a quick look at him- curiosity , he thinks.

“You will find out soon enough.” Batman squeezed Tim's shoulder, looking down at him. “Robin.” Remember what I told you.

“Yes.”

______________

Tim trains well, and he trains hard.

Bruce's way of training him had been careful in the beginning-learning defense before anything. He taught Tim how to block, when to block and when to run. He taught him the vital points which would allow him to escape quickly and efficiently and how to slither out of someone's hold. Bruce used realistic, non-lethal, guns to teach him how to escape the line of a bullet and how to disarm someone with all types of weapons in hand. Only when Bruce felt comfortable did they begin counter attacks, and allow Dick to begin integrating acrobatics into the mix.

Where Bruce taught him how to survive and escape, Lady Shiva teaches him how to dominate and end the fight.

She is harsh. She is brutal. Tim does not know her expectations, but he does his best to reach them. She tears him down and calls him weak..little. She really is not impressed with Tim at all which he understands why, she's not wrong.

Dick had been quick, athletic and defied gravity, that was his strength. Flexing in ways that seemed impossible and taking down his enemies with swift efficiency while evading them easily. Jason had years of hard lessons and learning how to fight on his own, he'd been athletic, headstrong and like a brick wall. He punched hard and kicked harder, his fists had been a force to reckon with on top of Dicks acrobatic teachings. 

Tim…he is different.

He is short and small. He's not as flexible as Dick(yet), his punches aren't as hard as the previous Robin's and he's got barely an ounce of muscle on him. He does his best but there's barely any weight on him, he's not sure how he's still Robin because of these things. Or what Bruce meant when he'd said what he'd said.

Then …

It had been the second week in, at this point in time he was sure Lady Shiva thought of him as her worst student ever because he ran slower than the times she expected and didn't strike as hard at the dummies like she wanted him to.

It wasn't an idea where as it more had been reflex…She would be sparing with him that day. He raised his fists, she raised hers.

Her strikes were terrifying. She came at him with ease while taking the session seriously all the same.

He'd known she was able to predict his moves as easily as she does other opponents. Tim's been using her moves with a mix of what he already knows, dodging and blocking. His offense had been blocked plenty of times which frustrated him, he hadn't hit her once.

His master went to strike him with her wooden sword…it was a risky move but he followed through on the sudden epiphany. He acted like he was going to dodge it, keeping his movements in accordance with the block, but had chosen that specific movement so he could switch it last minute and kicked the sword straight out of her hand.

She looked at him, he looked at her.

For the first time since being dropped off on the island Lad Shiva smiled at him.

She called off training the rest of the day, then sat him down in the pavilion, pulling out a wooden box. Under the thundering rain Lady Shiva introduced him to ‘ Wei Qi’, or ‘ Go’. It took one match for him to understand the basics, a second round to learn the in’s and out’s, then the third was when he gathered his strategy and beat her at her own game.

After the sixth round of a narrow game, Tim came out on top again and Lady Shiva nodded her head in approval. She wasn’t angry or sore that she lost..in fact, she looked like she expected him to win.

Two days after playing ‘Go’, ‘Xiangqi’ and ‘Shoji’, Batman stepped off the Batplane to greet them. Tim stood behind his teacher who looked on at the man in pride.

Batman grunted. “You see it, now?”

“It is a shame I underestimated him. Something that will benefit him in the future when battling his enemies. It is not something that stops, is it?”

“No.” He grunts in a way that is both tired and proud.

This time she grinned, “How unfortunate for you, then, Batman, that you were correct in your assumptions. I will train this weapon of his until it is at its strongest form.”

__________________

The physical training doesn’t stop though it does lessen, Tim finds the time missed in the presence of scrolls that she brings him. She tells him to read, so he absorbs the information like a sponge. They are tells, how to read emotions, how to understand his opponent and what he can gage just by a single look. Lessons that revolve around the strategy of the fight…a puzzle that Tim’s somewhat familiar with already from a young age. Except now there’s a full codex to it all right at the tip of his fingers.

How she tests him is by showing surveillance of people from the other part of the island. She begins by giving him a few minutes to write out what he sees when looking at a specific person; It starts with a man. Tim deduces his age in his late twenties, early thirties. The man walks with his chin up and fists clenched at his side(possibly trigger happy/jumpy), he walks in slow movements(hiding an injury), his weight is shifted on his left more(the injury is on his right side somewhere, hip down). There’s no flinching or obvious sign of pain when he walks straight, but once he reaches the stairs Tim is able to see his posture stiffen(a knee injury).

If in a fight with the man, Tim’s goal is to win and so therefore targeting his opponents weak spots would be ideal. Lady Shiva has him write down all of the ways he could do that, she reads them and is very pleased with his answers.

Her strategy in combat training also changes.

He learns the moves, yes, but she places them before him like a puzzle, it’s just up to him to figure out the code. 

It isn’t hard.

Tim begins lasting longer in their sparring sessions. He begins learning how to read and strategize in a hand to hand fight, his hits land(he’s sure she’s holding back some) and he also begins learning how to use his environment to his advantage.

Once she’s pleased with his progress in that area, she introduces weapons to him. Laid before him on the table there are swords, kunai, escrima sticks and more. Tim gets a feel for them all, ultimately deciding on the bo staff. Light, simple, something that allows him to reach. It’s the perfect weapon to use for offense and defence.

“The perfect choice.” She tells him. “Any second given in a fight to learn your enemy can be the difference between life and death. The bo staff will allow you to control distance, it will give you that time. Before your departure I will ensure that you know how to use this as if it were a third arm.”

“Yes.”

Pleased, she hums and is about to say something when she receives a notification on her device. To someone else her expression would not look like much, but to Tim who’s been learning from her and adjusting to her tells, he sees(possibly) confusion and irritation…a hint of excitement? No….hope? “Go and meditate for now, Robin. I have a matter to deal with, I will return in one hour.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Tim does just that, setting his bo staff down so he can meditate on the rock.

Exactly an hour later she returns with a stiff posture.

Tim opens his eyes and she’s looking at him, something is on her mind, then she turns and swipes her hand in a way to tell him to ‘come on’.

They practice the rest of the day. The results are good, though he has a sense that there’s something else on his master's mind. She’s not angry with him(he thinks), there’s nothing he could have done to upset her in that hour she was gone. He doesn’t address the lingering stares when she thinks he isn’t looking…he does sleep lightly that night with his hand near his emergency beacon just in case.

The next day she arrives to have breakfast with him, continuing his Bo staff training. Everything returns to normal so he almost forgets about it for a few days.

One day they travel inward, Tim is doing a survival exercise, when she cuts it to an end and brings him a little up the mountain. Above in the mist he can see there’s been a disturbance, like an aircraft had been there. It’s so obvious that there’s no way she missed it, so they continue until there’s a hollowed out entrance in the mountain side and a door within, there’s an aircraft he doesn’t recognize over to the side. “I will return momentarily.” She says without looking back, disappearing through the metal door.

…Tim won’t lie. This is very suspicious-incredibly out of character for her.

She receives summons all of the time, not once has she ever brought him remotely close to them at all(Bruce doesn’t want anyone to know Tim is there, she knows this). ….So why bring me here?

The white slit of his domino mask shrunk, squinting his eyes at the metal door that isn’t closed all of the way.

Bruce’s words ring like a bell in his ear, “This is not the place for you to be curious. So don't …..”

Tim crouched and snuck towards the door, sitting beside the crack in it.

There he could only hear muffled voices, he didn't want to risk opening the door any further and alerting his master and whoever the owner of the mystery aircraft that he was listening. Tim did the next best thing he could and took out his phone to record, he could always audio enhance it later.

When the muffled voices stopped he moved to sit behind a tree where his master left him. Lady Shiva makes her appearance again, completely normal, and the two set down the path once again.

She doesn't say anything to him, so he doesn't say anything to her.

Nothing of the incident comes any further.

On July seventeenth Batman lands on the island for the last time and oversees the progress Tim's made while training out of the country. He stands afar and watches him and Lady Shiva fight, silent as Tim holds his own against the fearsome martial artist. He's not perfect, he still has things to learn and there's room for improvement, but he's certainly not the eleven year old who kept having his ass handed to him before.

Lady Shiva beats him, of course, but Batman is proud beneath the mask when he pats Tim on the head and grunts, “Good job, Robin.”

Lady Shiva gifts Tim his new bo staff, then says to the man taller than her, “I expect to see my student again next summer.” No room for ‘maybe's’ or ‘we'll see's’. 

Tim bows his ‘goodbye’, slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves.

______________________

“...your message, I told you I have not seen your weapon. I have no clue as to why you think it would have made its way here.”

“I have to cover my basis. I doubted it, but I had to make sure. So I'm sure you won't have a problem with me taking a peak around your island just in case.”

“Do as you please, but be warned, I am currently in a contract with someone you do not want to mess with….not right now. If he feels that his bird is threatened, you will not leave the battle unscathed, so keep your nose away from the south.”

Silence, then in a curious and baffled tone, the man asked, “A new bird? Batman is having you train one of his own?”

“Yes, he is. And not a day goes by that I am not amused, this little one is special. In fact….it is a shame for you that you did not swoop him up before Batman did, he would have been perfect for your project. He's going to be a force to reckon with once he's ready to fly.”

Excited, “Do you think the league-”

“Do not bring the league into it, Cain. Do not take my words lightly. You did not witness the massacre in Gotham like I had, you do not know how dangerous a bat can become when they've lost their little ones. It is a game that I don't think you want to play.”

“But you will.”

“Yes, you know I love the chase, but that will be years from now. I am prepared to die for it, it would be an honor, unlike you. That is…assuming your ‘One Who is All’ doesn't destroy me first. Though I suppose we will never know considering you lost your precious weapon. How did you manage that, David? You did not say.”

“Takashi Yamada in Star City. Almost fourteen years of preparation and it still hadn't been enough, I tested C.A.S.S.A.N.D.R.A too soon. The job got done but my weapon apparently couldn't handle the task again.” 

“Why not come to me sooner? Why wait two months?”

“Because that's the time that it took to confirm it's no longer in Star City. Could be anywhere, now.”

“Hmm. Well, you won’t find what you’re looking for here, but by all means have a look. You had best remember what I said.”

And that’s the end of his recording thanks to his televisions surround sound.

“A weapon…” His voice trailed off.

This could be something he should tell Bruce. Anyone who’s talking to Lady Shiva of all people about a weapon… it has to be dangerous. And more dangerous now that it’s lost . Tim should be good. He should take his recording next door and sit Bruce down, tell him exactly what happened and show him the recording. Whoever this ‘cain’ guy is can’t be good, this ‘weapon’ of his could harm lives if they don’t investigate it soon.

Or he’ll bench me for not listening to his orders and staying out of Lady Shiva’s business…….

His teeth pause where he’s biting on his pen..

Tim decides that he’ll tell Bruce if the weapon does turn out to be a force of mass destruction. For now he’ll keep it to himself and do his own digging. He’s(almost) twelve for goodness sakes, he doesn’t need Batman to supervise everything he’s doing. Tim can figure it out himself, it will be fine. It’s always fine.

Why bother him with it anyway? It isn’t a Robin or Tim problem, so there’s no reason to care.

_________________

On July Nineteenth Tim rises to the warm light peeking through the curtains of his messy bedroom and a heavy weight lying on his back. He’s twelve, finally, and it has been almost a year since he began interacting with the Waynes, but for some reason the youngest Wayne wants to murder Tim by crushing him to death. “ Dick.” Is groaned into the pillow. “ Get off.”

“What was that? Hmm. Must’ve been the wind.~”

“ Dick!”

“Yeah, that was definitely the wind, and not a babybird who’s now twelve and still growing. Nope, not at all. Cause that would mean the babybird is trying to become an adult bird and we can’t have that.~”

“Master Dick.” Alfred chides without any heat. “If you would allow Master Timothy to breathe , we may have breakfast, finally. You have, afterall, expressed your need for waffles for days.”

Dick made a sound then the weight left off of Tim, replaced by arms pulling him out of the blankets and dragging him downstairs. He’s still blinking awake when Dick sets him down in the dining room and there’s a mass of food lying on the table-namely waffles and toppings to guide him back into awareness. His plate is stacked high with food by Dick, Bruce is nowhere to be found. Tim wonders out loud where the two adults were.

“Oh,” Dick waves his fork in the air leisurely. “Alfred’s decorating and preparing for lunch, Bruce is out doing a few things.”

Tim drizzles nutella all over his waffles with butter and peanut butter. “Decorations? What for?”

Dick looks up from his phone, a waffle hanging on his fork, “For your birthday .”

Tim can’t see himself so he’s not sure exactly what face he makes, but he’s sure it’s somewhere between bewilderment and outright skepticism. “ Why?”

“..because it’s your birthday, and you’re twelve and all twelve year olds have parties for their birthday?”

“A party? How do we even do that? What would we need to do that for?”

It’s Dick’s turn to be bewildered because he’s genuinely confused at Tim’s honest question. “It’s how you would have a party like any of your other birthdays? Invite people over, eat, open presents, you know?”

Tim, in fact, does not know. He doesn’t say that, but he does snort and dig into his waffle. “If you say so.”

“Dude….”

“What?” Mouth full of waffles. Dick looks at Tim strangely, thinking, then shakes his head.

“Nevermind.”

Breakfast continues, then the front doors of the manor open and close, Bruce makes his appearance. He’s not sure why but Tim shy’s away a bit when Bruce tells him kindly, “Happy Birthday, Tim.”

“...thank you?”

There’s a look shared between the two adults, nothing is said further. Tim is told to go upstairs and hang out there until someone comes to get him. He dresses himself for the ‘occasion’-a thin shirt and swim trunks-then taps away on his handheld, playing Dead by Daylight.

He has to find a way to get the information he needs on Cain.

The batcomputer would be a wonderful and convenient way to get what he needs, but that plan poses a few problems. He could hypothetically hack into it, then that would hypothetically alert Bruce who would then see what Tim was researching and therefore ask questions, questions Tim didn’t want him to ask. If he managed to successfully hack the lock, that would leave a digital footprint-that Tim doesn’t know how to erase just yet-in the batcomputer, then again lead to the questioning Tim is doing his best to avoid.

So how else does one gain information on a man who’s most likely a criminal and has had trouble with the law?

By using the law.

A plan formulated in his head as his Michael Myers hid in a space near the generator. A player came by and began working on it, then stood up because they’d noticed him finally, but it was too late.

Tim continued this until there was a knock on his not-bedroom. His mouth didn’t get to answer because the door slammed open and in walked his best friend. “Dude!”

“Kon?!”

Kon shut the door and flew over to throw his arms around Tim. “Tim! Happy birthday!”

Arms crushed him, “Why are you here?”

“For your birthday , duh.”

“Uh. Thank you?”

“They’re ready for you downstairs! I volunteered to come get you!”

“Why?”

Kon pulled off of him and grabbed his hands in his, grinning mischievously, the hint of a blush on his cheeks. “So I could give you this.~” The he ducked to kiss Tim on the cheek, pulling back just so their faces were still close together. He waited for any protest-Tim had none-then pecked him lightly on the lips, pulling away. “That’s not your only birthday gift, I’ve got another one outside, but I’ve been looking forward to giving you this one more.”

His cheeks flushed, punching him hard in the shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“Mhm, but you’re the one who let this idiot ki-”

“Don’t! Say that word-”

“-ck your ass on Mario cart.” Kon’s cheek wins against Tim’s scowl. “What? What’d you think I was gonna say? Hmm, Timmy?~”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hate me all you want, but you’re gonna love the gift I hauled all the way over here. C’mon.”

Together they walked-or rather, Tim walked and Kon floated- down the stairs, through the entrance hall and to the room where they usually eat. It’s where one of the many entrances to the back yard is, and through this way Tim is able to see the decorations outside and a large, inflatable obstacle course and waterslide outside. Tim stops before anyone can see them and looks at Kon, “All of this…is for me?” Confused…and a little bit like there’s something melting inside of him. He feels warm (like when Dick hugs him and won’t let go, or when Bruce gives him barely-there-smiles).

“Yeah, dude. You like it?”

“I don’t know? I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“...like, why all.. this ?” He gestures to the party waiting for them outside. “What’s the point?”

Kon shrugs. “I dunno. I guess to celebrate your existence? Cause people think you’re awesome?”

“But why?” His parents wrote emails when they could about their pride in his grades, they’ve never done this for him. 

His best friend shrugged again. “Maybe it’s a different kind of ‘awesome’? Lex used to be proud of me when I would do things that Clark could but he never threw me one of these. My first one was about a year after I moved to the farm, I knew what a party was, duh,” he tapped his head. “Lex made sure I knew everything. But I’ll tell you what, I didn’t know what was going on when Clark came in with presents and Ma and Pa were stringing up things on the wall. I still don’t get it, I just roll with it.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Hmm…People will tell you ‘Happy Birthday’, you can just say ‘Thank You’. Then cause Dick’s out there, he’s probably going to challenge you to something, or drag you to swim, so we can do that first and eat in between. Then about halfway before the adults get tired of each other, they’re gonna say ‘let’s cut the cake’. So when that happens you go and blow out your candles, you make a wish in your head, and then we cut the cake. After that you open up your presents and pretend to like what you don’t. Someone’ll clean up the paper, so you don’t have to. Then we finish messing around until the adults all want to leave, so they’ll wrap up the party.”

“What do I do then?”

“Thank everyone for coming. And don’t worry about the clean up. Clark, Jon and I are staying the night, so it’ll be quick.”

Okay. Tim likes that explanation, he likes it a lot. He has a list to follow while being thrown in unknown waters, it’s perfect. Tim reaches over to squeeze his best friend's hand in thanks. “Okay, I’m ready.”

__________________

The glass door is thrown open and just like Kon’s predictions, everyone gathered there greets Tim with a resounding ‘Happy Birthday’ being shouted in his ear cavity. Bruce, Dick, Barbara and obviously Alfred are present. Clark is standing with a slight frown on his face beside the Kents, Jon is hugging his fathers legs and there’s a new face he’s never seen before. White, bright red hair and freckles for days. Tim figures out that it’s Wally before the speedster even makes his dash over to Tim to greet him.

Wally is a lot to deal with at once….but he’s funny, he thinks.

The party goes exactly as Kon told him it would. He, Kon, Dick and Wally spend their time challenging each other in the obstacle course(there’s lots of yelling and accusations of cheating to the meta’s, Alfred chides them on their language because Jon is ‘just a boy’). Then they take turns flying down the waterslide and into the massive pool. The adults are on the other side of the pool lounging both in and out of it, Bruce is notably watching Jon splash in the water with his floaties while talking to the others.

The boys eat, swim, and roughhouse, then Tim blows out his candles without wishing for anything(it was too much pressure). The cake Ma made is cut, then they move onto presents. He receives quite a bit from the Waynes, Ma and Pa give him a gift card for a place out in Smallville, Clark also gives him a gift card but for the arcade in Metropolis. Kon’s gift is his absolute favorite.

Tim puts on the large leather jacket. The adults are exhausted, Kon can’t stop smiling. “I got it a few sizes big so you can wear it for a few years, it’s a one of a kind.” The jacket has a large superman symbol on the back exactly how Kon has his, but there’s other patches sewn onto the sleeves of it of Gotham’s vigilantes, plus the flash and wonder woman. “You’ll grow into it. It looks fu-freaking awesome on you, dude.”

“Ten in the jar, Kon.”

Kon curses under his breath-an additional five is added-then presents to him a collection of hoodies to pair with the jacket. 

He loves them.

Daylight wanes. The older Kents are the first to declare that it’s time to go, so Dick hops on the Batplane with Wally and they’re off. Tim doesn’t have to lift a single finger except to shower and ‘put his things away’...which means he places them over in the corner to take back home in a few days, the only reason he’d stayed over was probably a coordinated thing between Mrs.Mac and Bruce. It had hindered his case…he’ll look over it this one time.

When Tim is finished he walks down the stairs…he hears very low voices talking between one another in the dining room between Clark and Bruce. They cut abruptly the second his foot hits the hallway, when he emerges on the other end the two are scowling…not at each other, he reads. They’re both upset about something but try to cover it up with a smile when Tim appears.

Odd.

Bruce tells him, “Kon is outside taking the course down.”

“Oh…Okay. I’ll go there, then..”

“Did you have fun?” The man stops him. The question is curious…something else Tim doesn’t understand. Hopeful? No .

Truthfully he responds with a nod. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Uh… Thank you..Bruce.”

The little smile he gives him does not reach his eyes. “Any time, Tim. Anytime. ”

Chapter Text

Gotham is the only city in the United States to have a crime rate that has almost reached ninety-percent, an all time record of 89.678% before Batman appeared on the streets of Gotham back when Tim hadn’t even been born yet. The number dropped about thirteen years ago and now fluctuates between 60% to its normal 70% all thanks to the help of Gotham’s vigilantes. 

Of those numbers, which is a surprising fact that no one knows about-because the media likes to twist things around- only around twelve percent is actually supervillain activity, and an additional three relating directly to said supervillain. Everything else is genuinely because there are horrible people in Gotham who assault, murder and rob as much as possible in hopes they’ll get away with it. From grand theft auto to stabbing, there’s so many crimes being committed on the daily that Tim has his pick of the litter, really.

But what crime can a twelve year old commit that isn’t concerning enough to send him to Arkham, but enough to have him arrested? It shouldn’t be this difficult. Summer is going to end soon..this is something he has to do before then so it won’t mess with school, and also because his parents are supposedly going to return a little bit before his first day. So he has to come up with something and do it fast .

It takes him maybe twelve hours after returning back to his home to come up with something. If it hadn’t been for Mrs.Mac lighting the candle of his small cake she made, it would’ve taken a while longer(and probably different, less destructive) to come up with a plan. It hits him immediately, he sees the vision, and then he plans.

Tim waits until that Wednesday where he knows Bruce is going to be stuck in meetings at WE. The bus ride to Cherry Hill is long because he’s doing his best to avoid any cameras. He switches outfits throughout, then the crowd shifts to more people around his age and older the closer they get because Burnside is not too far, he’s able to blend in more and cause potential confusion.

Once he reaches his destination he sets everything up accordingly, then waits.

Deputy Officer Lance shows up right on time for his scheduled coffee break in Seven Brew near the local park. Tim’s read about him before in a case file Bruce let him look at, the officer had been at the scene of a crime but without body cam footage. A few google searches and newspaper articles later, Tim came to the conclusion that the man has a habit of not wearing his camera like he should. His theory is proven correctly when the officer whistles his way into the coffee shop without the box on his chest and orders his to go.

Tim sneaks the keys right off his belt and throws them under the cop car, then waits right there in the alley for him to walk out. There’s a moment of hesitation where he pats his hip to try to find his keys, Tim uses that to scare him by tossing the metal lid of a trashcan on the concrete. The startled officer drops his coffee, snapping his head towards the sound, Tim lights his match and tosses it inside, bringing the insides of the can up in flames.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!?” Tim does it again with another can nearby, tossing the whole match box inside with it, this time the officer takes a step forward. “Kid!? Are you fucking deaf!? Cut that out!”

He looks the officer right in the eye and pulls the last match out of his pocket that he saved. He drags the red across the brick of the building, not breaking eye contact, he tosses it on the ground nearby.

A trail of fire erupts on the floor of the nasty alley, igniting in a path of fire to the dumpster, up, inside, then the entire thing bursts into flames.

Officer Lance is stunned into a silence.

Tim’s got him right where he wants him.

_____________________

“I swear, you criminals get younger and younger every year.” Officer Lance says as he cuffs the other end to the chair, locking Tim there in the middle of the empty precinct. Someone set fire to the park, and there’s ‘break in’s’ happening all over the usually harmonious neighborhood, pulling a lot of officers out of their desks other than a handful inside the building. “Was it you who put fire to the magnolia trees?”

Tim stayed silent.

Annoyed, “Oh. I see, you’re still keepin up with the silent treatment, aye? Mhm.” His fingers tap harshly on the keyboard. “Caucasian male, ten years old. Name? Unknown-I’ll make sure to put ‘disorderly’ in my report, right next to Serial Arsonist. ”

Tim followed his right to remain silent, watching the clock as if he were bored.

12:31….12:32….

Minutes go by…Tim smells the smoke before he sees it. He gasps, looking at the vehicle outside that’s caught on fire. Officer Lance whips around just as others begin to take notice of it, in a hurry they rush to get fire extinguishers and rush outside, leaving Tim by himself long enough to do what he needs to. He spits out his prepared USB and plugs it in, automatically it executes commands, opening a hidden terminal window for his custom script.

It creates a secure backdoor connection to his hidden VPN server and it installs a tiny listener into the police system, everything becomes mirrored and it’s sent right to the cloud in a secure folder for Tim to decrypt later.

He’s in and out of it in less than four minutes.

On minute eight he’s got the USB hidden in a sewn pouch of his underwear and is as silent as he was before the officer left until now. Officer Lance is pissed , and pulls Tim up by the collar of his shirt. “How the hell did you do that?! Huh!?” He points at the destruction outside. “I know it was you, you little shit! Do you know how fucking expensive that car was!? Huh!? Are you one of those meta freaks!? Answer me!”

Tim bit back his tongue and his need to get away from this man. He said nothing, only for the man to throw Tim back into the chair hard . The wood stabbed him in the back, a sound came out of him in a mix of a whimper and surprise. “You’ve got some fucking balls, kid. Let’s see how big they are when you find out exactly where I’m sending you. You want to be bad, well I’ll make sure you’re around the people you want to be.”

The officer unlocks the cuff and yanks Tim out of the chair, then throws him in a cell. It’s separated from the adults, there’s a kid here and there in the same cell as him, one is white with blonde hair and the other is darker than the both, his head shaved on the sides. They’ve got Robin insignia on the chests of their shirts and sit close to each other, not saying a word.

Well. “You the one that blew up his car?” The darker boy asks him.

Tim knows about cops and they’re ploys, there’s an entire cell of adults beside them, so just in case he doesn’t say a word. He does give the boy a smirk.

The boy laughs to himself, a bit tired and bags under his eyes. “Nice.”

____________________

Tim has a plan. Of course he does, he’s Robin and Robin would never go into a situation(that he can help) without one. Tim’s done his research, he knows that the juvenile jails are full, there’s too many adolescent criminals for jails to hold them. Processing is slow and Bruce Wayne has worked with the courts to set up a system where children cannot be sent to places like Arkham or Blackgate. There’s two options that Police precincts can do.

Hold the children in there to wait until processing.

Or drop the charges and let them off with a warning.

In the case that they do decide to keep Tim there, he’ll just call Victoria and have her come over and deal with it all. Tim’s already got at least…five things he can list off that didn’t follow protocol or was borderline illegal, it’ll be enough for her to get the charges dropped and get him out. Then a six hundred dollar bribe to keep quiet about the incident will keep his parents from finding out. Perfect. All he has to do is sit and wait patiently for five O’clock at shift change so he can plead his case with Detective Jordan-a lovely black woman who’s known for giving kids second chances…and for being fair. She’ll take one look at the whole thing and let him off scott free.

All he has to do is survive another…four hours until then. 

It’s as easy as riding a bike. Tim stays silent over in his corner, he ignores the taunting adults over in the other cell who jeer at the only three children in the cell, and watches the clock tick by.

12:40pm runs into 1:20pm. Everything is fine and going as he planned, nothing’s changed, that is. 

A whole hour goes by since Tim's been thrown into the cell…the doors to the precinct open. Cherry Hill’s local police station is far from big, it’s a two story building with the top of the floor reserved for its detectives, IT, and meeting rooms. When entering the place it’s automatically the office area for its police officers. It’s very open, there’s only a single desk where the receptionist sits which hardly blocks anything, and the cells are held off on the side behind two half walls and a short, open hall.

What he means to say about all of this, the layout and who’s where, is that sound carries well.

He’s relaxing one moment, looking out the window, hearing the same receptionist from earlier sigh, then say “Again?” There’s a flipping of papers, she says. “I don’t see either name on the list?”

“Actually his name is Tim.”

“Hmm…not on our list, but there was a young boy just brought in not long ago, he refused to speak or answer any questions. Might be him?”

“If an officer could please bring us back so I can look myself?”

“Of course, just one moment.”

His entire body straightens up, his fingers grip at the bench under him, eyes as wide as saucers. Bruce!?

But how!? He wants to scream.

He hadn’t been the only person to hear the newcomers' voices. His resident cell mates are alert now that Tim’s entire posture changed, and one of the men in the cell over laughs. “Looks like someone’s daddy is here to come get ‘m.~” The snickers and laughs from a few of the other adults made his cheeks go red in embarrassment and irritation-he couldn’t hear any of the words being exchanged because of it.

It sounded like multiple voices, then a protest from Officer Lance followed by three..four sets of footsteps coming their way.

Laughter is cut short when Bruce Wayne steps into the cell area, trailing behind him are two lawyers and Officer Lance. Bruce sees Tim, then frowns and turns to his lawyers, “Open the cell.”

Officer Lance opens his mouth, Bruce’s lawyer is faster. “Mr.Drake’s guardian is here now, you have to open the cell and cannot keep him held inside any longer. Not only that, but you are keeping three children in the sight of eight..ten adults when you should know that that is not proper protocol, and goes against the ‘Sight and Sound Separation’. Cooperate or you and this entire precinct will go down, Lance.”

Officer Lance huffed, irritated, he went over and put the key in the lock and opened the door. 

Bruce had clearly been in the office, still dressed head to toe in his suit. He flattened the jacket of it and stepped inside the small space, bunching up the thighs of his pants so he could kneel in front of Tim. “Hey, kiddo.”

“...hi?”

Bruce takes in Tim’s appearance. Blue eyes glue to the side of Tim’s face, there’s a bruise there from this morning when Tim tripped and smacked himself in the face with his camera. Tim is pale so even though it’s been a couple of hours, it probably looks fresh, and is the reason why the lines on Bruce’s face grow sharp in confusion and anger. He lifts a hand to push away the hair hanging there. Tim doesn’t mean to but his eyes flicker over at the officer. Bruce sees it, looks back, then turns to look at Tim as he’s fighting the fury on his face. “What happened?” He tries to keep it calm but Tim can hear his anger.

Tim feels sick to his stomach.

“Uh..Photo’s..camera, bag, proof.” He gets out.

“You were taking photos with your camera, and it’s in your bag?” Clarifying. Tim nods, he then asks, “What’s this about arson?”

Tell the truth when you lie.

“Was taking photo’s…the trash can caught on fire..and a dumpster. Officer was there and arrested me.”

Officer Lance makes a noise, “That little-he’s a liar, he’s a little arsonist is what he is!”

“He didn’t have a body camera on, Bruce.”

“He didn’t?”

Well . The part of his brain that isn’t being pulled into an anxiety attack rationalizes, May as well give them all the evidence.

Tim snitches. “He didn’t, and then he arrested me and brought me here. I pleaded the fifth but he still tried to question me. He was upset and then his car caught on fire, and when he came back he blamed me for it and grabbed me by my shirt and slammed me in the chair.”

Bruce’s anger was evident. The harshest expression he’s ever had while wearing his ‘Brucie’ persona in public. “What else ?”

Tim hesitated. “He…he implied he would put me somewhere that I shouldn’t go, with ‘bad people’...”

“Mhm, and? ”

“...he cussed at me. He asked if I was a ‘meta freak’...”

“And this?” Bruce brushed a finger over the cut of his eyes.

Tim looked at Bruce, looked at the Officer. He probably shouldn’t, but Tim’s moral compass is fine as it is at level three. He looks down at his hands and simply says, “....it hurts….”.

“You little-”

“Enough!” Bruce snapped.

The shout echoed through the silence of the precinct. Even his lawyers were shocked to see him so angry like this, a complete one-eighty of his usual smiles and whimsical demeanor. Officer Lance’s mouth shut , the glare he received Tim knew all too well, a look so harsh that it kept its same threatening demeanor outside of the cowl.

It was Batman that was staring the man down. 

“Here is what is going to happen, Lance. You are going to release Timothy Drake from police custody, you are then going to place these two other children in the proper holding cell, and my lawyers will be speaking on all three of their behalf. Then , you are going to go home and find your best suit, because you will need it when I drag you to court for what’s happened today.”

“You can’t-”

“Oh, but you can place three children in front of two known child molesters, yes?”

Officer Lance couldn’t say a single thing about that.

Bruce then did something that he’s never done before with Tim. 

He turned back to him, then reached forwards and pulled Tim into his arms in one entire move, standing. A hand rested on his back, and an arm supporting him at his bottom. Everything was high from up here. The floor felt like it was miles below him, and Bruce was comfortably warm despite the summer heat. There was still the smell of aftershave and expensive cologne lingering on Bruce’s skin, it reminded him of when he was really little and Jack would pick him up and carry him around at parties to show him off to the older socialites. He’d been young and cute, so well behaved, he would always do his best to be good because that meant his parents would hold him more.

When’s the last time they did that?

There’s a moment of hesitation..but Bruce is kind and rubs a circle on Tim’s back. It’s probably just a reflex of his, but a part of Tim takes it as a reassuring gesture and relaxes, wrapping his arms and legs around him and lays his head on the padded suit jacket of the man’s shoulder.

It’s wrong. It’s unprofessional and shouldn’t be allowed for him to have….but like everything else Tim’s stolen from Jason, things he doesn’t deserve, he keeps the unfamiliar warm hug to himself.

Just this once.

Chapter Text

Carried like he weighed nothing, Bruce had confidently strode out of the precinct that day, holding Tim in a way that’s obviously for show(it still feels warm). Tim managed to peel his face from his shoulder and stick his tongue out at the officer when no one’s looking, just before the glass door closed on the man’s enraged face. Bruce tells him the very next day that Tim is in the clear,Tim’s name had never been written and the report hadn’t been finished, that he did nothing wrong, etc. It became a whole conversation about how the officer wasn’t right for treating him that way, and that Tim should have asked for his phone call immediately upon entering the precinct.

“But…why?” He asks Bruce.

“Because I should know these things. It’s important for an adult to know where you are, what you’re doing, and who you’re with. You can and should always call me, Dick, Alfred, Clark or your nanny when this sort of thing happens. There were two pedophiles in the cell not even five feet from you, that shouldn’t have happened, Tim.”

“How’d you even know where I was?” It had been his very first question, still unanswered at the time.

“You are lucky that Kon-el is just as attentive as his father.” Both relieved and annoyed. “He said you were hurt and tracked your heart beat into Cherry Hill.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Now turn, let me check your back…”

Tim had typed up a lengthy text to Kon about ruining Tim’s plans among other things…..then pressed his thumb over the delete button, knowing he’d do the same if he had that ability. No sense in being a hypocrite to someone who’s that important to him. In place of that he calls Kon.

“Sup. You good?”

“Yeah.” He can hear screaming in the background and guns being shot, Kon is playing a video game. “Bruce says you were…attentive.”

There’s a pause, the screaming abruptly stops, then Kon says wearily, “I mean…yeah. I just, with what happened with..with Jason…I don’t know dude, I can stop if you want me to? I know it can come off as invasive. But your heart beat increased, and then it sounded like you were hurt, I had to be sure you were good.”

“You don’t have to stop.” He says. “I’m not angry. Just…how about you wait for me to call your name? If I need help, I’ll say your name, alright?”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost relieved. “Okay, that works.”

“And you also can’t get mad if I ever start tracking you, and you find out.”

“Deal.”

All that matters is that he still got what he’d been looking for without a criminal record on his name. The interference didn’t hurt, so there was no point in discussing it further, so they moved on and gamed until late and hung up the phone.

Using a Framework sixteen, he spent hours setting it up, organizing the storage, upgrading the RAM, GPU, ports and the mainboard. By the time school was just around the corner, Tim had the laptop set up as his own-portable-Batcomputer. Or maybe he should call it the ‘Bird laptop’? ‘Birdbox’? Oh! ‘The Nest’.

Nice.

The Nest is all set up. Tim takes the USB and sets it up into the computer, so now he has access to the entire police database at an untraceable VPN. During the day, for the rest of summer break, he sits in his bedroom at Drake Manor and digs through the files that he can on David Cain and then at night he walks to Wayne Manor to go out as Robin. Dick and Bruce have both suggested before that Tim could ‘set up shop’ at the Manor….Tim can’t do that. It’s not something a partner does with their other partners. Dick obviously can’t draw a correct line where ‘friendly’ and ‘too friendly’ are involved, so Tim will have to do it for him. And although Bruce has been acting strange for months towards him, Tim won’t let himself get attached to the warmth it brings him.

No more birthday parties. No more sleep overs. No more hugs.

No more.

Janet would disapprove greatly, so would Jack. 

No more dragging Bruce into a guardian role. He’d screwed up last time by not telling Kon about his plans, he won’t make that mistake again.

Plus, like he said before, he doesn’t need someone to fill an unneeded role in his life. It isn’t necessary. His parents provide him with everything he needs, he’s not being abused, and he’s certainly not not looked after. Mrs. Mac is always there when he needs her!

Everything is fine as it is.

So Tim does his digging in the comfort of his home.…The Weekend plays in the speakers on the second floor because there’s no one to complain about it, his parents aren’t able to make it back for a reason or another that they didn’t explain. They were probably in a rush to get to South America-it’s fine. Tim is able to see their flights whenever he wants(it’s how he found out), he’ll see them again by the end of the year…maybe.

What he finds in the system is a criminal record dating back for years , Cain is not young. There are a few security footage he finds that shows his face, those ones are old so he sets them aside to possibly enhance later. The next one shows that he’s gotten smarter and wears masks and disguises to cover his face, but his build is the same, so he’s still identifiable. There’s not many , but Tim has a good idea on what he looks like from them.

With that information known he goes and searches through the security footage of Star City two months before that faithful day Tim even learned about his existence. He uses the street cameras, cameras from restaurants and buildings to follow the whereabouts of Takashi Yamada. The footage he does find is distorted from the rain, he can see the man entering the building, then nothing else. No one leaves anytime around then. The next morning shows families leaving the apartment building, a little boy in his father’s arms, and a little girl at some point running after her mother.

Tim replays the video and drowns in every detail he can. It’s not on a loop, there’s no suspicious cars around the area except for a car driving around 4:30 in the morning without a rear license plate. Anyone can have their plate on the front or in the window, but none of the cameras in the area that he sorts through is able to clearly pick that up.

He will say…everytime he watches the clip of the car he gets an odd case of deja vu. Maybe it’s the model? It’s an old town car, the type that they used to drive back in the day and now were sold for thousands. The sort of thing his own father would drive whenever he was home for business. Tim had never been allowed back in it after the incident of 09, the day he’d discovered that he and eggrolls don’t mix. The acidic bile he threw up in the back seat stained the only carpeted part of the vehicle, bringing its worth down by eight thousand dollars. Tim only knew because his father screamed that in his face while on the phone with a licensed trader. He also remembered it vividly because he’d had some trouble breathing and scratched at his neck, his mother cursed up a storm while driving him to the emergency department to have him checked out. “Your father can’t talk up anyone on his own, Timothy, he’ll be eaten alive if I’m not there! Damn. But I guess some deal is better than nothing-and stop scratching at your shirt, that is a limited item from Ralph Lauren’s newest collection. If we keep it in good condition we can sell it once the price is worth it.”

Anything after that he promptly checked out of.

Tim watches the video over and over again. He tracks through the footage of the day to see if he could find the car anywhere in the day, but there’s only three occurrences. The first is it appearing somewhere between three blocks of a neighborhood to a stop sign, then driving down the road going past the building, then heading for the docks. He combs through the footage to see when it leaves….it never does. There’s nothing around the docs there that he can/has the capability of hacking into, he doesn’t know what systems are there, he only knows the ones that he’s able to get into and none are available to him. For all he knows, the car could have been dumped in the water.

..crap.

_______________

August thirteenth appears, marking his first day back to school.

Tim boards the bus with a fresh bouquet of flowers. There’s a normalcy to it that his bus mates recognize as a part of his routine, no one questions the floral arrangement or gives him odd looks. There are few that become visibly sad for a split second before turning back to their phones; Tim wishes he could do that. Turn his attention to something else and not think about it, about him .

But the bus stops at the entrance of the school and Tim drags his feet to the spot he hasn’t been at in months, the flowers that were there are dead, the smile of the boy in the photos is alive. The juxtaposition is so odd that Tim knows that he will never be able to forget it.

He tosses the dead ones and replaces them with mourning flowers. He also adds a few new photos in there that he cut out of the school yearbook from last year, they fit perfectly with the others. Tim adds a new card inside as well, shutting the glass. “See you later….Jason.”

“He’s at it again, fucking weirdo.”

Tim’s whole body turns quickly, the crowd is flooding with students of all heights and shapes, there’s no telling who just said that.

He doesn’t end up finding out which bothers him because he doesn’t know if it was about him or someone else. If anyone has an issue with him doing what he does, then they can kick rocks for all he cares. He’ll tell them off to their face if he has to.

The days go by after that. Tim replaces the flowers two more times while keeping an ear out for any malicious comments, nothing like that happens again so he slowly lets his guard down about the incident.

His Robin life keeps him busy for a few hours every night, ultimately keeping his mind occupied from his case that’s at a dead end, he has a shift in focus along with Batman on the strange movement happening underground. There’s children-orphans-running around the streets of Gotham wearing jackets embroidered with ‘R’ on the chest. Tim hears the concern in Batman’s voice whenever they talk about the sort of things the group has been doing.

September third, Gotham shakes from the force of an explosion that takes out two blocks and a subway station with it. It rumbles like an earthquake at surface level but burns like the hells underneath it. Batman suits up, on the comms with Nightwing, heading to the Batmobile without Tim. “There could be another bomb, you aren’t going anywhere near it.”

Tim doesn’t argue, Batman peels out of the cave like a bat out of hell.

He makes a show of going home to Alfred…then the second he’s in Drake Manor he strips out of his clothes and throws on an all black outfit and a domino mask. He doesn’t have a motor cycle or a car, what he does have is a red Campagna T-Rex RR his dad bought for himself but never once has used. The three wheeled, street-legal autocycle sits brand new in the car garage next to other vehicles that aren’t used at all.

Tim hops in, shoves the key in the ignition and flies out of his garage, down the road leading right to the city.

When he reaches several blocks away from where he knows Batman parks his car, he hides the thing then goes around to help civilians while also avoiding the Bat’s line of sight. He only takes the rooftops when necessary, mostly he stays on the ground and looks for lost family members, pulling people out of the rubble. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be-he had wondered why that was.

“A black boy warned the whole of us hours before it happened.” An old vet told him. “Went around bangin on doors with a group of other kids. Most of us listened, some didn't, now look. It’s a whole mess. Dumb, racist sons-of-bitches. Way to weed ‘em out I guess.”

Huh .

Stepping away, he taps at the hologram on his wrist, looking through the destruction of the city in search of anyone wearing that same letter on their jacket. It takes eight minutes exactly…he finds one.

____________________________

The grapple hook takes him all the way to Cathedral square.

Silent, his foot steps on the rooftop behind the boy he’s been tracking. He’s wearing a letter jacket that’s ripped and torn, stained with dirt and possibly blood. There’s a red domino mask sitting beside him. It looks like they're about the same age- I know him.

The darker boy from the jail cell.

He’s sniffling silently, kneeling heavily on the brick.

Tim….doesn’t know how to proceed. Ives and Kon are the only people he talks to. He’s awkward around others his age, and his classmates.

He hesitates there for a second, then asks himself what would Jason Todd do?

Silently, slowly, his feet take him to where the boy is-with a lot of space between them-he lets the pebbles under him crunch as he sits down so that way the boy knows he’s there. The sniffling notably comes to a complete halt. There are wide, brown eyes staring at the side of his face.

“ Robin?” The boy asks, incredulous.

Tim gives him a shy wave. “Uh…yeah. Hey? Other Robin.”

“Don’t call me that! I’m not a Robin!” He snarls at Tim, his fingers gripping at the jacket. “Not..not anymore.”

Tim tilts his head. “But why? An old man told me you saved lives tonight, you and the other Robin’s did good.”

There’s a harsh snort that comes out of his throat. His fellow Robin looks away and hugs his knees into himself. It looks like he’s going to cry, “Right. We saved lives but couldn’t save one of our own. What’s the point?”

Oh. He lost a Robin, like me. “...I…I’m sorry? To hear. I think I can understand what you’re going through.”

“What, you lost a Robin?”

There’s a sudden ache in his chest-the flash of a brilliant smile that he’ll never see in real life again. His breath shudders, breaking as he tells him, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“But you are Robin. I thought…so, it’s true? What everyone under was saying? Robin, the Robin , died? How? When? Why? ”

“The joker.” Two words. No context, no other information, nothing. Just two words it took and the boy’s face morphs quickly into grief and rage, much like Tim a month after the shock of finding out how Jason Todd died. From who killed him . “The Joker….took away someone I looked up to. Robin….he was magic. I mean, look at you.” He gestured to the ‘R’ on the boy’s chest. “Look at your friends. Robin is still magic, all Robin’s are. That’s what I think.”

“You’re magic?”

“Robin might say so.”

“But what do you think?”

“....I don’t know.” In some ways, yes. There’s a look on a civilian's face usually accompanied by seeing his flash of red, green, yellow and black. Because if there is a Robin, there is a Batman. Robin is the light, the beacon of the future-that there is a future. Where light goes, darkness must follow, and that comes in the form of the towering Dark Knight who is the promise of the future . Both companies bring relief, hope and safety to civilians, while striking anticipation, fear and regret into the blackened hearts of the perpetrators. “I hope I am. I hope that my Robin…that he would be proud of me.”

“Yeah? I, same.” He says. “My Robin…Troy, he was good. And…he tried to save everyone, he was good . He didn’t deserve to die, it should have…it should have been me, I should have done something but I didn’t, I couldn’t convince him to come with us. And now he’s gone . How can I wear this?” He gripped at the jacket. “How can I wear this when I failed ?”

“I ask myself that all of the time. I still don’t know. I just…I do it because no one else will.” He admits. “Robin is a choice, I think. And it’s not forever even if we want it to be. Robin is magic…magic is energy and can transfer, I guess?”

“Right. And when it does, we’re not prepared for it.”

“No. We’re not.” Tim wasn’t, Bruce wasn’t. No one had been prepared for the death of Jason Todd. If I had been, then I would have stopped it. And isn’t that a promise? He would have stopped it if he’d known.

If only I did …

“I’m sorry about Troy.”

The boy eyes him, “..I’m sorry about Jason.”

“What-”

“I’m not stupid . I just put it together. A random white boy with a fade shows up at Cherry Hill for Arson . Then messes with an officer’s computer and shoves the evidence in his underwear-I watched you through the mirror.”

With a straight face, “You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”

“Then he shows up, somehow, without the officer’s calling or anything. You didn’t give them your name. How else did he know where you were? I mean, my parents are paranoid but not enough to put a tracker on me. Plus it just makes sense.” He shrugs. “How else does Batman pay for what he does? He’s got to be rich. I mean…I didn’t think it’d be him , I don’t think anyone would cause of….you know, the media and stuff. But if the shoe fits?” Tim kept his mouth shut. The other boy looked at him, daring him to deny it.

Sighing. “You can’t tell anyone-”

“I’ve suspected it for months. If I wanted to then I would. I just want him to find the Joker and my parents.”

“What’s your name?” Tim asks him.

“...Duke.”

“Your parents? Are they-”

“They’re not dead.” He says, shortly. “They aren’t , they’re just..they’re missing, is all. The Joker, he did something to them before he was put in Arkham last year, and now he’s gone again . He might have them.”

“Family?”

Duke eyes him. “....I have no one else. I don’t need anyone else, I just need my parents. When they come back, everything will be fine.”

“What about until then?”

“...I don’t know.”

There’s a thought forming in his head. He knows he shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn't for a whole lot of reasons Bruce would list off. Safety, security, all of it. Tim still asks him anyway, “.....You don’t get motion sickness, do you?”

“No?”

Mind made up, “Good.” He really doesn’t want another repeat of ‘09.

________________________________

The middle of September, a whole entire month for students of GA to get used to their schedules. That means that it’s time for those who were picked for the Wayne Enterprise internship to start their journey with the company.

He and nineteen other students wait after the bell and board the black bus to take them to Wayne Industries about five minutes from old Gotham. It’s the building where Wayne Enterprises conducts their research and builds their equipment, a building that’s so large that it’s more like three with connecting walkways between the roads. He’s been there a few times as Robin to pick up some parts with Batman, he’s familiar with the layout already so he doesn’t pay much attention to the guide leading them around the place. 

There are nine divisions in the building that they have a walk through, the guide tells them all about what each part does and what makes up Wayne Enterprise. Tim is well aware of each one, so doesn’t appreciate the scenery as much as his fellow students do. All that’s on his mind is his case that he’s stuck on and no way of getting out of. The police database only has so much on Cain, the footage he’s hacked into aren’t helping at all, he’s seriously considering finding a way into the Batcomputer’s information so he might find out more clues.

Before he does that though, he’ll continue searching for cars similar to the one in the video(it’s a painstakingly long process, unfortunately).

Eventually the tour ends in a break room where they can all talk amongst themselves about what division they were all interested in, and who would go where. Tim is stopped before entering the room by a dark hand on his shoulder belonging to a face Tim knew well.

Lucius Fox holds out his other hand, “Timothy.”

Tim takes the man’s hand just like his father taught him to, “Tim, please.”

“Right then. I’m sure you know who I am already, I’ve seen you and your parents around before. I’m here to escort you over to Wayne Towers. It’s good that you’ve familiarized yourself with this building, though you won’t spend much time here at all I’m afraid.”

“Where’s Bruce?”

“Waiting.” He says with a roll of his eyes. He gives Tim’s shoulder another pat, then guides him away from the group, waving at the guides politely as he does.

Where Wayne Industries sits some minutes away from Old Gotham, Wayne Towers stands right beside it. It’s a sky scraper so tall that if Tim were to climb on the top of Wayne Manor, he’d see the rectangular head of it and its sharp points towering over the city. It has been attacked a few times before, there’s obvious coloring differences between the newer and older bricks when he and Lucius ride past on the cart. It hasn’t been attacked in years, though.

The inside is a mix of gothic architecture and modern electronics. It’s everything he would think a building like this would look like, and with adults rushing to get where they need to go. There’s suits and business everywhere he looks. Other than a curious glance or two, no one pays them too much mind.

Lucius first brings Tim over to pick up his badge. Executive Intern reads in white against black beneath his name, his clearance is a level 12, whatever that means. Lucius tells him as Tim’s clipping the badge on his shirt, “Use this badge responsibly…please don’t lose it. Replacing these is a hassle, I hope you aren’t as forgetful as Dick.”

“You know Dick?”

“Of course I know him. When Bruce got him, he could barely put the boy down. It’s been a while since he’s been here, thank goodness. The younger folk here need to focus on their tasks. Like father, like son, I guess.”

Lucius leads them through the building to the bustling elevators, then the two ride it up, get off, get on another one and do that a few more times until they reach the very top. The doors open to a short hall with two ascending, curved stairs on either side. They walk up and enter the open office.

It’s a large, open space. Shelves with books encased into the stone walls, seating places, tables with tech. Bruce’s desk sits in front of a clear, bullet proof window on the office phone. He acknowledges them both with a short nod of his head and continues on talking to whoever it is, Lucius gently leads Tim over to a separate desk and leaves him there. 

While Bruce talks, Tim decides about five minutes after watching Lucius Fox leave that he’ll poke around, so he does. He looks around the open space; the shelves, windows, the sort-of-used-bar. There’s a table of notes and things that he glances at for a new project idea to help those up in crime alley….the very place that Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot and murdered years before Tim’s birth. 

“What do you think?” Bruce is moving to lean against the desk, finally off the phone.

“..um…It’s good?”

“Think so? Lucius would agree, too. But I feel like something is missing.”

“I mean…it’s crime alley . You can’t stop all crime there?”

“No. I can’t,” he taps the page, “But I can help the citizens that live there. The homeless are a concern, orphans and prostitution. Drugs are more prevalent in this area than most, the children that live here are more susceptible to the exposure and more than likely to have an addiction by the age of fifteen.”

“Oh.”

Bruce hums. “Mhm, that plan you’re reading should help with hunger and some shelter related problems. Drugs are the main problem, not something I can stop easily, and there will be lives at stake if I do so my hands are tied.”

Because drugs are a source of income for a lot of families in the area. Selling them feeds families, drug money contributes to the local businesses there and their families, and so on. “Batman would have to stop the, like, hard drugs, right? But Bruce Wayne might be able to help with the addiction in kids and adults.”

“Yes. That is the goal. This plan here is just the beginning.”

“Are you doing a phase step plan? Am I supposed to help you with this? I don’t think you ever said what I’m supposed to do here.”

“An extra set of hands would be useful, I suppose.” His hand moves to pull the papers from Tim’s hands and set them back on the desk, then places it on his shoulder to guide him over to the side desk. “This ‘internship’ is a failsafe for anything that may happen in your civilian life, Tim. It would not be out of place for you and I to be seen in the same place, or for me to appear during any situation that would occur if I am a legal guardian. I will have you show your face to keep up appearances-drop off paperwork, or so- of course. Though there are no specific tasks I expect when you are here. You have a desk to work on homework,” he taps the wood of it, then points over at a couch with some pillows and blankets on it. “You can nap, or anything.”

Basically , he thinks in absolute disbelief, I have all this clearance and high title just to screw around and do nothing.  

And that’s exactly how Tim spends his first day as an executive intern at WE.

Bruce gives him a map of the building just to have, then goes on to a meeting and leaves Tim there to do whatever he wants until Alfred comes to pick them up. The butler asks Tim how his day was- weird . Tim answers him, then he and Bruce go prepare for a few hours of crime fighting together until it’s time for Tim to get back home.

Instead of going to sleep he pulls out his computer, and the papers from the desk in the office, and begins typing out a phase plan for Bruce. He works hard on it over the weekend, goes through the motions of school the following week, then on Friday when he exits off the elevator, he’s both confident and unsure when he places the folder on Bruce’s desk.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip when the man pulls over the folder and begins reading the first page. By the end of the thirteen page document, Bruce is…pleasently surprised? “This is a wonderful plan, Tim.”

“Really?”

Bruce ignores Tim’s shock, flipping through them again. “It covers the points I addressed and has a well thought out execution plan. I do see that it falls just above the fund goal, it shouldn’t be a problem. Most charity events raise above the amount. What we have left over from last year can be used this year, if needed.”

“I tried? But the numbers wouldn’t work.”

“That is all that matters,” Bruce takes that and a few other things, placing them in his bag. Rounding the desk he gently pats Tim on the head. “Good job. I’m going to bring this to Lucius now before meeting with the financial department, I’ll return in a bit.”

“Uh.” The hand on his head is kind , making him short circuit. “Is there anything else you need help with? I can do more.”

“This is why you wrote out the phase plan? Because you want to work?”

“Yes. I can handle it, I promise. I should work just like everyone else.” I can be useful.

Bruce thinks. “Hmm. Very well, if you want to, I will find tasks for you. But the second it becomes too much, tell me right away. If you have a test or homework, or if you are tired, you should prioritize those before anything else. I pay the people in my company to do their jobs, you don’t need to do it for them.”

That won’t happen, but he won’t tell him that to his face. “I promise.”

“Good.” Another ruffle of his hair, he’s gone. Leaving Tim feeling less anxious about this internship, and hopeful.

Of what? He has no clue.

__________________________________

The case is still at a stand still, there’s no movement, and school is as tedious as it is annoying. At least he has a new ‘hobby’ for himself on top of his night life. Working as an actual intern isn’t horrible, it gives Tim something to do, a way to make himself useful while hogging up Bruce’s space. It’s a way to pay back the man for the trouble of having to write all of those contracts up, anyway, may as well make it worth it.

“Still don’t know why you just don’t sleep or something, man. Cause you ain’t gettin none here.”

Oh, and a new person to talk about it all with.

Inside one of the empty rooms on the second floor of Drake Manor, Tim set up the place perfectly for his new, permanent, guest. Or until the boy’s parents are found. Duke is a welcomed company. He’s funny, and certainly much neater than Tim is. They hang out and play video games, or swim if it’s warm enough. He proves to be someone that makes the Manor feel less empty than what it is.

Even when he does annoying things like scold him for not resting.

It’s three in the morning and a school night. Tim's already showered and dressed for bed, but he has a laptop in front of him and some notes that he took from Bruce’s conversation with an executive with a partnering company. His fingers don’t stop clicking on the keyboard, “It’s a half day today, I’ll just sleep when I get home.”

“Thought Kon was flying over?”

… Shit. “It’s fine, I’ll nap and you guys can do whatever until I get up, I have to get a head start on this.”

Duke snorts and fixes the blanket on his shoulders, already padding back down the hall, he throws over his shoulder, “If you say so. Don’t get mad at me when you wake up with marker on your face, dude.”

“Promise!” He calls right before the door shuts.

Tim actually ends up finishing the document right as five o’clock hits, he lies right there on the floor to sleep until his eight o’clock alarm goes off. Tim rushes to get ready, and is out to meet the bus right on time and heads to school.

The day is short. He’s there in English, dozing off at one moment, then ready to pack his bags in Chemistry the next.

Their teacher goes on and on, then the topic of the Wayne Enterprise Internship comes up. Of the twenty five students in the class, ten of them are in the internship, including himself. The teacher asks them to raise their hands-Tim does- then his teacher calls on a few of the students, asking them which division they’re in, and explains how chemistry would be involved, and why they should try harder on their test next time.

And because this teacher isn’t like the others in that they completely overlook Tim, just when Tim thinks he’s done,Mr.Marshall makes a gesture towards Tim. “What about you, Tim? What division did you pick?”

“Uh, research and development.”

Dana Murphy’s hand shoots up and says, “No you’re not, I’m in research and development. You’re not in our division.”

“Research and development? I meant to say Bioengineering."

Really, he should have paid attention to who had said what before he was called on, because Beryl Grant shoots back, “No. You’re not? That’s mine and you're not in our group.”

“Uh.”

“He’s always disappearing when we get there, Mr. M. It’s really weird.”

The whole class is looking at him. His teacher is more confused than he is concerned, raising a brow, “Mr.Drake?”

Tim shrinks in his seat from the attention. “....I don’t know if I can say.”

“What do you mean?”

His parents would want him to brag about it, for sure. His parents. Who knows what Bruce wanted him to say-he doesn’t, because the man never said anything about what he should do if someone asked. He never expected anyone to ask , he figured his parents would spill the beans whenever they inevitably come back to Gotham to visit their business associates. “Uh…I don’t work in the same building as everyone else, my internship is in Wayne Towers.” There are murmurs after he says that-silently, he hopes they’ll leave it at that.

Then Peters asks him, “What do you do? All of the divisions are in Wayne Industries?”

“It’s more like an office position.”

“But what’s it called?”

He pinches his lips. “I don’t think I should say.”

“Dude, just what is it? What’s your badge say?”

Everyone looks at him expectantly, Tim just wants the conversation over. In his head he apologizes to Bruce’s inbox and says, “It’s an executive Internship.”

“Executive?” His teacher clarifies, like he doesn’t understand the word if Tim’s the one saying it.

No one else is really understanding the words he said, so he offers an explanation as fast as he can. “Cause Bruce Wayne is my neighbor, and he’s a family friend, I work with him on stuff. Like phase plans, or looking over important documents with him. Or he’ll have me write notes on phone meetings, that sort of stuff. Lucius is supposed to be teaching me more about other parts of the company when he returns from vacation.”

Now, not everyone at GA is filthy rich, but a lot of them are well off. Immediately there are complaints and others promising to say something to their mother or father about this injustice. There’s some who don’t even believe him and ask to see his badge.

Tim reaches over in his backpack to procure the badge and holds it up for them to see. There, right for them to see, is his face next to the words ‘Executive Intern’ and ‘Clearance level 12’.

“But mine is only two!”

There are more complaints and the rest of the class period, Mr.Marshall spends it trying to calm everyone down.

The moment the bell rings he’s walking out the door.

Mrs.Mac will have to be the one to pick him up, today, instead of the metro bus he usually takes. It's rare that this ever happens though it’s either that, or walk an hour to the next one that’ll take him home.

While sitting on the stairs, the students rush past him-some whispers about him-he takes note of an old, red, vintage car turning into the pick up lane. Candy red, shiny, it looks almost brand new. The top is down so Tim can see Reginald Horton, co-founder of Horton Security Co, smiling at his son William as he slides in the back seat. It’s an innocent scene, an image of a loving father picking up his asshole of a son, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then the car pulls out of the roundabout-Tim shoots up so fast he drops his phone on the ground.

The car!

The top is down and there’s color, but there’s no mistaking it, that’s the car from the surveillance footage! That’s why it looked familiar to him! He’s seen it before, he’s just never paid attention to it because he didn’t need to!

All sleepiness is gone, now replaced by the excitement of a possible break in his case.

Tim does his digging by the pool where Kon and Duke splash around in, Kon keeps heating up the pool with his lazer vision, but all their shouting is white noise to the thrumming of gears in his brain.

Why would someone take a car to the docks? The same reason that someone wouldn’t walk their two-thousand dollar shoes through mud, or let their freshly groomed dog roll in the mud. The car went to the docs as a means of transportation. A car like that shouldn’t be driven cross country, the trip could destroy it if the owner isn’t careful, which owners are very careful of their million dollar vintage cars. It’s easy for him to look at past shipping routes to see that it was heading to Gotham.

This also means that Reginald had to have been the one driving the vehicle, because no one had exited the entrance until shift change in the morning. Another quick check, Tim sees that there had been a direct flight from a private airline in Gotham to star city before that day.

More research, more digging around, he confirms that Cain and Reginald are acquainted with each other. They don’t meet in person, but they do interact with the same people. There was a briefcase strategically swapped between Reginald and another man in the bathroom of a small hardware store. It’s too convenient that both enter and exit several minutes apart and share the same navy blue case.

Horton’s Co. specialize in cyber security. They have a major business in Star city for security in hotels, hostels, town homes and apartment buildings. Tim only knows this because he’s been forced to listen to his parent’s conversations with the socialite many times.

Cain must’ve needed him for that night.

He needs more information.

But how to get it?

____________________________

In short, William Horton hates Tim. Does he know why? No. He can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve spoken to each other, none of those times had Tim done anything to warrant his ire. He’s never cared before about the lack of conversation in school, even though their parents are ‘friends’. The only reason he cares now is because he needs to somehow find a way to get in contact with William’s father, so he can steal all of the man’s passwords and get into his system without trouble. All data, preferably. 

To do that, he needs to get close . As in ‘bump shoulders’ close.

Tim’s parents aren’t scheduled to show until an entire month from now, so he can’t make up an excuse for them to see the Hortons. Tim isn’t friends with the boy so there’s no way he’d get invited there, and he’s not charming enough to win over the favor of his father to want to invite Tim over for dinner.

What else can he do except for what he’s about to do next?

Back in Chemistry class, when their teacher and his lab partners aren't looking, he switches out the NaOH with HCl. A quick drop of the acid in a chemical mixture that it should have never touched, added to heat, the result is instantaneous. A fire erupts on their desk.

While the desk and everything on it sets to flame and students are rushing out, leaving Mr. Marshall to deal with the fire himself, Tim sneaks into William’s backpack and steals his phone.

It becomes a whole problem. The local fire station is called and comes in head to toe in their equipment, the students aren’t allowed back into the room to grab anything until the coast is clear, so they’re stuck waiting out in the hallway. Tim sneaks off to the restroom and downloads the data off William’s phone, all he needs is one singular password-an amazon account, spotify, or hopefully a recovery email. Something that the boy shares with his father so Tim can get into the man’s data and steal what he needs. All he has to do next is sneak it back into the boy's backpack or his person, then everything is history.

Unfortunately he isn’t able to tuck it back into his backpack at all, no matter how many times he tries. He debates on starting another fire after lunch, and is lost in thought when he bumps right into the person he was tailing. The apology is on his tongue but his hands are quick, shoving the phone into the side pouch of the bag and stepping back.

William startles in the middle of the hall, the conversation with his friends cutting short, he turns to see Tim standing there. His entire face scrunches up, “It’s you. Watch where you’re fucking going, Drake.”

“That was my bad. Wasn’t looking where I was going, sorry.” Tim moves to walk away, ready to escape for his next class after, but he freezes in his spot at what William says next.

“Of course you didn’t. Too busy fucking crying over that mexican street rat, and all those fucking diseases he carried.”

Slowly, he turned to look at him. “What?”

“What are you, fucking deaf? I said that you’re a fucking weirdo, crying over that mexican, HIV rat who finally croaked from it.”

“Will,” one of his friends chides with heat. “How can you say that?”

“Why else would Bruce Wayne take him in? People like Bruce Wayne likes kids, and really like colored ones. That's why he got that gypsy, too.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? ” Tim can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. “Bruce is a good person! He’d never do anything like that!”

“How about what’s wrong with you , Drake.” Their conversation is beginning to gather attention, kids are stopping in the hall around them to listen. “You keep fucking bringing his shrine flowers and shit, it’s weird . He never talked to you, I bet he didn’t even know you existed. You’re the only one in this school that gives a fuck about him, still. The only reason they have his shrine still up is cause Wayne helps fund the school, why else would we keep that there?”

Someone from the crowd spoke, “That’s not true. I miss Jason, a lot of us do. Tim takes good care of his shrine, some of us would, but he beats us to it. You should chill.”

William scoffed, “ Me? You guys should relax. He’s dead , get over it. Gone and he took his filthy diseases with him, he deserved whatever he got.”

Tim’s backpack is there on his back one moment, then gone the next, tossed on the floor at his feet where students back away. His heart rate is up, the blood beginning to rush in his ears. “ Shut up. You don’t know shit about Jason! You don’t have the right to fucking talk about him like that! ”

William glares at Tim, sliding his own back pack off his shoulder. “Oh, so you want to get your ass beat, Drake? Like Jason’s crackhead mother probably did to him?”

“Jason is dead .” His voice almost betrays the constricting in his chest. “Have some fucking class !”

“What the hell is going on over here!?” Their coach's voice booms through the halls.

But Tim or anyone else barely spares the man a single glance, Tim says again, “Unlike your mother who fucked that waiter at your birthday party last year-”

“You’re dead!” William lunged for him.

Tim blocked the punch-fist balled up, he hooked his own fist right into William’s pompous fucking face, punching him so hard he flew back into the lockers. Students screamed and moved away just in time for skin to slam against the metal. On his hands and knees, William spit out a tooth, blood gushing from his mouth. It spilled all over the floor like some horror scene.

William looked at his tooth, “You fucker!” He scrambled up from the ground and went to tackle Tim.

Tim rushed forward, using the height difference as an advantage, and flipped over him. William ran into the other set of lockers again, but pushed himself off and began swinging at Tim.

Tim dodged every one. Punching him square in the face to put him on the floor.

In his rage, Tim climbed on top of him and grabbed him by the shirt. “Apologize!”

He spat. “Fuck you!”

Tim pulled back and punched him in the face again, vibrating under his skin. “Do it!”

“Drake!”

Tim ignored him and punched the boy again and again.

Someone tried to get him off-Tim swung his head back, there was a sick crack and a curse. “Dammit, Drake!”

“Mr.Drake!”

Fists bleeding, the sick crunch every time his fist landed on the boy's face, he saw the water falling to stain the bloodied face under him. Tim’s crying .

Someone caught his arm and another caught his other one. His teachers pulled him off, shouting at him to stop. The only thing preventing him from pulling a move Lady Shiva taught him was the little Robin in his head whispering ‘ civilians’. “Fuck you, William! Fuck you!”

“Mr.Drake-”

“You don’t know shit, William!” He cried, fighting-but-not against his teacher's hold. There were other teachers trying to help the other boy up. His face was bruised, mouth bleeding and eyes swelling, he was gaping at Tim. “You don’t know anything! Jason was everything to me, he was better than me and everyone else in this fucking school! He was good! He was an amazing fucking person with people who loved him, but now he’s gone! He can’t even defend himself from you because he’s dead! Fucking dead! Fuck you!” 

Jason was everything.

His chest was bleeding.

Jason is dead .

“I fucking loved him!” But he’s gone. “And I..” his voice broke.  “I’ll never be able to tell him that..”

I had the chance. I never took it.

I’ll never get that chance again.
___________________________

Tim and William were placed on opposite ends in the front office with the receptionist eyeing them, and their Coach standing in the middle while the nurse checked on both of them.

It had been Coach’s nose that Tim broke.

The man stood there with a bloodied rag up to his face, surprising Tim when he says, “You’ve been holding out on me in gym, Drake. I shoulda known, Grayson was my best student. He taught you that flip, didn’t he?”

Tim started to nod, but the nurse stopped what she was doing and glared at both of them.

They kept their mouths shut. Letting the room fill with light talking and ringing of phones. Once she was finished she left the room, the coach following behind her-Coach stopped at the door and whispered to Tim. “I expect more effort in class now. No excuses, three weeks from now is the fitness test, you better get all good marks, or I won’t give you any marks, ya hear?”

“Uh..Yes, coach.”

“Good.”

It made him smile, only for a second. Then the dread of it all came crashing down on him again.

He’s most likely going to get kicked out of school. He brutally beat up a boy in the hallway and kicked him while he was down(he did it when the teachers were trying to drag him away). His parents will find out and most likely disown him, or something. Then Bruce will find out and strip him from his Robin title, he’ll be left with no money, no home, no school or title. He won’t be able to take care of himself or Duke, so they’ll probably have to travel to central city or something so he can embezzle money there. Kon would chip in, definitely, so they’ll be fine for a while-

A buzz rang through the office. Mrs. Peters pressed the button on the desk, “How may I help you.”

“This is Reginald Horton, I received a call about my son.”

“Yes, Principal Whitaker is waiting for you, come in.” She pressed another button, then there were sounds of feet and doors being opened through the speaker on the desk. The glass doors to the front office opened, Mr. Horton looked at Tim, then his own son, then Tim again. Confused, angry, he points to his son and says, “We will talk about this.”

He and his lawyer walk into the principal's office and the door shuts.

He’s screwed.

Everything is over for him. It was nice while it lasted…he’ll have time though, to plan for the inevitable. His parents won’t be back for a while. Tim’s ‘updated’ their email address to the school years ago, so they won’t receive any notice. If Tim doesn’t tell them then those in high society will. He could forge ‘gifts’ from his parents easily, if Tim and Duke are smart about their spending, it’ll last them a while. He’ll have to look into places to go live tonight under his fake aunt’s name. Duke will have to pack their things in the meantime.

There’s another buzz in the office. “How may I help you?”

“ Kristin! Darling, hello.~”

Mrs. Peters flushes. “Mr.Wayne, hi, is there something I can help you with?~”

“I’m here to meet with Elisa on Tim’s behalf.” He says to the shock of everyone listening in. Both William and Mrs. Peters gawk at him. “It should have been updated on his paper work by Mrs.Mcllvaine before the start of the school year.”

“Really? Oh, okay, yes. Come in.” She presses the button and in walks Tim's doom.

Bruce-Brucie-Wayne enters the office with the same lawyers that sprung him from jail and smiles at the receptionist kindly before looking Tim over. There’s no visible sign for him to gauge what Bruce is thinking which makes the knot in his stomach ten times worse. Tim only catches a small glance at the wrecked state of the other boy, and the note of Tim’s unscathed appearance, and gives Tim a small nod before going to the principal's office.

Principal Whitaker is expecting the man. Mr.Horton is not . Tim sees him shoot out of the chair and exclaims, “Bruce?!” before the door is shut.

The door stays shut for a long time.

Tim is beside himself. Every noise, every small sound is having him panicked . Any shift of a shadow under the door bringing him closer and closer to a panic attack, and tears. Jack and Janet would’ve scolded him from the get go, Mrs.Mac might have had his back some, who knows what Bruce will think? What will he think when he sees the ccv of Tim beating the everliving shit out of a boy who has no Robin training? Bruce is going to take one look at the crazed look in his eye and take Robin from him for good.

He’s going to be so disappointed in him- and after everything’s been going so good.

Worst of all…he’s going to be forced to listen to the horrible things William said about him and his dead son.

Shit.

The door to the office opens, Tim’s whole body jerks up in his chair.

Mr. Horton is upset, “William! Come, now! And you,” he shoves a finger at Tim. “Don’t you ever touch my boy again-”

“Do not speak to Mr. Drake, Mr. Horton. If you have anything to say, you will say it to his guardian.” Bruce’s lawyer speaks coolly.

Reginald glares at the woman, at Tim, then storms out of the office with his own lawyer and son in tow. The glass door shuts just before the man’s muffled, enraged, voice is able to be made out.

“Tim?”

Tim looks up at Bruce, then quickly turns away.

Like before, Bruce levels with him. Still in his suit from the workday and places a hand on his knee. The hand feels comforting when he knows it’s not supposed to be, his ears are tricking him-they have to be- at the softness in his voice when he says Tim’s name again. “Tim? Look at me.”

“ I can’t.” He whispers.

“Why not?”

Cause you hate me. “ I don’t know. ”

"Tim?"

"..you're mad."

"I'm not mad." He promises, but Tim doesn't believe him at all. “Tim,” he tries again, but Tim doesn’t budge. “It’s alright now. We discussed everything over. You were antagonized, William Horton said some cruel things to you, first. No, fighting is not tolerated, but…given the nature of what comments were made, we’ve worked it out to only a three day suspension.”

“ Okay.”

“Tim? It’s fine now-”

“ It’s not, it’s not fine. ” Bruce’s hand squeezes his knee lightly. It makes his throat close up and his eyes blur. There’s a pressure building up inside of him that he doesn’t think he can taper down, “It isn’t. He…William said..”

“I know…I heard the cruel things he said to you, Tim.”

“He shouldn’t have said them.”

“No, no he shouldn’t have. He shouldn't have said them at all, or to you.”

Tim wipes viciously at his eyes, but the pressure is building and building. He chokes on a sob, digging the fabric of his sweater in his eyes. “It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair. No one knows anything, he doesn't know anything. It isn’t fair, none of it’s true.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not fair, none of it’s true.”

He’s sobbing. “But I know. I know . And you know. And Dick and Alfred.” We all know how amazing Jason was. Who he was, he was a hero and no one else knows. “It’s not fair.”

Arms wrap Tim up into a hug .

Any professionalism or desperate need to keep it all together is gone. Tim grips onto his suit and cries into his shirt collar. Shaking in grief and rage, mumbling into the fabric. Bruce doesn’t complain about the snot like Janet would, he doesn’t complain about Tim’s crying like Jack. He folds Tim into his arms and holds him just like he’d done before.

“You’re right, Tim.” His voice is calming like the gentle circles rubbing on his back. “You know more than anyone. We all know.”

“I miss him.”

“I know, Kiddo....I do, too.”

Chapter Text

The door to the Metropolis penthouse is thrown open before Bruce can stick in the key. “Bruce!” Kon exclaims, then brightens more and rushes forward to pull Tim into a hug. “Tim!”

“Kon, hey.”

“Kon.” Bruce greets him, then nods into the apartment. “Where is your father?”

“He’s down the hall dropping off Jon,” pointing to the left, “He told me to tell you that he’d be right back if you wanted to wait for him inside?”

Bruce shakes his head. “I’ll go say ‘hello’ to Lois and Jon, before I head out. Tim, I will return later tonight, if you need anything until then, call me.”

Tim would rather shove his hand down a garbage disposal than bother him with anymore of his nonsense, like he’d done for months now. He lies straight through his teeth, “I will.”

That had been in the early hours of Friday morning, three hours ago.

Now, instead of being tucked away in the safety of Superman’s penthouse like Bruce had wanted him to be, he and Kon lie underneath a bio-organic blanket that camouflages them perfectly. Props to having a relative who has a martian girlfriend with cool gadgets-Kon’s words, not his, though he couldn’t agree more.

Kon signed with his hands, “You sure that ‘bomb’ is fake?”

Tim gave him a look , signing back, “Why would I make a real bomb to put in the bank?”

“I don’t know, the same reason why you had me put a fake one there?”

“It’s for distraction. When it ‘goes off’ it’ll just disintegrate itself. The only thing that will be harmed is the bank’s wallet to fix the floor. It’s fine.”

“Do you know how to make a real one?”

“We both do.”

Kon’s mouth makes an ‘o’ , “Yeah…you’re right-” he’s cut off by Tim pushing his hands down and pointing to the truck sliding expertly into the alleyway they were stalking. 

Right on time.

The results of Tim’s impromptu fight had been horrific(to his pride), and wonderful because his theft of William’s data proved fruitful in the investigation. Tim had managed to get into Reginald Horton’s private emails, business emails, etc. Information that kept him busy for the days he was suspended from school. Duke helped him go through them all, then the boy showed him a business partner Horton Security Co frequently emails. The emails seemed fine themselves, it was the name of it that had stood out to Duke when he’d seen it, and Tim the second he laid eyes on it.

Candid VAI .

David Cain.

Not a smart choice, but somehow it’s gone on for years that no one’s noticed until now, so he can’t really judge. Don’t fix what isn’t broken. The emails received were ‘donation requests’ that-upon further digging-Reginald donated to. Tim and Duke worked hard to encrypt any possible code or message that could be in the emails, Duke had made a comment, saying “Why would a business man do business with an assassin? That’s what I’m sayin.” . So then Tim began searching for possible business owners in the same market as Reginald.

Duke’s assumption had been right.

There were few, small, up and coming business owners that had passed in mysterious circumstances all throughout the country. They were people that could pose a threat to Horton Security Co, so Reginald conspired with Cain to have them taken out the game, then swooped in to take over theirs. Gaining new technology, new ideas, and more business for his company. More money, less threats. And more donations equals more tax cuts, the emails are receipts and proof of his ‘charitable acts’.

Tim found a pattern between the day the ‘donation’ is sent, to the day a person would die-fourteen days. The same pattern that poor Takashi Yamada fell in when he died.

Fourteen days ago to this day, Reginald donated a charitable amount of twenty-thousand to Candid VAI for the St. Eleanor Grig initiative… Eleanor Grist . The name of the next target.

Tim had needed a way to get out of sight of Superman so he had worked tirelessly to create a life-like ‘bomb’ so complicated that there’s no way anyone could disarm it, then had Kon sneak in and place it where someone would find it. Causing the ultimate distraction to keep Superman away and busy while they had their stakeout.

Now, it’s time.

It will be raining later. An optimal time for the gentleman below to do their jobs, they’re staking out just like Tim and Kon, just only one pair is aware of the other, and only one group will be getting what they came here to do. Kon is the most amazing, wonderful person to have beside him, because not only does he hear everything he needs to, he can also understand all languages thanks to Lex Luthor’s meticulousness.

All of Tim’s Robin gear is in Gotham, all he can rely on is Kon’s ears and the blurred hand scribbling notes on his phone.

Hours later, Kon drops the pen and signs, “The bomb’s about to go off.”

“Okay.” Tim pulls out a detonator, to Kon’s shock. “I’m gonna press this, when I do, you’ll probably have….eight minutes to toss those guys, this stick, and their guns, inside the bank before Superman gets back from the other side of the city.”

“What!?” He signs quickly. “I thought you said you didn’t make a real bomb!?”

“I never said that.”

“Dude!?”

“And,” he passes over two capsules. “Crush these under their noses, it’ll knock them out long enough to get them there. Stay invisible. Be quiet. Try to not let them see anything.”

“They’re inside of a truck, I can’t faze in and out like a martian can.”

“They’ve been drinking Mountain Dew straight for the past few hours, and they’ve been coming out to pee every half hour.” His gloved thumb hovered over the button, “They should be coming out….right about…”

The door to the truck opened. “Now!” Tim’s thumb slams down on the button.

An explosion rocks through the air of Metropolis, blowing up the top of a bank on the complete, other side of the city. Kon only has a second to stare Tim down in absolute bewilderment before he snatches the thing from his hand and the pills, then goes and knocks the two men out. He’s so fast that Tim can’t see all of what he does, only can hear the clanking of the doors being thrown open, the grunting of two men, and weapons being transferred.

Kon speeds back faster than Tim can process it all, then he’s yanking Tim and the blanket into his arms and flying them back to the penthouse.

The carpet to Kon’s room is under his feet in fifteen seconds flat, it takes him several, slow blinks to come back to. When he does he realizes he’s holding onto the bio-organic blanket, and Kon is pacing in front of him, door shut so there’s now complete privacy, even from Superman’s ears.

“Tim, you…”

“..sorry?”

“Dude!” he whirls around on him, but not like he’s angry. He’s amazed , “What the hell!? ”

Okay. Tim is officially confused.

“How did you think about all of that!? You just, you planned all of that out!?”

“Yes?”

“Dude!”

“Dude?”

“You really are Robin. No, you’re better than Robin, you’re a fucking genius .”

“So are you?”

Kon shakes his head and tugs at Tim’s hand. “I’m smart cause of what Lex put in here, all of this ,” gesturing to all of Tim, “That’s all you. I mean, I knew you were smart, of course I did, but I just…I never knew how much . You’re an actual fucking genius. A crazy genius. You..” Tim watches as his tanned cheeks flush like the Pink Floyd poster on his wall. “You’re really amazing, Tim.”

Shy, he ducks his head, blushing, “Thanks, Kon.”

“Can I?” He comes closer. “I really, really want to, right now.”

Tim lifts his head and closes his eyes, accepting the warming press against his lips.

_________________________

“...culprits were found inside of a vault inside the bank with weapons. They are also believed to be the cause of the actual explosion that happened on top of Jessabelle's sky line. Possibly a poor distraction so they could get away with their crimes. Superman….”

------

Clark was none the wiser when he came through the doors, nor had Bruce been when he arrived hours later to have dinner with them, then leave for Gotham with Tim. The case that had stumped Tim for months finally yielded worthwhile information from that simple stakeout with his best friend.

In short, through the transcribed conversation of two goons in the handwriting of Tim’s best friend, he reads how both men are frustrated with the situation at hand. Having lost ‘a valuable weapon’. And Cain’s anger as the aftermath.

To make sure Kon hadn’t misheard anything, he shoots him a quick text to confirm several sentences exchanged between the two men.

“Who would’ve thought she’d deflect? She’s always been his little lap dog.”

“Well, she’d better get back soon. I can’t stand all this damn waiting. Why can’t we just go find and shoot the bitch already?”

“She….”

C.A.S.S.A.N.D.R.A is not an acronym for anything, he finally realizes. It’s a name for a girl .

All of it falls into place at once.

Lady Shiva’s involvement, why Cain would suspect ‘the weapon’ was on the island- her island. The reason Lady Shiva had basically thrown the case onto Tim’s lap without ever saying a word. Cassandra is a woman. Not just any woman, but the product of two very dangerous people, and is so ‘special’ that Cain dubbed her ‘The one who is all’, a term he’s yet to find a meaning for…until now.

The one who is all… It hadn’t made sense before. Now that he knows this is a person, not a non-sentient thing, he begins to form ideas about the woman. A shape shifter? Unlikely, Cain and Lady Shiva are not metahumans. Maybe an impersonator? Something.

He won’t know until he finds her.

To his horror, he finds out a crucial detail while re-watching the old surveillance video from months ago.

The part that shows the people walking out of the building, the father with his son, followed by a woman walking out, and a little girl running a bit behind her. The little girl is barefoot and has no coat despite the grimy weather on that day. She also is very clearly a different skin tone from the other woman.

Duke also points out, “A mom wouldn’t walk ahead of her kid.”

Janet does.

He doesn’t say anything. Somehow Duke’s comment feels right; it makes sense.

Cassandra is not a weapon or a woman, she is a little girl around their age…..A kid on the run from an elite criminal who tracks people down and kills them for a living. A man whom Tim suspects to be her father.

This is not good.

“She could be anywhere.” Tim says to his roommate, pulling a coat off the rack to look at it, he holds it up, “How about this one?”

Duke gives it some thought, nodding his head. Tim puts it in the basket as Duke says, “Yeah. I mean, we can’t really know where she’d go? It’s been months, man.”

“I know…”

There’s a kid their age running around who knows where-they don’t, that’s the problem. The Nest isn’t yet equipped to get into every single security feed yet. It’s far beneath its capabilities compared to the Batcomputer. If Tim can’t figure out a way to track her down, he just might have to involve Bruce in the case, which is the last thing he wants to do; Include the man who will demand to know every single part of the case, from how Tim got the information, to what lengths he went to obtain said information? Absolutely not.

Duke throws in a pair of good winter boots, some sweaters, jeans, a scarf, and a hat into the basket, then Tim swipes his card to pay for it all. Duke throws him a ‘Thanks, man.’

Tim asks him, carrying the bags out of the store to go wait for their Uber. “What would you do, Duke?”

“About what?”

“If you were her, what would you do? Where would you go?”

“Hmm..” Thinking about it. “Somewhere safe.”

Somewhere safe. “A shelter wouldn’t be safe, or the police station.”

“Too many corrupt cops, like Lance. And if he’s out to get her, a shelter wouldn’t offer any protection.”

“Yeah…”

Duke, the brilliant person he is, suggests, “She’d probably go somewhere he doesn’t pose a threat. That’s what I’d do?”

Somewhere that he doesn’t pose a threat.

His mind runs fast. He sees it for what it is, the information he’s absorbed, the possibilities, and plans. Quickly, he pulls out his phone and cancels the Uber. “We have to do some more shopping.”

_________________

Gotham Police Department’s information on Cain is linked to the other systems across the United States. Within that information, the security cameras, ect, Cain used to conduct business in Gotham over a decade ago, committing all sorts of crimes. Murder, extortion, robberies...the list goes on.

Key term: ‘ used to’.

Batman showed up, and two years in, Cain suddenly began avoiding Gotham like the plague. The only business he’ll conduct there is through emails and other means-case in point, Brian Dunlap, who’d been born in Gotham and lived there, was killed cities away on vacation. Cain conducts his business discreetly when dealing with Gotham because he doesn’t want to interact with the bat…he doesn’t want Batman to ruin his business, that is.

Cassandra is his daughter. His ‘lap dog’. He must’ve kept her close, so she must know his patterns; it’s how she’s been able to avoid the man and his goons for so long. She knows where he would go…and where he wouldn’t.

Two days before Thanksgiving, Mrs. Mac prepares a feast for Tim and Duke-she’s under the guise that he’s a school friend whose parents are also out of town for the holidays. She takes pity on him and makes way more food than either boy will finish in a week. When she’s done and they eat, she leaves, and then they take out about seventy cheap takeout containers to package all the food inside. 

They have a plan.

Gotham is massive, with so many places a kid could hide. Cass-that’s what they’re calling her now- could be anywhere in the city. And they’ve only got so much food.

Duke and Tim talked it out and they narrowed down twenty potential places where the girl could be. Places that checked off five boxes: Warm, accessible to food and water, dark enough to keep her hidden, and nowhere anyone else would go.

Once the two have everything packed and stored in the fridge, Kon flies over at three in the morning to help put the food in places no normal person could reach. They make sure the spots are marked for safekeeping.

Tim’s plan had been to check back in on the holiday….That plan is completely ruined when Tim’s ringtone blares through the living space and wakes both him and Duke up from their spots on the couch.

Tim grabs for it, swiping the green and pressing it to his face. Before he can say anything, Dick yells right in his ear and wakes him up, “Timmy!”  

“ Jesus -yeah?”

“You just waking up, Babybird?”

“...Yeah?”

“Good! That means you’ll be all rested for tonight!”

“What’s tonight?”

“Thanksgiving, duh. Walls and I are next door, Alfred’s finishing some stuff up, then we’re gonna take the Batplane and fly to Smallville.”

“ Why?” He asks, not really understanding what this has to do with him. “Do you need something from me?”

Dick pauses and he’s sure he hears someone murmur something on the other end. “..Cause the Kents are older and it’s harder for them to travel long distances. And yes, Babybird. I’m calling you so you can come with us. Or do you have other plans?”

“..not really -”

“Great! How long do you think it’ll take for you to get ready? I can have Wally run over and pick you up whenever you’re done.”

“Uh…I’ll text you?”

“Okay!”

So that’s how Tim’s perfectly planned holiday got uprooted.

He told the news to Duke, promising to bring him food when he comes back, then texts Dick when he’s ready. Tim is waiting outside his gate when a red blur flashes in front of him, a gust of wind blowing Tim’s hair and the greenery around them. Wally’s grin is as bright as it’d been the last time. “Sup, kid! Long time no see!”

“Uh, you too, Wally.” Tim thumbs at his own mouth, “You’ve got a little…”

Wally swipes at his mouth, then laughs, “Alfred just fed me like, a dozen chocolate chip cookies. His are amazing, but I also like ma’s, have you ever had them?”

“No?”

“We’ll you’re about to, come on!”

Tim is picked up and the next thing he knows he’s in the back yard of the manor. Then for the next eight hours he’s thrown into an unfamiliar setting just like his birthday. The Kent house is packed full of friends and family, laughing and eating delicious food, reminiscing about things Tim hadn’t been there for. Food is shoveled onto his plate more times than he can count, and the adults are so strangely affectionate with him, he doesn’t know what to do. Head pats, shoulder pats, questions about school…ect. Things only Mrs.Mac has asked him in the past about, and Dick, who’d stormed his way in his life(it isn’t appropriate in a partnership how much Dick is interested in the little things Tim says, but who is Tim to scold him for it?).

Tim disappears up to Kon’s room when it becomes too much, that’s where Kon finds him not long after. The boy floats into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him to come sit in the same bean bag chair next to him. Their shoulders are pressed together. Kon leans in close to glance at the screen of his phone, “Anything yet?”

Tim nods, showing the text thread between him and Duke. “Yeah. He went to look on his own, he said only one of them’s been eaten.”

“I’ll make sure Ma packs you up a lot of food. I also saved you a whole pie .”

“A whole pie? How?”

Kon’s grin is prideful, he tells him triumphantly, “I got extra ingredients and asked her to make an extra one for you. It’s in the freezer.~”

“Dude.”

“I was gonna tell you earlier, so I could tell you to ‘thank me later’.”

“Thank you later?” There’s a gleam in Kon’s eye. Tim knows that look, feeling heat rise to his cheeks because he knows just how Kon wants him to ‘thank him’. “You’re an idiot.”

Kon sticks out his bottom lip in a mock pout. “Is that a no?”

Tim has never denied kissing Kon and doesn’t plan on starting that anytime soon. He laces their fingers together, then moves in closer, ready to feel the tingling of their lips that he’s come to adore whenever they touch-

Someone bangs on the door. “Kon! Kon! C’mon, I wanna play with Tim too!”

Both boys are startled out of their skin. Once they realize who it is, Kon groans and grabs a shoe, chucking it at the door. “Go away!”

“No! I wanna play!”

“No! Go away!”

“But I wanna-”

“I don’t care! This is my room, Tim is my friend, go get your own you little twerp!”

“I’m telling dad!”

“Go tell him! See if I care, it’s still my room and you’re still a little twerp! Now go away, you’re being annoying!” Kon shouts at the door. There’s a stomp and strangled cry on the other side of the door that quickly turns into little sobs, then Jon is full on crying so loud that Clark is at the stairs in two seconds flat, calling up the stairs.

“What the heck is going on up there!?”

Kon is glaring at the boy behind the door, then turns to Tim and drops a kiss on his cheek, flying over to the window and tossing it open. He throws a grin his way and a peace sign, “Imma go visit my other old man now, be lucky you don’t have any younger brothers…well, younger , since Duke.”

“But Duke isn’t…..Oh.”

“Yeah. Parents always take the youngest child’s side. It’s chill, I’ll come back when Lex is sick of me. Catch you later! Oh, and don’t forget the pie!”

“I won’t.”

Then Kon leaves.

Tim’s still staring at the window when Clark gets the door open, holding a crying toddler in his arms. He sees that Kon isn’t in the room, looks at the window, and then Tim. “Where is he?”

“Gone to see Lex.”

“Of course. He always does this.”

“He says you always take Jon’s side.”

“What?”

Tim simply shrugs and moves past him, going for the stairs. “I don’t know. It’s just what he said.”

______________________________

His knuckles hurt. Split and busted open, blood that’s not his own staining his white skin. They hurt when Bruce carefully unravels the bandage the nurse had wrapped around them, the injuries aren’t as bad as they feel they are-not as bad as Williams are. Not as bad as the bundle of nerves occupying his stomach.

Bruce has a metal table pulled next to him with antiseptics and cotton balls. He tosses the bloodied wrap into the trash, taking the metal tong and dips it into alcohol, beginning to clean the fresh cuts on Tim’s hands. The man is quiet…the silence has never been so loud.

Tim can’t handle it and says, “....sorry.”

Bruce tosses the cotton ball into the trash, plucking up another and dips it into the alcohol. Bringing it to Tim’s hand, “There is nothing to apologize for, Tim.”

“..but I am, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

For dragging you to the school when I’m not your responsibility, he wants to say. For using Robin training to beat up a civilian, for crying on you like a baby. For leaning on you when I’m not supposed to. For being an inconvenience and being unprofessional, and for bringing up your dead son to your face when I don’t have the right to.

He says, “...I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Bruce hums, “Mhm. Okay. I forgive you, whatever it is.”

“What?”

Bruce repeats his words, “Whatever it is that you are apologizing for, I forgive you.” He is not being sarcastic. He’s not lying nor does he have a single trace of anger visible for Tim to see, nothing. Bruce’s movements stay fluid and kind, not grabbing his arm harshly or digging his nails into any part of Tim’s body. There’s no indication that Bruce is upset with him(or ever had been), he’s being genuinely honest to Tim when he says that.

The knots in his stomach untie just a bit.

_______________________

December comes.

Tim’s parents haven’t been home for the rest of the year until this day and Tim is waiting for them right by the door when it finally opens. Both his parents enter the house covered from head to toe in snow and ice. Janet is on the phone with someone while Jack is grunting, passing along a bag or two Tim’s way to bring into the foyer. He works with his father to bring in everything, then drags them up to their room without much trouble.

“I see you’ve been working on those gains, son!” Jack laughs and gives Tim’s arm a squeeze. To his horror he brings up the one thing Tim had hoped they’d forget(along with almost every other part of his life so far). “Look at you, and you’ve gotten a little taller, huh? All this muscle’s how you beat up that Horton boy, isn’t it?”

“Jack, do not encourage him.” His mother is pushing through the door of her bedroom, stripping out of her expensive winter coat. “Reggie was beside himself. His son had to get a tooth replaced! Can you imagine that!? Disfigured! At fifteen! Or have you forgotten that we’ll need to find a new company to sign with when the contract is up? You’d better be lucky they decided not to press charges, you’re father and I don’t have time to deal with you being arrested.”

The image of Bruce storming into the precinct with his lawyers in the middle of the workday flashed through his mind.

A sharp pang hit him in his chest-his jaw tensed, slightly, trying to taper down whatever negative feeling it was. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“If you’re actually sorry then I’m sure you’ll find a way to get our forgiveness.” Shooing him to the door, “Your father and I are tired now, dear. Go on and do whatever it is you do.”

“Wait, Mom. I was thinking of making dinner for us tomorrow?”

“That’s nice, dear. Be careful about the salt, your father is watching his cholesterol.”

“Yes!”

The moment the door is shut, Tim runs to get Duke, then they both head for the store. They come up with the perfect not-Christmas dinner meal that is sodium-conscious and carb, then drag all of the ingredients back to the estate. Tim works hard to get everything prepared for the next day. He marinates meat, pre-cuts and layers casseroles, and also he and Duke work on handmade bread rolls to proof in the fridge. The dessert is the hardest part, still they persevere. 

Tim’s parents sleep from the moment they get home to early the next day. Jack and Janet both get up to go check on the company in the city. Tim reminds them about dinner and fails to hide his excitement when Jack pats him on the head and says, “We’re looking forward to it, son. We’ll have a nice family dinner together, don’t worry! I’ll drink the champagne for the both of us!” He roars in his laughter, Tim laughing along with him until his face hurts.

He’s anxious the entire day. He’s meticulous in basting the turkey and adding the extra seasoning to foods he’s never had before, but is excited to have over dinner with his parents for the first time in a long time. The whole house smells like a warm holiday meal by the time five o’clock rolls around. By six, he’s got the desserts laid out on the table, place settings, and the hot, covered dishes warm and ready for them to dig into.

Tim calls his mother’s phone thirty minutes after six to see where they are. The call goes straight to voicemail.

He waits another twenty to try his dad’s phone, he’s sent straight to voicemail.

Duke is the first and only witness to Tim storming up the stairs at nine at the night and yanking open his laptop, pulling up the Drake’s recent purchase histories through their cards they use while in Gotham. On Jack’s debit card, he finds a purchase of four hundred and twenty-three dollars spent at ‘The Ledger & Key’. A popular spot for deals to be made over dinner and to get intoxicated, because the restaurant is in the heart of the hotel.

Tim stares at the screen.

Duke goes to place a hand on his shoulder. “....Tim-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll come with-”

“I’ll be back.”

_________________

Throwing on all black and sporting an old halloween mask of the riddler, he drives the Campagna T-Rex RR to the closest gas station and purchases a gas can, filling it up. Then parks the Rex a block from the hotel. He sneaks in past security, into the parking garage and locates his dad’s old car. The throw-up stain is still on the floorboard of the backseat when he breaks into it and hot wires it, the car roars to life. Tim drives it out of the garage and to the street right in front of the hotel.

At eleven on a snowy December night, Tim douses the vehicle in gasoline and watches the car go up in flames. The heat of it reflects off his body on top of the nearby building, but it doesn’t manage to dry his tears. He sits there until the fire department shows, then he grabs his bag and grappling hook, flying off as if he’d never been there.

Weeks ago when Duke had found the empty container it had ironically been in the most packed part of Gotham in terms of shopping and people. Up in an old, fake temple centered in Chinatown, they began leaving food at the highest point where only someone with special training would be able to reach. Just to make sure they knew it was a person taking these meals they placed tape on the edges and tied them in a bag. Whenever they’d come back to check on it, the tape would be crumbled up, thrown on the ground somewhere, and the bag perfectly untied. Empty container nowhere to be found.

They started leaving blankets, clothes, washcloths and toilet paper. When it got colder and snow began sticking to the ground, they left a coat, some warm socks, gloves, a hat and hot packs. Duke was able to get the shoe size from a single footprint indented in white, so the next time they left food, they dropped off a size six and a half pair of snow boots and warm, fuzzy socks.

The food Tim had made for dinner…half of it he left at home, the rest of it he wouldn’t need, so he brought it all with him.

Tim swung through the rooftops of the usually busy streets. Instead, this snowy night brought white covered roads untouched by cars, and a light, orange hue to the little town compared to the night above. Fluorescent lights keeping him company in the eerie town.

He reached his destination, dropping off the food-

He hears a noise.

Tims stops what he’s doing and listens. There’s muffled grunting and a man cursing, he thinks, somewhere around the area. He abandons what’s in his hand and grapples down the beams, silently making his way towards the noise. He’s thrown off his Joker mask and put on his domino one, hoping it’ll stick long enough from its last usage of glue residue on it.

East of the old structure, down in the empty street, there’s a van parked a little bit out of distance from the street light. His fingers tap the edge of the mask, switching to nigh vision-

Five grown adult men are holding down a little girl, trying to stuff her into a sack.

Tim moves quietly, expertly, and as quickly as possible. He’s got the element of surprise on his side and makes use of it. He throws two stars at the wheels on the passenger's side, and tosses a smoke bomb beneath the car. It explodes, sending the group into a confused frenzy. Tim extends his retractable bo staff and drops into the fray.

His staff hits two goons, knocking them right out of the smoke, then vaults over another attacker. Swinging the stick hard at one of the men holding the girl down.

Cass-he’s pretty sure this is her- takes advantage of the freedom and slips out of the hold of the other two and kicks them hard using a move he’d never seen before. Then she rushes at Tim-

She doesn’t attack him.

Cass grabs a hold of his staff and slams it down on one of their feet, springing up and kicking the goon in the neck and out of the smoke.

“Holy shit .”

Together they fight off the men, then when he thinks it's time, he grabs Cass by her hand and yanks her down the alley. Together they run, flipping up the railings and running across the rooftops towards the diamond district where he’d left the Rex at-the worst thing he could have done, now that he’s thinking about it.

They’re running and running. He spares a glance behind them, there are two of them chasing after, and quickly gaining speed.

Shit.

Tim is breathing hard, looking around, trying to think- “There!” He suddenly diverts from their path, Cass follows, then he senses something behind him and turns as he’s falling off the roof to swipe the kunai from the air. He aims the hook and swings. Cass grabs a hold of the stick, and they both crash into a very old, one-story clinic that’s been abandoned. 

Or he hopes it’s abandoned, considering what he’s about to do.

Just in case he begins shouting down the halls for anyone there to get out now if they want to live. He doesn’t have the time to sit there and figure out if anyone heard him, he’s done what he can do and bee lines it for the room he knows all too well, a place he used to find purchase in for taking photos of his favorite vigilantes. He hurries inside, twisting all of the knobs he can touch, abandoning the domino mask that isn’t sticking on his face anymore. Cass sees this and begins doing the same, turning everything he couldn’t get himself. Then he takes an empty canteen and smashes the window open. Climbing onto the rooftop. 

They run to the other end of the building. Tim looks behind him. The two men are still gaining on them, hot on their tails. He grabs Cass and slings her over his shoulder, shooting out the hook while reaching into his fanny pack. The grapple locks onto the railing of the next building, and he jumps.

Like a perfect scene, the momentum begins to swing them to the opposite side of the other building. Tim is positioned at a perfect angle and the two goons are just about to jump off the roof of the clinic.

He can see the fumes of gas.

He chucks two explosives.

The whole clinic explodes into a raging fire. Engulfing the two men, and the force of tossing Tim and Cass faster than they’d been going. So strong that he lost grip and both of them fall on the trash bags of the alley nearby.

___________________

Sure, the day had been sucky. But it got better!

He saved his new companion from an abduction! Torched a thing or two, and guess what? He also got a free knife!

“Honey.” A voice said over him, but not at him. “Please stop pulling at the blinds, they might break.” The plea was completely ignored, and the blinds were still being pulled from what Tim could hear.

Tim would look but his head just wouldn’t go the way he wanted it to, but that’s okay, who needs to see when you have nice drugs in your system. Drugs really are nice. He thought. “Maybe iswhy theysellit.” Hm. His mouth felt funny.

The darker-skinned woman barely looked at him, “What was that, Baby?”

“Drugs.”

“You’re wondering why people sell drugs, is that it hun?” Tim’s head meant to move as a nod, he’s not sure if it did, but she got the gesture anyway. “Well, cause they do make people feel good, but they’re dangerous. So don’t do drugs.”

“ ‘m notgonna.” He slurred. “Promises.”

“That’s a good boy. Now, do you think you can go ahead and tell me your name now?”

A giggle fell out of his mouth, “Mnmn. Nope.~ Y’ can’t have that.~”

This is all curly-joe's fault. He just had to give him a knife like a not-normal person, who puts it in someone’s stomach? He wouldn’t. Maybe.  

Blearily, he tried moving his hands to touch his tummy. “ Wher’s it at?”

His nurse sighed, holding his hands down. “Where’s what, sweetheart?”

“ ‘m free knife. Is mine, I earned it.”

One of the officers in the room tells him terrible news. “It’s been confiscated for evidence. The police will hold onto it for you for now, okay.”

“No. Nononono. ‘S m’ knife-”

“I’ll tell you what.” Nurse Samantha chimes in. “How about we make a deal?”

A deal? Tim likes deals.

“How about you give the officer here a number to call so we can get someone here for you kids, then you can get something even better than a knife?”

“W’s better than a knife?”

“Chocolate. Cake.”

Tim also likes chocolate cake.

He closed his eyes, thinking. “How’s mny’ days it’s been?”

“How many days have you been here? Honey, you’ve only been here for five hours.”

Mrs.Mac would be sad if he messed up her holiday. His parents…

He listed off two sets of numbers for them to call. He heard the faint ringing of the first….it goes right to voicemail. Then the officer tries the second number, his father, it rings…no answer. Tim bites his lip and tries not to cry that his parents just proved him right in his head; a part of him knew they wouldn’t answer.

“Is there someone else we can call? Someone who will answer?”

Hesitantly, he nods. He reads off the number from his head that he’s known for a while now, but does his best not to ever have to use it. Words were exchanged between the two women in the room, then he could hear the faint ringing after the dial tone again. “...Hello. This is Officer Haley with the GPD. May I ask for your name, sir?” There’s a pause. Tim sees the officer regard Tim in shock, stuttering her next words. “Hi, sir. Yes. So, I’m currently at the Children's Hospital on Frederic, on the west side. I have a young boy here and a little girl-no, no. We don’t know his name or the girl’s. When the ambulance arrived, he refused to answer them, and the girl hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone. Mhm. Yes. He has black hair, blue eyes, Caucasian. About eleven…maybe twelve? I don’t know the specifics on the clinical side, but I can say that he’s just now come out of surgery for a stab wound to the stomach.” Tim could hear something of an alarm from the person on the other end of the phone. “The doctor or the nurse will be able to explain more on their end. I had just wanted to get in contact with a guardian for the sake of the kid, and so we can try to find out who did this. Mhm, yes, the doctor’s just walked in the door now.”

There’s a brief pause, then the doctor begins talking. “Dr. Sachdeva speaking, and you are…oh. Yes, hello. Yes, our patient here did just have an emergency surgery. Yes, I was the one who conducted it. The knife implanted in his stomach hit his spleen, and it had to be removed. We received the call…five or so hours ago and had prepped the bay for an emergency splenectomy…No, there weren’t any complications during the surgery other than his companion with him causing a bit of a ruckus. He’s stable, awake, but not oriented due to the anesthesia and medication we’ve given him. Right now he’s still in observation just in case something goes wrong. This sort of surgery is delicate, and the healing process will take some time. We will move him to the third floor once we feel that he’s settled, but that will be a while from now and will be available in the room he’s in for you to come see him, assuming you’re coming…mhm. Yes, sure.”

Tim felt something small and round press against his ear. “Tim?”

A sob broke out of his chest. “..m’ sorry. She said she’d gimme cake…”

“It’s alright, you’re okay. Where is Jack and Janet? Or your nanny? Alfred is readying the car now, we can drive to your house first-” another sob broke out, Tim started saying something but even he couldn’t understand it himself. “........One more time for me, kiddo. What was that?”

He sucked in a breath, exhaling. “Only Duke’s there. Mrs. Mac’s not there. Mom n’ Dad were s’posedta hav’ dinner with me n’ forgot like they always do, n then I left Duke there alone n’ Mom n’ Dad dunno he’s there.”

“....Okay. Alright, who’s Duke?”

“ m’ only family who likes me. He’s a bird.”

Bruce is silent on the other end, then slowly he says, “Okay. I will stop there and pick up Duke, then we will come to the hospital together. Eta fourty, no, thirty minutes.”

“M’kay.”

“Get some rest. If you need anything, just have Officer Haley call my phone again.”

Tim’s breath shuttered, already slipping into darkness. “..m’kay.”

______________

The next time he roused he was partially covered with something weighted and soft under his fingers, someone was prodding at his stitches. Tim swatted at whoever it was-his wrist caught mid air by large hands. Very large …very calloused hands.

A sob broke out of him. Like they were burned, the fingers stopped touching the scar on his abdomen. “Tim?”

“M’ sorry-”

Bruce shushed him, “It’s okay, Tim. You’re okay.”

“M’ not. ‘S not okay-”

“Baby bird,” Dick says on his other side. “You’ve got to calm down, I know you’re not feeling well but if you get yourself sick right now it could cause a lot of problems.”

Tim cried anyway, his throat constricting and his head beginning to hurt. The tears ran down his cheeks like lava. He tried blinking away the tears to see around him, but his eyelids were heavy and his body didn’t do what he wanted it to do. “W’rs Cass. Did Cain get her?” He sobbed again. “Pls’ tell me he didn’t-”

“She’s right here, babybird. Look.” A hand guided his head to the other side and swiped at the water on them, clearing them enough for him to see Duke resting in the armchair and Cass tucked in next to him under a blanket.

Part of him tells him that he needs to be quiet so he doesn't disturb them, so he stifles the sob he lets out, relieved to see her here, safe. Cause Cain can’t to her with Batman and Nightwing in the same room.

“See, Timmy. Cass is all right. She’s been by your side the whole time, and then Duke’s when we got here. You kept her safe.”

“I did?”

“Mhm. Yes, you did.” Dick gives his wrist a reaffirming squeeze- that’s so nice. “You did a good job, baby bird.”

It makes him cry just a little more. 

“Tim? You mentioned Cain-”

“Bruce-”

“Dick, we need to know what’s happening. Neither one of the two have explained anything. Tim is here at the hospital because he was stabbed . He’s missing an organ-a vital organ. And he just said the name of a dangerous man that he for sure never had access to on the computer, who very well could be on the way to finish the job.”

“I know that! But we should wait! Tim doesn’t need a detective right now-”

“I know that, Dick. That is what I’m doing.”

Dick’s lips purse. It’s quiet between the two, then Dick sighs and nods his head. “Yeah. Right, you're right. I see it.”

“Thank you, Chum.” Bruce’s voice is soft, fond. Tim only has a few seconds before the man begins his questioning again, which Tim really, really doesn't like. He’s shaking his head on the pillow back and forth before the words have come out. “Tim, no, stop moving so much.”

“No.. nononono. No. Pls’ don’t ask me stuff.”

Dick reaches out to stop Tim’s head from moving any further, while Bruce asks him, “Why don’t you want me to ask you anything?”

“.....gonna be mad..”

“I won’t, Tim. I promise. I just need to know what is going on so that I can protect you-”

“No-”

“-and Cass, and Duke if he’s also involved.”

Tim’s protests are cut short. His mind is groggy; all he can think about now is that the two next to him need to be kept safe, and Batman needs to know how to keep them safe. “....Cass is David Cain’s n Lady Shiva’s daughter.” His words slur, but Bruce hangs onto every one. “She’s been being ‘bused n used as weapon n’ then she got free. Duke n’ I found her here.”

Both men spare the sleeping girl a curious glance. Bruce hums, “Okay. How did you find her?”

“....I…” plucking at the blanket, “I’ve been lookin’ fr’ her since ma’ birfday…Lookin fr ‘the weapon’ he lost. N then me n’ Duke found her.”

“Tim…have you been working a case this whole time?” Bruce’s question fills Tim with guilt-he jerks his head in a nod. “Tim. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“... ‘cause you said imma need ta be good, n’ then I wasn’t. Didn’t want you mad at me cause ever’thin’s been good n’ you don’t hate me like you did.” No, that’s not right. Something about that sentence isn’t something he was supposed to say out loud.

The words slapped Bruce in the face, but the man was quick to recover. “Tim, I’ve never hated you.” He says it as if it were absolutely true, but out of all the things he doesn’t know, he knows hate. Bruce hated him on some level-at least that’s what his mind is telling him, and the pictures in his head from last year of their interactions. “Tim,” Bruce has the cover back over him and takes his other hand, holding it. “I have never hated you. I should have been nicer…I am sorry, but I couldn’t…at the time….it was hard. But I still should never have taken it out on you, you didn’t deserve that, Tim. I’m sorry. I knew what I was doing, what I did. I’ve been trying to show you what I couldn’t do before…What I wouldn’t do before.”

“Show m’ wha’?”

“That I care. I’ve been doing things to try and show you that I do care.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Tim’s lip wobbled. “ Why?” His eyes are tearing up again. “Why do you wanna? ‘S stupid. ‘S not right. ‘M not right, you shouldn’t try n’ care.”

“It is right, and it isn’t stupid, Tim-”

“Mom n’ dad aren’t here.”

“I called them…they haven’t answered, and Alfred tried running past the manor again but it didn’t look like anyone was home. I’m sure they’ll answer soon, and then they’ll be here. Your nanny-”

“Sh’s not.” He cried, shaking his head again. “Sh’s not. Stop callin her ‘at.”

“She’s not what?”

So quietly, he finally tells Bruce something he was never supposed to know, something that if he were feeling better..he never would have said out loud in front of the man. But everything hurts. His stomach, his head, his heart . “...She’s not m’ nanny. She’s m’ housekeeper.”

Decidedly, he’d closed his eyes when he said that, so he doesn’t have to see either of their faces when they find out his most guarded secret that they weren’t really supposed to know.

“Tim?” Dick asks him carefully. “What do you mean by that?”

“ s’ what I js’ said.”

“Mrs. Mac is not your nanny? If she isn’t, then who is?”

Tim kept his mouth shut.

Unfortunately, Duke had woken up at some point in the conversation and spilled details neither Wayne had known about, and shouldn’t have known about. “He doesn’t have one.” He explained. “Mrs. Mac doesn’t live in the manor, it’s just Tim….and me, but it was just Tim by himself before that. There’s no other adult in the house like, ever, and it’s weird. His parents don’t even call him, they send him emails n’ sh-stuff- formal emails-they’re never home, he’s doing everything on his own.”

“For how long?”

“Years, I think. They don’t know anything about him; they didn’t even know I was there, and they were home the last two days. They’ve been home only two times this year, two .” 

“ Duke.”

“No, since you told them all that already, they should know everything. Your parents aren’t ever home. You’ve been taking care of everything by yourself. There are no family photos in the house, no birthday cards, no awards, and you told me you never had a birthday party until just this year-”

“ No. Nononononono! St’p it.” He’s crying . “Y’ can’t tell em’ all’ve it. I gotta, I gotta take care a’ you n’ Cass n’ I can’t do it ‘f people think bad bout mom n’ dad.”

“Tim.” Bruce is hushing him. “Tim, it’s okay-”

“ No-”

“I will take care of everything.” A large hand stopped his head again. This time, it stayed there, wiping away the hot tears on his face and pushing away the hair sticking on his forehead. Tim’s eyes peel open to see through the blur that Bruce is regarding him with a look he’d always wanted from his own father. “Duke and Cassandra will be fine. You will be fine, you won’t have to worry about anything like that again, okay, Tim?”

“Yr’ gonna take care of ‘em?”

“Of all of you.”

That sounds nice. His bottom lip trembles. “....Promises?”

“Mhm. Yes, I promise.”

“..M’kay.”

Chapter Text

This is an important message that I wanted ya'll to read, because I don't think many people are paying attention to my notes or the message in the summary.

I noticed a great disportion of hits from this fic and the first two, probably because of the short word count, so I'm putting this here for ya'll to know that this is a series. None of these fics in the series is meant to be read by itself. You're going to miss important information within the fic itself if you don't read the first three, I want ya'lls experience to be positive and to not be confused.

That being said, please take the time to read the ither three fics in this series so you aren't missing out on information/build up of the story I'm telling within the series. You can find the other two when you click my profile or click "The Great Timboni" by the summary.

Thnx! Enjoy!