Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The death of Jason Todd was all over the news and Timothy Jackson Drake was sick to his stomach. 

Robin was dead. Robin was dead and no one seemed to know except maybe Batman and Batman was angry, he was angry and vengeful and if things didn’t stop, someone was going to die.

And Tim thought he might be the only person who could stop it. 

Dick Grayson had told Tim in no uncertain terms that he was not going to go back to being Robin. He had even written the list of reasons he was convinced it was a bad idea down.

When Tim had laid out all the reasons those reasons didn’t really matter because things were going to get really, really bad if there was no Robin, Dick shook his head and told Tim that he should be Robin.

Him! Timothy Jackson Drake as Robin. It was unthinkable.

John Constantine was a miserable man and he was very, very difficult to track down and even more difficult to blackmail. He’d managed it. Eventually. 

“I hope things go well for you, because I want nothing to do with you, ya miserable bugger.”

”Will do, thanks for the help, John.”

He ignored the grumbled, “Don’t call me that.”

Timothy Jackson Drake woke up in his nine year old body, clutching an artifact he really had no business possessing, with all his memories intact.

He wondered, briefly, why the artifact had chosen that day, only to realize it was the day after his first night stalking Batman and Robin. Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.

Things were going to be different and Jason wasn’t going to die.

So in hindsight, getting Willis Todd out of jail may have been a bad idea. He stared blankly at the body bags being loaded into an ambulance. 

In his defense, if he had known Willis was abusive, let alone abusive enough to kill himself and his family when his debts caught up to him, he wouldn’t have needed to do a lot of illegal things to get Willis Todd released from prison prior to his death.

His eyes opened the morning after his first night stalking the Bat and his ward.

Tim hadn’t realized that Catharine Todd had been hooked on drugs for a very long time until he tried to prevent her from getting on them in the first place.

Apparently removing any drug dealers that could approach her had just driven her to shadier and shadier people. 

The overdose happened because she took a bad batch.

His eyes opened, fingers curled around the artifact that probably counted as stolen by then. He had promised to return it to John after the first reset. 

Tim was a liar.

The thing Tim learned, after five loops of trial and error, was that there was no way to get Catharine Todd into a clean drug rehabilitation center. And even if he could, that still left Jason in the system.

The thing that he was learning was that Catharine Todd was going to die of an overdose and he had more time to get Jason into a safe foster home if she died later and didn’t go to rehab.

Because the foster homes Jason had wound up in weren’t safe.

Six loops after that, Tim realized there was no way to get Jason into a safe foster home—and how was he supposed to get Jason to be Robin if he was joining gangs, being killed by foster family’s, other fosters in the house, suffering.

It wasn’t that there weren’t good foster parents in Gotham, it was just that the ones there were didn’t want to take on the pre-teen who had a history of trying to run away, biting people when he felt threatened, a father dead in prison, and a mother dead of an overdose. They wanted… more presentable foster kids.

When Tim woke up the next time he knew he would be condemning Jason to live on the streets for at least a few months.

He would just have to keep Jason alive and bring Batman to him as fast as possible.

It took him another ten loops to get to the point of Jason being adopted. Jason had been shot and killed, Tim had been shot and almost killed, Tim’s interference had caused them to miss each other, Jason had died of a fever, twice, and Batman had left Jason in foster care more than once.

It was infuriating.

But Jason was Robin. For the first time in what felt like years to Tim. For the first time in what was years for Tim, Jason was Robin.

He sobbed the first time he saw Jason in the Robin uniform.

The next thing was ensuring that Jason didn’t die. Which was easier said than done.

Jason died more than once to just a stray mugger.

Killing the Joker didn’t save him because a different rouge would come along and do it. Scarecrow, Bane, Poison Ivy, etc.

Killing all the rouges didn’t work because Gotham bred rogues like an illegal backyard puppy mill.

Killing the new rogues didn’t work because killing a bunch of rouges—which took a few attempts to get right anyways—tended to get Batman’s attention on him and he couldn’t scheme from prison. Or Arkham.

So killing the rogues wasn’t an option. Which meant he had to find some other way to keep Jason from dying.

Or perhaps to let him die before a swift return to the living?

Tim spent his longest loop yet as a disciple of Ra’s Al Ghul.

If he didn’t want to kill the man after twelve years under his tutelage, seeing how the man treated his grandson certainly made it so. 

Tim wasn’t stupid, he could see Bruce Wayne in the younger boy’s face. He knew who the boy’s mysterious father was. 

Damian was a perfectly good boy that Ra’s was determined to fuck up and Tim wouldn’t stand for it. Even if it was just to fuck with Ra’s— which it wasn’t—Tim would do something about that going forward.

Tim woke up as a nine year old. He had tried to challenge Ra’s for the throne after finally getting fed up. 

It had ended with him activating the charm he had taken to wearing like a necklace as he took what should have been his last breaths.

Nine loops later and nothing was working.

Sneaking Jason in under Ra’s’s nose hadn’t worked even though Tim knew all the secret back passages.

Bargaining with Ra’s hadn’t ended well.

Bargaining with Talia hadn’t ended well.

Trying to integrate himself and then lead a rebellion hadn’t ended well.

When he finally gotten Jason’s body there the first time it had been too late. Even with the talisman he had blackmailed out of John Constantine to slow the death, Jason had been gone, and there was no saving the dead.

The next time his interference had led to there not being enough of a body to revive. Let alone a live body.

When everything had gone right Jason had come back so wrong that Tim knew he had to leave that path behind.

Leaving behind the League of Assassins was hard. It was harder to get Damian out of there.

He had to do it and vowed to continue returning for the boy who he had come to want to protect.

Talia might be a worthwhile ally in those circumstances.

Tim, after what was probably by that point decades of trial and error, had learned that the tipping point in almost every single loop was Jason getting into a fight with Batman and discovering his biological mother and running away.

Tim was not able to prevent the fight, it always inevitably happened.

Tim was not able to prevent Jason from discovering his biological mother. He had learned—through painful experience—that time had certain events it refused to change, no matter how much he cajoled. 

He refused to let Jason’s death be one of them.

When presented with evidence that his biological mother was a bad person Jason had insisted on saving her from herself. It hadn’t worked.

When informing Alfred Pennyworth or Batman of his plans to run, Jason still managed it somehow.

Which meant Tim had to prevent him from running away.

On the plus side, the practice had allowed him to get saving Damian from the cult down to a T.

Chapter Text

Jason knew that Bruce probably knew about the way Jason snuck out. He had never called Jason on it, of course, but he probably knew. Which was why Jason had to get out, before Bruce remembered the secret ways out and barred him from using them because, oh yeah, Bruce didn’t trust him.

Bruce had to know that there was a hole in the massive stone walls surrounding the Drake estate, but the Drake’s didn’t.

It was a long trek to get to the Drake and Wayne border, so he didn’t go that route out often and Bruce would likely be monitoring it less. 

He’d still be monitoring it, the paranoid bastard, but not as closely, and that tiny edge was what he needed.

Unfortunately, when he squeezed through the crumbling hole, dragging his go-bag behind him, he emerged to the sight of Timothy Jackson Drake, primly sitting on a log.

”Hello.” Timothy's smile was as ice cold as glass as he watch Jason finish hauling himself off the Wayne property.

Jason groaned, heaving himself to his feet. “Look, do you think you could just, pretend you didn’t see me? I’m kind of running away and I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Because honestly, why was Timothy even on the Drake property border? What were the chances he was in this one specific area, staring at the one specific hole Jason planned on using? He felt unease crawl up his spine.

“No. I need to show you something.”

”You… knew I was coming through there?” It made a scary amount of sense. Except Jason hadn’t known what he was planning even an hour earlier.

”You usually do,” Timothy muttered, which… wasn’t true but didn’t calm Jason down much more.

”Look, ah… I actually need to get out of here before something happens. If… if B catches me.”

Timothy snorted. “He won’t. Come on. You need to see something.”

Jason hesitated. “Look, I know Bruce seems kind of—“

”Batman does not know about that hole. I made sure of it. And I know how to act like I have no idea why he’s at my house, but I have friends over and my parents aren’t home, and really sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you inside.”

Jason blinked as he found a small hand clutching onto his. He was pretty sure something had gone very, very wrong.

”How— I thought you were twelve?”

Timothy glanced back at him as he began towing Jason through the forest. “Depends on how you count it.”

Jason’s mind was screaming at him to run, but honestly, Timothy was offering to shelter him from Bruce and he needed to get away, and maybe he could take the opportunity to figure out what the fuck was happening.

Because honestly, he was more than a little freaked out.

Jason stared at the five year old glaring at him from across the Drake kitchen table.

”B has a kid."

”Tt, I am my father’s offspring. And who are you?”

Jason drew himself up. “I’m J— actually, you know what, I’m nobody. I wasn’t here. You didn’t see me.” Jason turned back to Timothy. “Where the hell did you find this kid?”

”The League of Assassins. Talia was actually pretty happy to get him out of there once I warned her about Ra’s’s plans.”

Jason stared, looking between the two younger kids. “I have so many questions.”

”You’re welcome to ask them,” Timothy informed him in a way that Jason knew he wasn’t promising to answer anything.

”Who— who did B— I—“

”Talia. You should let Mr. Wayne tell Officer Grayson, he’ll be less furious that way.”

”How the hell do you even know that,” Jason whined. 

Timothy grinned cryptically at him.

Jason sighed. “Why… why do I need to know about— you said his name was Damian?”

”That is Damian Al Ghul to you, cretin.”

Jason blinked. “You’re five.”

”Tt. I hardly see how that is any of your concern.”

Timothy rolled his eyes. “See, you need to bring him back over to the Wayne estate and introduce him to Mr. Wayne.”

Jason took a deep breath. “No.”

”I didn’t say you have a choice.”

Jason restrained himself. Punching a twelve year old was not a good idea. “I’m running away. I am going to run away and B isn’t going to find me.”

”Either he will or someone hell bent on killing you will,” Timothy declared with so much certainty that it reminded him how fucking creepy the kid was. “Besides, I can’t approach Mr. Wayne and someone needs to take Damian to him.”

Damian sniffed. “I am fully capable of caring for myself. I have already completed the test of resiliency.”

Jason felt like he was going to regret asking. “What the hell is the test of resiliency.”

Damian stared at him like he was stupid. “You must climb from the base to the summit of a mountain over eight kilometers tall unassisted.”

Jason gapped at him. “Once again, you’re like, five.”

”I shall be six in two months. Again, I hardly see what that has to do with my competency.”

Jason sucked in an unsteady breath. “I think I see why you stole him.”

Timothy’s eye twitched. “Damian, you may be fully capable, but your father is a very, very paranoid man. And in America unaccompanied children, especially your age, are cause for concern and once again, this is a stealth mission, you must blend in.”

He turned those piercing blue eyes on Jason. “I did not ‘steal’ Damian, his mother willingly relinquished him into my care so as to bring him to his father. Ra’s may be upset, but honestly, that’s a bonus.”

Damian snapped something in a language that sounded vaguely like Arabic, and Timothy responded in the same language.

Once he had finished, Jason spoke up. “Look, this is great and all, but why can’t you just walk him over.”

”I’m attempting to avoid the notice of Batman. I have had negative experiences with him, even if the reverse is not true. Additionally, I will be unable to stay and care for Damian during the integration process, I’m sure you recall how jarring that was, and you came from Gotham.”

”I figured it out just fine.”

”But imagine if Officer Grayson had been a more stable presence during that process. Would it have not made things easier?”

Jason scowled. “Dick hated me.”

”Does he hate you now?”

”No.” Jason replied mulishly.

”Imagine having the brother you have now to help. Besides, you two have gotten closer, and by running away you are leaving him behind as well. And Mr. Pennyworth.”

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t like he wanted to run away. But Bruce didn’t trust him, and if he was lucky he’d be locked in the manor for the rest of his miserable life. That… that wasn’t worth it. Was it?

”Why are you avoiding B?”

Timothy shifted, finally dropping his gaze. “He has… once he comes into further contact with me, it is inevitable that he will begin to see me as a threat.”

”You’re already a threat. You know who we are, you apparently have connections to the League of Assassins, you know way more than you should.”

Timothy shook his head. “I don’t mean the kind of threat that must be monitored, though I cannot allow for that either. I mean the kind of threat you must subdue.”

”Timothy—“

”Tim.”

”Tim, you’re twelve, Bruce he— he and I can’t stay together. But you, he’s not going to hurt you. You’re twelve.”

Tim shuddered. “I wish that were true, Jason.” He stood up and dug something out of a draw near the doorway. He came back holding a plastic baggie. “Here. There’s proof that you didn’t kill him on there.”

Jason took it gingerly, staring at Tim. “What— I— how?”

”I was there, I took a video. It’s on the thumb drive. Show Mr. Wayne. He should have believed you, but now he just will.”

”You… you were there?”

Tim shrugged. “Take Damian in exchange for the thumb drive.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at the twerp and beckoned Damian over. “Fine. You’re not going to vanish the moment I leave, are you?”

Tim blinked at him slowly, then gestured Damian over to Jason. “I have to stay in Gotham.”

“Have too?” Jason questioned as Damian trudged over to him, looking very unhappy about it.

Tim shrugged. “I have to… monitor things.”

“Will you stay here, in Drake Manor?”

Tim looked at him with tried, hollow eyes. “Yes.” It sounded like a lie.

Jason swallowed. “And I-- I really can’t convince you to come to Wayne Manor with us?”

Tim shook his head. “I cannot allow Mr. Wayne to-- to subdue me. I ask that you not inform him of my presence, but… I don’t expect your silence.”

“Tim, please?”

Tim shook his head again. “Please leave. The sooner Damian is in Mr. Wayne’s care, the sooner is outside the reach of Ra’s.”

Jason took a deep breath. He would-- he would bring Bruce over as soon as he got Damian home. He would. And they’d find Tim and Bruce could-- could… thank him? Look into his homelife? Something wasn’t right and Bruce could help.

He knew he was lying to himself even as he thought it.

Bruce was down at the gates so fast Jason almost wondered if he’d flown down.

Jason tried not to cry as Bruce wrapped him up in a fierce hug. “Jay-lad. Jay-lad, I-- don’t ever--” He squeezed tighter.

Damian coughed.

Bruce immediately let go and took two quick steps back so he could assess the new person. Jason saw the realization and devastation crash into him as he put the pieces together.

“Damian, Bruce. Bruce, Damian. Listen, Tim Drake, the neighbor kid? He found Damian. More like stole him, from-- from fucking Ra’s. I think Tim’s going to try and make a break for it, we have to go back so you can-- you have to fix things, B. Please.”

Bruce frowned, glancing between the boys. 

Damian scoffed. “Timothy has surely left his place of residence already. He is no fool.”

Jason cringed. “I know. I know. Just-- please! We have to find him. Somethings-- somethings wrong. B, please.”

Bruce nodded and turned to the approaching Alfred. “Alfred, if you wouldn’t mind, get the car ready. Damian… you’re…”

Damian jutted his chin out definitely. “I am your son. Damian Al Ghul.”

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. It’s nice to meet you Damian. We can talk about this later, just know you will have a place in my home. Jason, please take Damian inside while Alfred and I--”

“Hell no, Old Man. I don’t give a fuck if I’m benched, Tim’s scared of you. I’m coming with.”

“Jay-lad--”

“No. Something’s wrong. I want to help.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped, but he gave Damian a weak smile. “Do you boys fancy a car ride?”

Damian eyed him warily, but nodded his ascent. 

Jason pulled the baggie with the thumb drive out of his pocket. “Tim says this should prove I didn’t kill anyone. You can look at it later.”

Bruce blinked down at it and look the bag gently from Jason. “Alright, Jay-Lad. Alright.”

Alfred arrived with the car and they all piled in.

Tim was gone by the time they made it back to Drake manor and there were no clues as to where he’d gone.

Jason wanted to curl up into a little ball and sob.

Bruce found him in the library, curled up in one of the massive arm chairs with Jane Eyre. Boy was Mr. Rochester was creepy.

Jason didn’t look up when Bruce put two mugs of hot cocoa on the coffee table before settling into the neighboring armchair. He just kept reading.

“Jay-Lad.”

Jason kept reading.

Bruce placed the thumb drive on the table between them.

Jason stared at it for a long moment before slowly closing his book. “What?”

“I haven’t looked at it yet. I will look at it because I need to know exactly what’s on there. But I haven’t looked at it yet.”

Jason scowled. “So?”

“I want you to know, Jay-Lad, that I believe you. I don’t think you killed Garzonas.”

Jason swallowed and looked away from Bruce. “Are you sure? I’m violent and unstable, remember?"

“Jay-Lad, I-- I shouldn’t have said that. I was… scared. For you. I wanted-- I was scared. But that doesn’t make it okay. And I want you to know that I believe you, and I don’t need to look at the thumb drive to believe you.”

“You’re… sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jason was fifteen. He was too old to be crying in his Dad’s lap. He still got out of his chair and crawled up onto Bruce’s so he could bury his face in his Dad’s chest.

Chapter Text

Bruce had suspected that they wouldn’t find Timothy in Drake manor, but it was still a blow, one that hit Jason especially hard, to find the boy gone.

In the days after Bruce had asked Jason to give a detailed report about what had happened. He’d asked Damian too, but the young boy had refused to answer him, showing a surprising amount of loyalty to Timothy.

In the end, Bruce had his suspicions. Repeated, long-term time travel was top of the list. Either that or Timothy had some kind of meta ability that connected him to the multi-verse.

Either way, Bruce didn’t want to let the boy go.

He put the Drake Manor under surveillance and set it up so he’d be alerted if Timothy arrived at school.

Three things became readily apparent in the following weeks. One: The Drakes were gone a lot and didn’t seem to have realized their son was missing. Two: While Timothy was almost never marked absent from school, he had a long history of not being there. According to his teachers, he was marked absent when he wasn’t there. Three: If Timothy did not want to be found, he was incredibly difficult to find.

It started with a group of college students.

Timothy paid their rent, in exchange, they let him stay there without putting him on the lease. He left less than a week before Bruce could track him down.

According to one of the boys, they let him because they were broke college students and he was a better roommate than half of them anyways.

According to one of the girls he was a sweet kid who helped her with her homework and shared his groceries with everyone.

No one had questioned the tiny twelve year old paying their rent, clearly hiding from something, and smart enough to help a masters student with her homework.

Bruce wanted to say he was surprised, but they were Gothamites, and he couldn’t.

Talia told him of a boy who’d come, speaking League Arabic, and warned her of the future her father would bring.

She said she thought he might have used the Lazarus pit, considering he acted much older than she thought he was.

The fact that she’d trusted some strange pre-teen to take Damian to him told Bruce many things.

John responded to his message about three months after Bruce sent it. One of his magical artifacts, one that could send someone back through time, had been missing for almost four years.

And of course, John hadn’t thought to mention it.

He didn’t know who had it, either. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Bats. It just disappeared someday, which means someone used it at some point in the future. Then the little shit didn’t come give it back. No, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Bruce hung up on him.

A group of sex workers recognized the little boy Batman showed them.

“Sometimes,” the woman dressed in pink explained, “he’ll pay one of us with a kitchen to use it. Just for a while. He usually shares whatever he’s made with us too. Always wondered what a boy with enough money for that was doing without a kitchen. He gonna be okay?”

Batman grunted. “I’ll try.”

The woman with shiny blue hair that Bruce could see was a wig tutted. “He better be. Sweeter kid than most people you meet out here.”

“If that’s all,” the woman dressed in pink cut in, “we’d appreciate it if you left. You’re scaring the johns.”

Bruce took out some money to pay them all for their time and as an apology. Before he left, he hesitated just long enough to warn them, “The police are planning a sweep of this neighborhood for the next week starting tomorrow. Be careful.”

A woman who was wearing heels so high Bruce was genuinely slightly afraid of her blew him a kiss. “Thanks for the heads up. Bye-bye now.”

Bruce took the dismissal for what it was. He didn’t want to get in the way of their work any more than he already had.

Timothy, as it turned out, was switching to online school and repeating a grade. Bruce grit his teeth.

He had Jason ask around to see if anyone had been friends with Timothy. Jason reported back that barely anyone even knew him. 

The thing he was most known for was skipping most of his classes and still showing up to get perfect scores on all his tests.

The Riddler, of all people, was the next place Bruce got a clue.

He’d let it slip, in a moment of frustration, that he was looking for a kid.

Somehow that turned into the Riddler telling him about a tiny ten year old who’d threatened him away from hurting Robin. 

According to Eddie, the kid had used some extremely gory threats, and not only that, he talked about them like he’d done every last one to someone else before.

Considering what Bruce had been able to weasel out of Talia, he wasn’t surprised.

There was still no news of Timothy’s disappearance in the media.

According to his surveillance, the Drakes had been home three times since their son had disappeared. Not once did they appear alarmed.

Bruce decided that, whether he’d lived long enough to consider himself an adult or not, he was going to take Timothy in himself.

All he had to do was actually find the boy.

There was a group of goons, Bane’s drugged up goons, tied together in a loose circle, all groaning and half conscious.

There was a note stuck to one of their heads. 

They were plotting to kill Robin. I stopped them. They’re still alive, I didn’t kill them, you don’t have to keep coming after me, please.

-T

Bruce wanted to scream. Timothy had the entirely wrong idea of everything.

Penguin frowned when Matches Malone asked if he’d seen a boy matching Timothy’s description in the Iceburg Lounge.

“He comes in, not very often. Sometimes he’s offering his services to someone. Usually he’s blackmailing someone into not doing something. Why? He threaten you?”

Bruce shrugged. “My nephew, I’ve told you about my nephew before, haven’t I? Bright boy, loves to read, straight As in school, anyway, he’s a-- well, I dunno. A friend I think? Maybe. Anyway, this kid ran away from home, it seems. Poor Jamie’s worried about the kid. Asked me to look into it, so I said I would, you know? Couldn’t bear to disappoint him. He’s my sister’s kid, you know? She’s such a sweet heart and he’s inherited her bleeding heart, you see.”

Penguin did not see, but he seemed to buy the explanation.

Bruce arrested some man for minor identity fraud.

He had a fake nephew too.

Bruce had the sinking suspicion he knew who the nephew was.

The Joker broke out of Arkham and everything had to be put on hold.

Chapter Text

Tim might have fucked up. Only a little bit. But he’d been too focused on avoiding Batman to keep as much of an eye on the Joker as he probably should have.

And now Batgirl was in a hospital bed and the doctors were pretty sure she’d never walk again. She was lucky, they said, that the nerve damage hadn’t happened high up in her spine, otherwise it’d be total paralysis or even death.

It wasn’t enough to start over, much as Tim might hate to admit it.

Jason was alive and things were going right and it wasn’t like she was dead. He honestly wasn’t sure if her death would be enough to make him go back.

Batgirl was iconic but she wasn’t Jason.

But the Joker was a problem. He’d gotten Batgirl by accident. He’d been trying to get at the Commissioner and he’d gotten Batgirl by complete and total fucked up accident.

Tim couldn’t let it stand. The Joker was getting progressively more violent in his desperate attempts to get Batman’s attention and someone important to him would die if things continued escalating.

Tim hadn’t gone out of his way to kill the rogues of Gotham in… he hadn’t done it in a while. It never worked out well, the ever spiraling depravity that came from the power vacuums and Batman’s ever increasing attention on Tim.

Tim already had Batman’s attention.

And the Joker wasn’t any one of them. He was the Joker. Tim would take his death over anyone else’s. So the Joker was going to die and Tim was going to kill him.

Barbara Gordon didn’t seem particularly concerned to see the child her mentor had spent nearly a year chasing down in her hospital room at midnight.

She put her glasses on and watched Tim with pained eyes from where he was perched on the chair in the corner.

Tim stared back at her. “I’m sorry.”

Barbara glanced down at her body, still in pain, and then back up at Tim. “It’s not your fault.”

Tim shook his head. “I’m not trying again. I’m sorry.”

Barbara sighed, patting the edge of her bed in an invitation Tim didn’t take. “So Bruce was right then? About the time traveling?”

Tim nodded. “I finally-- things are finally not going wrong. I’m sorry.”

Barbara’s laugh was harsh. “And my permanent paralyzation isn’t things going wrong?”

Tim shrugged, relaxing a little further into the chair. “You’re alive, aren’t you. You’re all alive.”

Barbara scoffed. “So is he.”

Tim’s resolution hardened. “I’m going to fix that. I promise.”

“Because you feel guilty for picking Jason over me.”

Tim flinched back but didn’t bother correcting her, it wasn’t like he could. He wasn’t surprised she’d put it together either. “Do you want some part in it?”

Barbara stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“He hurt you. I don’t want to steal your revenge.”

Barbara quirked an eyebrow. “You think I can take revenge like this?”

“Yes.” Tim chewed on his lip, trying to figure out how to put it. “I can’t-- wait. I’d let you take it all by yourself if I could, you’d-- you’d figure it out, I know you would. But I don’t have time. I don’t know what is going to happen, I don’t even know what could happen, but I’m not willing to find out.”

“I’m stuck in a hospital bed for now, Kid. I don’t even have a wheelchair available for use yet. I don’t think I can help if you’re not willing to wait.”

Tim shook his head. “I can take something to kill him with that’s yours. I can-- I can bring his head back or something. I can… maybe, maybe bring him here alive and you can kill him from your hospital bed.”

Barbara considered him for a long moment. Then she sighed and gestured over to a small pile of her things. “There’s a sheath in there. It has a knife, I carried it everywhere. Kill the bastard with that.”

Tim crept across the room and held the sheath up for her approval. He strapped it to his own wrist and returned to the chair. “Any other requests?”

Barbara’s grin was bloodthirsty. “Make it slow?”

Tim dipped his head and then he skittered out the window and down the side of the hospital facade.

Barbara wouldn’t alert Batman, she wanted the Joker dead and Tim couldn’t see her interfering with that.

Arkham wasn’t a difficult place to break into. It was harder, if only slightly, to break out, but Tim wasn’t focused on breaking out.

Most of Arkham’s patients were asleep as he crept through the halls, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the guards.

There were times he regretted spending years with the League of Assassins, times their training came in handy were not among them.

The hush of whispered conversations between neighboring cells dropped off as he crept past.

He’d threatened most of the rouges, at some point or another, to stay the fuck away from Robin.

Most of them were scared of a thirteen year old boy with no powers to speak of.

The Joker was asleep when Tim got to his cell, but he woke up when the door swung open. He grinned at Tim as he clambered to his feet. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Here to recuse little old me?”

Tim stepped into the cell and shut the door behind himself. “No.”

The Joker started laughing. “Here to kill me? Oh, this is too good.” He began dodging around his cell as Tim repeatedly tried to stab him. “But here’s the thing, only Batman can kill me, so I’m afraid--”

The Joker was too used to relying on his gimmicks, Tim reflected as he lunged, lightning fast, to drive his knife into the Joker’s chest, carefully missing the heart and lungs, but not the liver.

The Joker stared down at his bleeding torso and began to cackle harder, clutching at it as he went, stumbling to the ground.

Tim started with his tendons first, carefully severing them from the bone so the Joker was a helpless mass of flesh. Then he started carving into the creature who was once a man, carefully avoiding major arteries and veins. Barbara had asked him to make it slow.

After he was satisfied that the Joker was in burning agony he cut out the man’s eyes. A thumb into the socket to pop them out and Barbara’s knife to sever them from the optic nerve. Then he grabbed the man’s tongue and pulled it out, using that same knife to chop it off. His laughter, already choked and gurgling, became ever rougher.

Tim was waiting for him to die still.

At some point the guards had been alerted and there was a lot of light and noise outside the Joker’s cell, but no one entered.

Tim began to saw off fingers.

The Joker died sometime between the seventh and ninth finger. Batman arrived sometime around the end of the ninth.

Tim stepped away from the body, covered in blood, and looked up at Batman. Batman stared down at him.

Tim blinked slowly.

Batman continued to stare at him.

Tim tried to push past the man, but Batman refused to budge.

Tim reached for the necklace he’d been wearing since the journey had started, ready to use it only if he had to. He’d killed the Joker because he didn’t want to restart again.

“Timothy.”

“It’s Tim,” he snapped. 

“Tim, then. You killed him.”

Tim had killed people, actual people, who didn’t deserve to die before. It’d always made him taste sour bile. He felt nothing but cold satisfaction as scoffed. “Not the first time I’ve killed someone. He fucking deserved it. I’m not planning on killing anyone else, so don’t you dare throw me in some dark hole, Batman. You won’t like the consequences if you do.”

“I imagine you’d be more careful to avoid my notice next time around. I would rather you not.”

“Harder to keep an eye on me? Need to make sure I’m not a threat?” Tim asked, mocking.

“Harder to make sure you’re okay.”

Tim blinked and took a step back. Batman still hadn’t moved, his hands were at his sides, visible and non-threatening.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Your parents have yet to report you missing.”

Tim swallowed. He knew that. He’d been gone for almost ten months, but his parents hadn’t gotten a call from the school or anyone else, so it wasn’t like they cared.

“I don’t need parents. You should know why.”

“Maybe you don’t need parents, but you deserve to have an adult looking out for you.”

“Do you know how old I am?” Tim didn’t even remember how old he was, how many years he’d spent trying to save Jason, Damian, Bruce, everyone. “I’ve been alive longer than you, Batman.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t deserve to be on your own. It seems you’ve been very determined to make sure my family has someone in their corner. Maybe it’s time there’s someone in yours.”

“I killed someone. Violently.”

“The Joker’s life has never been my priority.” He grimaced. “I’d rather you not have his death on your conscience, but there’s not much I can do about that now, is there?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of trap is this?”

“No trap. Robin’s been worried about you, you know? And-- the little one. He wants to see you, even if he’s not worried. Even Nightwing wants to meet you”

Tim scowled. “Emotional manipulation will get you nowhere.”

“Please.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, glancing at Joker’s cooling body. “What are my other options?”

“The justice system, though you’d be hard pressed to find a jury in Gotham who’d convict you.”

Tim licked his lips and looked back at Batman. “Or I go with you?”

“Or you come with me.”

“Do I have to stay with you?”

“If the situation leaves you uncomfortable we can figure something else out, so long as you promise not to just vanish again.” Tim hesitated. “And you could keep a closer eye on Robin.” Emotional manipulation. Batman was a bastard.

Tim stepped forward, holding his hand out for Batman to shake, blood and all. “Deal. But if we can’t ‘work something out’ fast enough, I’m just leaving. You’d have warning.”

Batman smiled as he shook Tim’s hand.

Bruce helped him clean off in the Batcave and brought him a spare set out clothes. 

Tim was expecting suspicion and wariness from Jason, at least. Maybe a nod from Damian.

Instead, when Jason saw him in the manor kitchen, Tim found himself wrapped up in a hug as Jason spun him around. 

He was left gaping at Jason as he was set back onto the ground. 

Jason grinned at him. “I told you, he wasn’t going to hurt a little kid.”

Before Tim could answer, Damian made his way into the kitchen and quickly strode over to Tim. His little arms reached around Tim’s stomach and he found himself enveloped in a hug from a six year old.

Tim shot Bruce a desperate look, but the man just smiled and shook his head.

“Jason, how bout you call your brother. He’ll want to hear about… all of this.” Jason glanced at Tim before reluctantly slinking from the room to go find his phone. Damian didn’t let go of Tim.

Alfred Pennyworth entered the kitchen. “Master Timothy, your room is ready, should you require any alterations, please do inform me. Now, would you like something to eat?”

“I--” Tim blinked rapidly at the old man. “What?”

Alfred hummed, bustling past Bruce and into the kitchen. “I believe I have some brownies if Master Bruce hasn’t eaten them all by now. Of course, I could always make you something more substantial if you’re looking for that?”

Tim gripped the side of the counter for strength. “Uh… um… brownies sound-- nice?”

“I dare say they’re wonderful. Master Damian, would you like one as well?”

Damian let go of Tim to wander over to Alfred. “I would appreciate one.” Alfred gave him an indulgent smile.

When Tim was passed two brownies on a paper towel, he finally gave up and just crouched down on the floor of the Wayne Manor kitchen and began to quietly sob.

“Oh dear.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Alfred shuffling Damian out of the kitchen.

Between his fingers, Tim could see where Bruce was crouched in front of him. “Tim?”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” Everything was too much. He was so, so tired and everyone was being nice and he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond and people had hugged him and seemed happy to see him and--

“Shh, Tim, you’re alright. You don’t have to understand. It’s okay.”

“What do you want!?” He demanded between hitching sobs.

“For you to be alright. It’s okay if you’re not though. Take your time.”

Tim shook his head. “People don’t just-- nobody just--” He whimpered. “No one’s supposed to care about-- about me.”

Bruce let out a quiet wounded noise. “Tim, there’s always supposed to be someone who cares about you.”

Tim shook his head before rubbing violently at his tear stained face. “Not me!”

“Of course you. Tim, is okay if I hug you?”

Tim sucked in a shuddering breath. Then another. Then he shook his head. Then he began laughing hysterically. Finally, he looked up at Bruce with watery blue eyes and nodded.
Bruce swept Tim into a hug, letting Tim sob into his chest on the kitchen floor, occasionally letting out quiet soothing noises.

Tim drifted off, feeling safe for what was perhaps the first time.

Chapter Text

Dick had been hearing about Timothy Jackson Drake for almost a year. Sometimes it was Damian bringing up how ‘worthy’ the boy was, sometimes it was Bruce, asking for help with yet another lead. Usually it was Jason who felt desperately guilty for not fighting harder to not let Tim slip away.

Dick didn’t really blame him. Tim was older, if Bruce’s theory was right, and there’d been a little kid to worry about. Dick also got the impression that Tim could have probably gotten out of there even if Jason tried to use force.

In the end, he knew where things were headed. Just one more baby bird in the nest.

Dick hadn’t heard about Tim from Barbara, until she called him in the middle of the night.

Dick answered anyway because he felt awful. Barbara was his ex, sure, but she was also one of his best friends, and now she was lying in a hospital bed and he knew she was angrier than she was letting on. He could be that person if she needed someone to rage at.

He was not expecting to hear about Tim. 

“He’s going to kill the Joker. He’s going to succeed,” she warned him with utter certainty.

Dick swallowed. “Well, he deserves it.”

“I fucking know that,” Barbara snapped. “I also know he’s too in his damn head to get out of there before Bruce catches up with him. What do you think is going to happen when he does?”

Dick bit his lip. Either he was getting a new little sibling or… or nothing good.

Barbara let Dick think it over before she said, “Dick, you should start heading home. Right now.”

Dick took a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Good idea. I’ll… I’ll bring you some food tomorrow. Batburger sound good?”

Barbara groaned. “Anything sounds better than the hospital slop. At least I should be out of surgery for a while now.”

Dick swallowed down the bile rising in the back of his throat. At least she was alive.

“Right, right. Yeah, I’m just gonna-- I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Promise.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get going, Dickhead.”

Dick was within city limits by the time he got the call from Jason. Apparently things had gone alright, there was a new baby bird in the nest and Bruce had sent him to call Dick. Oh, and the Joker was dead.

No one seemed particularly concerned about that little detail.

And then Jason told Dick that he was giving the phone to Alfred.

“Master Dick, I fear this may have been a little too much for Master Timothy. He’s currently having a bit of a moment. I believe Master Bruce may benefit from having your aid in this matter.”

Dick swallowed, hearing the worry in Alfred’s voice. “Babs gave me a heads up. I’m on my way already. I’ll-- I’ll be there in fifteen, yeah? How’s the Baby Bat 

doing with all this? What about Little Wing?”

Alfred hummed. “I believe Master Jason is going through a large range of emotions. Master Damian is keeping his a bit closer to the chest, but he was very happy, now he’s a bit concerned.”

Dick pressed the gas petal down just a bit more. “I’ll be there in ten, Alfred, promise. Maybe get some hot chocolate set up for everyone? I think we might be needing it.”

“Of course, Master Dick.”

Tim was asleep by the time Dick made it to the manor. According to Bruce he’d cried himself out and was probably exhausted already.

Dick couldn’t blame him, from what they’d gleaned about the kid, he probably hadn’t gotten a chance to just relax in a good long while.

Jason insisted on watching over him and Damian said he didn’t trust Jason’s competency, but they could all see the concern he was trying to hide.

In the end, all of them wound up piled in the family parlor, all sipping from their own mugs of hot chocolate, with Tim laid out on one of the couches.

Jason was reading Brave New World but Dick was pretty sure he was going to end up DNFing the book based on the way his little brother’s nose was wrinkling.

Damian was stretched out in front of the coffee table, furiously scratching at a paper. He’d discovered a fondness for art since Tim had brought him to them.

Alfred was mending Jason’s suit and Dick could see the tell tale earbud that meant he was probably listening to a podcast.

Bruce was on his laptop and Dick thought it looked an awful lot like he was drafting a letter to Tim’s parents. Something about a guardianship transfer.

Dick was… well Dick was looking around and making sure his family was all present, all okay. That nothing was going to go wrong.

He wished he could have Barbara in the room, if only so he could see her and make sure she was safe, even if the Joker was dead.

God. The Joker was dead. It was a dream come true.

Dick held back a bubbling laugh.

He ran a quick check of his family again. Damian, Jason, Bruce, Alfred. Tim. All safe. All present. All okay. 

Dick rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder. Revealing in the moment of peace.

Bruce shifted so he would be more comfortable and also so that Dick had an easier time of seeing the screen.

Dick stayed like that for a while, not reading the text, just breathing through his mind.

Everything was screaming at him and he didn’t know why, didn’t know why he felt convinced something was wrong. Maybe it was Barbara?

He breathed and nestled just a little closer to Bruce, glancing up at Tim again, just to reassure himself that the kid was still there.

A noise brought Dick’s attention back to the laptop.

A notification, a pop up notification, in the corner of Bruce’s screen. A news article.

The headline? Joker Found Dead in Arkham Cell, Reports Say Injuries were Self Inflected.

He checked the time. Three sixteen a.m.

According to Bruce’s quiet report while Alfred cajoled the younger boys into helping him set up the parlor, there was no way to interpret the Joker’s injuries as self-inflicted.

Dick smiled viciously.

Bruce hummed, clicking on the pop up to pull the full article up. 

After a moment he half closed his laptop and cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the rest of the room. “The first news report is out. Self inflected,” he said mildly.

Jason let out a quiet whoop.

“And you are not… upset that Timothy has taken this measure?” Damian asked quietly. Dick realized that Damian probably hadn’t had the chance to talk about it with their Dad.

Bruce shook his head. “I wish he didn’t, but I’m not going to turn him away over it.”

Jason scowled. “You better fucking not.”

“Language, Master Jason.”

Jason winced. “Sorry Alfie, Sorry Dames.”

Damian scoffed. Dick was well aware that the little boy had heard far worse before. Sometimes he wanted to fucking kill Talia.

“Send the article to Babs?” Dick asked after a moment of consideration. “She’s probably asleep by now, but she’d want to hear about it.”

“You really think she’s going to think the Joker did this to himself?” Jason asked skeptically.

Dick shook his head. “She called me. Said-- she said Tim showed up in her hospital room. She said he was going to try and kill the Joker and that she knew he would succeed.”

Bruce grunted.

“Don’t get all judgmental, Old Man,” Jason grumbled.

Bruce held up a knife for them to see.

Jason frowned. “Hey wait, ain’t that Barbie’s knife?”

“It was also,” Bruce said mildly, “the murder weapon.”

Jason rocked back a little and Dick caught him glancing at Alfred while he kept his ‘shittttt’ internal.

“So what?” Dick asked. “She deserved some kind of revenge, Bruce.”

“I wanted him dead.” Bruce began haltingly. “I… couldn’t kill him. I didn’t want any of you to have deaths on your hands. I didn’t want him to have any.”

Damian snorted. “Timothy is far too fluent in League Arabic to not have already killed.”

Dick flicked his gaze up so he was watching Bruce’s face as it shuttered. “I know.”

“I’m confused,” Jason said. “Are you mad about it or not?”

“I am… upset. I am not mad at anyone. I-- what Timothy did was not morally reprehensible. I just wish he hadn’t felt the need to take up the responsibility.”

Dick pressed himself just a bit closer to Bruce.

“Good, because Master Timothy has done nothing wrong. I dare say, if the Joker ever came to this estate, that I would have been much less kind.”

Dick shuddered a little. It was usually easy to forget, just how terrifying Alfred could be when he wanted to. And then he pulled out stuff like that.

Bruce grunted.

Tim shifted slightly and just like that, all of them were silently watching as the boy yawned, eyes cracking open.

Chapter Text

Tim was not expecting to wake up to five different people staring at him.

He’d gotten blissfully used to waking up alone. Usually fairly cold, but alone.

And to make things worse, he knew exactly who those people were, which meant something had gone… wrong.

Like, for example, killing the Joker and not bothering to make sure he had the presence of mind to have an escape route ready.

Tim sat up and looked squarely at Bruce. “I’m going to leave now.”

That… did not have the intended effect. There were a lot of people yelling. Jason was… threatening to sit on him.

Huh.

“Tim, I thought we said we’d give it a try first?” Bruce said, very calmly.

Tim thought back to that conversation and shrugged. “No, I said I’d tell you if I was leaving. I’m leaving.”

At that, Jason stood up, marched across the space, and honest to god sat on Tim. “Yeah, no. Not gonna work.”

“I-- what? Hey, get off me-- I-- what?” Tim spluttered, finding his face suddenly pressed into Jason’s sweater.

“Not gonna work. You’re staying right here and you’re going to accept that there are people who can care about you. And then you’re going to see that we’re really not that bad.”

“I uh… I don’t need this. I don’t want this.” People to tie him down, people to watch him, people to change himself for.

As if he hadn’t forever changed himself for Jason. For Damian. For Bruce.

There was a polite cough and Jason shifted so Tim could see Damian, stood in front of the couch with his hands on his hips. He looked adorable. “Timothy, I am in no more need of this family than you are, however, as you once rightfully pointed out, here, it is expected that children have adults with them so as to ensure their safety. As it is with me, it is with you.”

Damian was… not quite right. It was different. He did actually need the love and he actually was a child, and Tim looked like a pre-teen, not a young child. And--

Someone walked over to stand next to Damian and Tim tilted his head up and swallowed. “Officer Grayson.” He hadn’t spoken with the man in years, not that he would remember it regardless.

Dick Grayson scoffed. “Nope, nope, none of that. You’re going to call me Dick, end of story. Look, I totally get it if you wanna say see ya later and never speak to us again.” Jason made an offended noise. “But I have also spent the past ten months hearing about you from B, from Jay, from Dami. B and Jay have spent the past ten months desperately trying to find you so they can make sure you’re okay. It would really upset them if you just up and left without giving it a shot. And I know Damian misses you, so lets give it longer than a few seconds before you go demanding to leave, yeah?”

Tim eyed him dubiously. Dick gave him a winning smile.

“I’m… I’m not… good. To be around. Not anymore.”

“Bullshit,” Jason snapped. “I’ve never been good to be around or whatever the fuck it is you think is wrong with you, but that doesn’t stop these jerks from caring about me.”

“Master Jason.”

“These jerks and Alfie.”

Tim leaned forward so he could catch a glimpse of the old man pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not going to change and you’re not going to stop me from-- from doing what I have to do.”

Dick snorted, grinning at him, wide and disarming. “Sounds great, that’s the story of how I became Robin.”

Tim frowned. “I’m-- I’m not like you lot. I-- I crossed the line. Joker isn’t-- wasn’t the first person I killed.”

“We all work with heroes who are willing to cross that line. It doesn’t make you a failure,” Bruce said gently. “With the expectation of Damian, our choice not to kill is a personal one.”

Damian scoffed. 

Alfred cleared his throat. “I daresay if Master Bruce had a problem with housing someone willing to end another person’s life, he would be out one butler. It is never a choice to be made lightly, but lightly is not how I would describe your decisions young man.”

Tim swallowed. “I don’t know how to care about people.”

“Tim,” Bruce sounded like he thought Tim was going to shatter into a thousand pieces, “that’s not true. If you didn’t care about people, you wouldn’t have brought my sons back to me.”

Jason nudged him gently and scooted off Tim’s lap. “Yeah, apparently you saved my life. Real apathetic of you.”

Tim glanced around the room, at soft expressions and open faces. He swallowed. “Why aren’t you guys listening to me?”

“We are,” Bruce said plainly. “You were just expecting your arguments to drive us away.”

Tim flinched. “I’m not the kind of person you want around.”

Damian’s face darkened further and Tim had to pick someone new to look at before he started crying again.

“Yeahhhhh,” Jason threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “I think I get to be the judge of who I do and don’t want around, don’t you?”

“I…” Tim’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. Fine. Just, don’t get mad when you realize you were wrong about me.”

“Thank you for trusting us, Tim.” Tim couldn’t look at Bruce, not now. Maybe not ever.

His parents, as it turned out, were not as accepting of a legal transfer of custody as they were of Tim just vanishing. Something about the public scandal of it all. So that was fun.

They’d lost the court case regardless, when Tim testified that he’d been gone for ten months and that they hadn’t even noticed.

He still wasn’t entirely sure he shouldn’t have tried to go for emancipation, but apparently ‘thirteen was too young to be emancipated.’ So he was letting Bruce foster him.

Damian had a firm grip on his hand as he led a slightly dazed Tim out of the court house.

“So,” Jason began as they emerged into sunlight. “Batburger?”

Dick shrugged, laying an arm across Tim’s shoulders. “Batburger sounds great. We should go get some.”

Bruce sighed, but smiled at his kids all the same. “Batburger it is.”

Tim didn’t even care when Viki Vale published a picture of him with ketchup all over his face.

He could watch over Jason and Damian, he could eat a warm meal every night and curl up in a warm bed to sleep, and he had people who cared about him. That, most of all, was confusing.

He was… home. It was perfect.