Chapter Text
Tim Drake does not mean to become a big brother at the age of ten, it just sort of happens.
He’s out bat-watching, his camera securely wrapped around his neck and accessory bag attached to his hip.
Moving from capture point A to B takes him through the edges of crime alley, so he’s careful and vigilant as he goes.
Which is why he sees the little shadowy figure in the first place, rifling through trash looking for treasure.
Tim grimaces, hating to see a child resorting to dumpster diving for a meal. It’s unfortunately a common occurrence in Gotham, not just found in crime alley.
Tim’s all too aware of the granola bar and snack pack of gold fish located in the side pocket of his camera bag, put there in case he felt snacky on his hunt.
He can miss a few candids for this.
Making up his mind, Tim ruffled through his camera bag and pulls out the snacks as he heads across the street to give away his loot to someone that sorely needs it.
Looking both ways for trouble, Tim makes his way into the alley and clears his throat.
He cringes as the figure bashes their head into the propped up lid.
Tiny hisses and screeches come from the figure as they stumble around the trash.
“Wait!” Tim says, all too late as the figure stumbles a little too far left and careens out of the dumpster, somersaulting head over heels onto the dirty streets of Gotham.
Tim winces at the sound the figure makes, before hurrying over to help.
“Are you okay?” Tim asks dumbly, hands out to help.
The figure sees Tim approaching and flips over themselves crab walking away from him until their back hits the dumpster they just fell out of.
Tim freezes and finally takes in the small figure in the yellowing light of the nearest street lamp.
It’s a kid alright, small and wiry limbs with skin pulled taught. They’ve got choppy light hair in a feathery bob and wide doe eyes the color of sunflowers. And flaring out behind them, all matted and dirty, are a pair of angle like wings.
Tim’s breath stutters in his chest as the child glares up at him, lips pulled back and sharp teeth on display as they hiss in warning.
Well, shit, Tim thinks, his mind eerily blank as he takes in the impossibility before him.
Tim has inexplicably found a living angel dumpster diving for scraps in the most crime ridden part of Gotham.
Right, Tim’s currently on the outskirts of crime alley.
That thought gets the old brain juices flowing.
Tim crouches down, “we need to leave. It’s not safe here.”
All he gets in return is another hiss.
Tim reaches for the kid and they squawk, lashing out with talon like nails that Tim barely dodges
They look wickedly sharp and Tim’s grateful they missed him, but doesn’t know what to do to calm this bird child down.
Does he go get Batman?
No, the vigilante is long gone from point B now, moving on in his patrol.
Besides, if Tim left now he doubted he’d find this bird child again.
This leaves everything up to him.
So Tim shoves his panic into a box and puts on a smile, channeling his inner Robin.
“It’s okay,” Tim says, “I won’t hurt you. I just want to get you somewhere safe, is that okay?”
The bird child blinks at him, a weird film sliding over their eyes before going away.
Tim picks up the goldfish crackers he dropped and opens the bag.
This interest the bird child.
They lean forward, their nose twitching as if smelling the snack in Tim’s hand.
His lips twitch unbidden into a real smile.
Tim palms a fish and slowly reaches his hand forward, fingers flat and fish on full display.
Before he can get anymore words out, the cracker is snatched form his hands and shoved into a tiny mouth.
With a few crunches it’s gone.
Tim stares. The bird child stares back, eyes locked on his snack pack.
Tim reaches back and pulls out a handful more.
He offers them up, and they are quickly snatched, one by one, and flung into the bird child’s mouth.
“I’m Tim,” Tim says, fishing out more crackers, “what’s your name?”
A shiver runs up the bird child’s body and then they open their mouth and repeat Tim’s words, tone and all back to him.
It’s uncanny and eerie, like a parrot, only his double.
“Okay,” Tim says, handing over the last of his crackers, “I’m going to call you Birdy for now.”
Birdy chirps, and points at Tim’s empty snack pack, then points at their open mouth, asking for more.
Tim takes out the granola bar and offers it up instead, tossing the empty snack pack into the dumpster behind birdy.
Birdy takes the bar and sniffs it, before taking a chunk out and chomping it happily.
Tim bits his lip and looks around, making sure they’re still alone and safe.
He’s got to get birdy out of here. Meta-humans sell for big bucks on the black market.
Tim takes off his hoodie and drapes it over Birdy’s shoulders, hiding their wings from sight.
Birdy frowns, nawing on their granola bar, but doesn’t verbally or physically protest the new weight.
Tim sighs with relief and offers his hand.
“If you follow me I’ll get you more food,” Tim says, not sure of what else he has to offer.
Birdy stares at his hand for several seconds, blinking slowly and eating the granola bar.
Tim hops from foot to foot, anxious.
Then birdy shoves the last of the granola bar in their mouth and takes Tim’s hand, waiting.
Tim tugs them forward a little and they follow, eyes wide and watching.
And then their running, Tim leading birdy through alleyways and streets on a flight home.
They barely make it to the bus stop on time, Tim’s chest heaving as he puts in the appropriate fare for two children.
The bus driver ignores them, Gothamite’s used to such strange occurrences.
Thankfully the bus is empty as it’s nearing midnight and located near crime alley.
Tim goes to the back of the bus and sits down. Birdy, a whole head smaller than Tim struggled to pull themselves up onto the seat beside him while still holding Tim’s hand.
They let out a little chirp as they sit down and then turned to Tim, eyes wide.
They point at Tim, then point at their mouth and mime chewing.
“In a bit,” Tim says, “I’ve got loads of food at my house.”
Birdy frowns, but relents and turns to watch out the window beside them.
Tim lets out a breath and turns to do the same, unsure of what to do next.
<><><>
They get off at the stop just outside of Bristol, and Tim gives a tug for Birdy to follow.
They make the thirty minute walk from the bus stop to the Drake manor gates in silence.
As Tim inputs the code he thanks whatever deity there is that his parents are still away for at least another two months.
If they were here now, he doesn’t know how he’d explain Birdy.
He lets them in the front door, not needing to sneak around with his parents away.
Tim takes his shoes off and goes to tell Birdy to do the same, only to realizes their not wearing any shoes, their feet bare, dirty and cut up.
“Your hurt!” Tim cries and bends down to look closer at Birdy’s feet.
Birdy cheeps and steps back, leaving little red footprints in their wake.
Tim looks up at them. Birdy points at Tim then to their mouth.
Tim sighs, and then leads them to the kitchen.
He raids the pantry, taking out more goldfish, granola bars, a big bag of beef jerky, and some fruit gummies.
He plops down his haul on the floor in front of where Birdy crouches waiting.
Birdy inspects the haul, sniffing each package for a few seconds before moving on.
When they reach the beef jerky, their eyes widen and claws grip into plastic and pull.
Jerky explodes out of the package and rains down on them and the clean white kitchen linoleum.
Birdy chirps happily and starts plucking beef jerky from Tim’s hair, shoving the pieces in their mouth.
Tim sighs and shakes the remaining jerky from his hair.
“You stay here and eat Birdy,” Tim says, getting to his feet, “I’ll go get a first aid kit. Your feet need to be looked at.”
Birdy ignores him, gorging themselves on floor jerky, crouched like, well, a bird, on the tip of their feet.
Tim shakes his head and leaves for the bathroom, pulling out a first aid kit. He frowns down at it, unsure of what to do with this meta-human bird child he’s found and taken into his home.
He can’t take care of them forever. Eventually his parents will be home and then what will he do.
Tim shakes his head, that’s a problem for future Tim. Right now, Birdy needs aid.
So Tim closes the cabinet and heads back into the kitchen.
Birdy hasn’t moved from their spot, hands full of beef jerky as they munch.
Tim takes the time to better take in the meta-human child he’s found.
They can’t be older than five.
Birdy is small, a skinny thing with stick arms and legs that look as easy to break as porcelain. They’re only wearing a white hospital night gown that’s been dirtied by alley grime and dumpster juices.
Their gender is still a mystery to Tim, their features androgynous and pretty like a doll.
In the kitchen light, Tim can make out the smattering of light freckles over Birdy’s nose and cheeks.
Their sunflower yellow eyes are eerie to look at, not a natural color for human eyes.
Tim sets down the first aid kit and kneels by Birdy’s side.
“Can I look at your feet?” Tim asks softly, trying to mimic how he’s heard Robin speak to young victims.
Birdy blinks at him, mouth full of jerky.
Then they lean back and flop down on their bottom, letting their feet sprawl out in front of them.
Whether or not Birdy can communicate is still up in the air, but at least they seem to understand Tim.
Tim leans forward, carefully picking up Birdy’s foot, only to find smooth pale skin.
Tim blinks, sets down the foot and picks up the other one.
It, like the first, is perfectly fine.
Tim looks behind him at the path of bloody footprints that lead from the front door to the kitchen.
Those are definitely Birdy’s, small and bare.
The only explanation Tim can think of is accelerated healing. Birdy’s got more than just the wings on their back.
Birdy’s now gotten into the goldfish, beef jerky all gone.
Tim doesn’t know what to do now, but he knows that he’s now responsible for Birdy.
<><><>
Birdy turns out to be a girl, Tim finding out when he finally gets around to cleaning her.
He focuses on her wings and mimes how to clean the rest of her body with a soapy cloth.
It’s a long hour process with Tim picking through bent and broken feathers, careful not to remove anything important as he hopes he preens Birdy’s wings properly.
Once she’s cleaned and given a pair of Tim’s old pajamas with slits made in the back for her wings, Birdy pulls the comforter and pillows off of Tim’s bed and makes a nest on the floor.
She kneads it with her claws and then curls on into a ball on her stomach and promptly goes to sleep.
Tim just goes into the hall closet to get some new pillows and blankets for his bed and quickly follows Birdy’s example.
Luckily it’s Friday and the weekend looms in the future.
<><><>
Weeks pass and Tim and Birdy fall into a routine.
Tim had taken the first week with Birdy off of school, claiming the flu using his parent’s fake email account that he set up.
Tim had used the time to help learn about Birdy and get her settled into life at Drake Manor.
Tim should probably leave her to the heroes, tell Batman or Superman, but he just can’t.
Birdy’s open trust in him after he offered her some goldfish really endeared the little girl to him.
Besides, he’s always wanted a younger sibling.
He raids the library on all bird books that he can find.
After hours of researching while Birdy picked weeds and flowers bringing them over to Tim for identification, Tim was ninety-eight percent sure that Birdy’s wings were that of a white-winged dove.
He’d also observed several bird-like behaviors from her.
Birdy seemed to be an omnivore, having no problem eating almost anything Tim gave her.
She seemed to mostly have an aversion for anything processed, the only expectations being crackers, beef jerky, and dried fruits.
He didn’t want Birdy accidentally eating anything she shouldn’t, so he started curating the weekly grocery delivery to better fit a birds diet.
Any candy still around the house was tossed out.
Tim had to be responsible now.
He’s also ordered a bean bag, a giant pillow like mattress, and several smaller pillows and fuzzy blankets all for Birdy’s nest.
For now she sleeps beside Tim’s bed and the big bay window that overlooks the Drake’s giant backyard.
When his parents return, Tim’s already got his walk-in closet set up for Birdy.
He gets her set up with online school a few months later, after he’s taught her how to read and write at a third grade level.
It’s not the best - Tim feels terrible leaving Birdy alone for hours on end - but it’s the best they can do.
<><><>
Tim’s parents come home after several delays and stay for a weekend before heading off on their next globe trotting adventure.
They don’t notice Tim sneak food from the pantry to bring up to Birdy.
They don’t even notice the extra pair of children’s shoes by the doorway.
All they do is check Tim’s report card that came in a month ago, compliment him on being the man of the house, and up his credit card limit to five thousand dollars a month for his good grades and good behavior.
They don’t even remember to wish Tim a happy long since belated birthday.
It’s okay.
At least now when they leave, Tim is not alone.
<><><>
Bat-watching is much easier now with Birdy to help.
They dye her white plumage black to blend into the Gotham night sky and smog.
Decked out in all black, they easily blend into the shadows, similar to Batman.
Birdy now flies Tim around from points A-D for his pictures. And they even have time to scout out places like the harbor, warehouse district, and other crime ridden areas.
They get good pictures of black alley deals and other shady going-ons, printing the evidence and have Birdy drop them off on the roof near Batman’s bat signal so that Jim Gordon can find them.
It feels nice to help, Tim thinks with a smile.
Everything is great for the next eight months.
Then, Jason Todd dies at the hands of the Joker, and Batman isn’t the same anymore.
He’s much more violent, reckless, and probably suicidal.
Batman takes hits he could easily dodge, taking on more pain to try and stymie the all consuming grief he must feel.
The dark knight that would comfort victims of abuse and give resources to men caught stealing food for their families is gone.
When Batman beats a normal pickpocket so bad that the man is left unmoving and wheezing on the alleyway ground, leaving him without even calling the cops or other needed emergency services, Tim figures that someone has got to step up.
Making sure Batman is long gone, Tim and Birdy, scale down the fire escape of the building they were on and approach the beaten man.
Tim’s got his burner phone out, ready to call for an ambulance when something miraculous happens.
Birdy approaches the man, a faint glow coming off of her that makes Tim blink in disbelief.
When she takes the man’s hand, bones mend together, his twisted leg straightening and leveling out.
Cuts and marks of what will be bruises disappear or mend themselves together.
The man is still unconscious, but he seems to now be fully healed.
The glow around Birdy, dissipates and Birdy turns to him eyes wide and searching.
“Did good?” Birdy asks, her own speech still under development.
They’ve found out Birdy’s vocal cords were designed more for brief mimicry, so making them strong enough for normal everyday speech is still a challenge.
Tim pats her head, Birdy melting into his touch so easily.
“Yes, Birdy,” Tim says, smiling sadly, “you did good.”
Birdy, chirps, her wings fluttering in pure joy.
Tim hates that Birdy has to see this, wants her to only see good things.
Tim takes Birdy’s hand and they disappear into the night.
<><><>
Batman needs Robin, that much is clearly evident to Tim.
But not just anyone can be Robin.
They have to be trained and have time to be Robin.
Which is why he tracks down Dick Grayson first, the original boy wonder.
He pleads his case, showing all the evidence he and Birdy have gathered.
Dick says he’ll take care of it and thanks Tim for his concern.
Birdy watches with her wide, unblinking eyes the whole time, her wings still small enough to be hidden by an oversized hoodie.
Nightwing starts patrolling Gotham together with Batman, but it’s not the same.
Batman doesn’t need an equal on the field, he needs a partner, someone that can keep him in check and focused.
So when Batman and Nightwing get captured by Two Face, Tim dawns a deep red hoodie, black tights, and a black masquerade mask that his parents got years ago for a gala.
Birdy is already a ghost, but they retouch her wings with black dye and she dawns a matching white masquerade mask.
Birdy flies them to the roof of the warehouse that Two Face is occupying and they delve into the vents.
Both of them are small enough to fit and Tim downloaded the building layout to his Apple Watch for coordination.
It goes surprisingly easy, Tim using homemade smoke bombs to trip up Two Face’s goons and then using hit and run tactics with Birdy going high and Tim going low.
Before Two Face can even blink he’s alone and cornered by two kids in matching hoodies.
“I thought the Joker offed you,” Two Face growls, gaze flicking between Tim and Birdy, “but suddenly you’ve multiplied?”
While Two Face focuses on Tim for a second, Birdy picks up a gun.
Panic seizes Tim’s heart, “Birdy, no!”
Birdy doesn’t shot Two Face’s like he thinks she will. Instead she lobs the gun as hard as she can and it bashes off of Two Face’s, well, face, knocking him off balance.
Birdy uses the moment to strike, all six-year-old terror with claws on both her hands and feet with flapping wings.
Two Face screams quite unmanly and tumbles down a flight of stairs, knocking himself out cold on the way down.
Birdy easily lands at the top of the stairs and goes to lick the blood off of her nails.
Tim is quick to seize her hands and wipe away the blood with wet wipes he has in his pouch of all things for this mission.
“We don’t lick other people’s blood,” Tim tells her seriously.
“Why?” Birdy asks, all curiosity.
She’s very curious for her age, which means that Tim’s doing a good job raising her according to half a dozen parenting books he’s been reading in his spare time.
“Because it could have diseases in it,” Tim explains like a responsible big brother, “you could get sick.”
“Okay,” Birdy agrees easily, bumping Tim’s hand for head pats.
He offers them freely, then turns to Batman and Nightwing’s restrained forms.
Batman’s expression is hidden behind his cowl, but Nightwing is easy to read.
He’s all panic, elation, and hysteria. His face spasming between a smile and concern.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Batman says, as Tim starts picking the lock on the restraints keeping him down.
Birdy hisses, taking Batman’s words as a threat, her wings flaring up in an act of intimidation.
“Hmmm,” Batman hums, standing up to his full height.
“B,” Nightwing says, border-lining hysteria, “that is a whole ass bird child.”
Tim moves over to pick Nightwing’s cuffs and when he’s finished the vigilante gives him a pat on the head that he can’t help but lean into.
Nightwing frowns as Batman restrains Two Face and sends out a call for the police to come pick him up.
“We’ll reconvene in the cave,” Batman says, leaving no room for argument, “all of us.”
Tim jumps at that, not expecting to be included.
“Tim, Hungry,” Birdy says, tugging on Tim’s sleeve, “done now?”
“We’ve got snacks in the cave,” Nightwing offers.
Birdy doesn’t even spare him a glance.
“Tim,” Birdy says again, “home time?”
“In a bit Birdy,” Tim says, petting her hair, “I think I should talk with Batman.”
Birdy chirps and leans into the touch, “okay.”
<><><>
The Batcave is all kinds of wonderful and Tim can barely hold in his excitement.
Alfred, the Wayne family butler, comes down to the cave with finger sandwiches and juice.
Birdy clocks them the minute the old man comes down the stairs.
“Tim,” Birdy says, “eat, okay?”
“Please help yourselves, young miss,” Alfred says, offering the plate to Birdy.
Birdy goes to grab one, then stops and looks to Tim waiting for the okay.
At least she’s been listening to his talks about stranger danger.
“It’s okay, Birdy,” Tim says, “you can eat.”
Birdy chirps happily and snatches a sandwich before flapping her wings for lift and perching on a hard rail near the computer.
Nightwing makes a noise, hands out as if to stop Birdy.
“She’ll be fine,” Tim says, “perching feels natural to her. She won’t lose her balance.”
Nightwing pulls back as Birdy quickly finishes off her sandwich, looks at her now empty hands, then makes grabby motions towards Alfred and the plate of sandwiches.
Alfred shuffles over and Birdy grabs two more sandwiches, clucking in delight.
Tim smiles and when Alfred offers him the plate of sandwiches takes one to be polite.
Batman pulls down his cowl, and his eyes narrow, assessing.
“What you did was reckless and dangerous,” Batman says, “you could have been killed.”
Tim squares his shoulders, “we knew the risks.”
Tim pauses and glances at Birdy, “I knew the risks and Birdy wouldn’t let me go out alone at night, she gets lonely.”
“I didn’t know the Drakes had adopted a meta-human,” Batman says.
“No one does,” Tim says with a shrug, “I found her about a year ago on the streets, digging through a dumpster for food. I couldn’t just leave her alone.”
Batman hums, “why did you come out tonight?”
And Tim hesitates, because he knows if Batman knows he’s been following the dark knight since Dick’s Robin days, he’ll make sure Tim can never leave his house again.
“Well,” Tim says, nervously tapping his fingers against his side, “we were following you. You’ve been more violent, more reckless. It’s not good for Gotham. You need a partner than can keep you in check.”
And Batman full body shutters, his stare turning hard, “no. Never again.”
“But-“ Tim tries to protest.
“No,” Batman reaffirms, “I already lost a son to this fight. I will not lose someone else’s.”
And Tim hardens himself, “you need oversight. This is not up for negotiation. Gotham needs a Robin and I’m willing to fill the position.”
Batman opens his mouth to no doubt vehemently protest some more, but Nightwing stops him, his domino mask in hand.
“B, I understand your hesitation, but this might be good for you.”
Batman’s frown deepens.
Then Nightwing whispers something into his ear and his eyes narrow.
Batman looks back to Tim, “very well. But you won’t be out in the field until I deem you ready. Is that understood?”
And Tim smiles with stars in his eyes and nods.