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Janet Ingles, in her first move of becoming a Drake, did not invite her family to her wedding.
In fact, she hadn't even invited them to her graduation. Janet and Jack both earned their respective Masters, and walked away hand-in-hand, Jack's parents being the only guests they had. They'd been engaged for a year at that point, and went straight into business building and life planning after a sweet little ceremony in the backyard. Four years later, Janet couldn't handle the smell of root beer, and they discovered a little suprise they ended up naming Timothy...
Tim could recite it like a bedtime story. Just like he could tell you that his first word was duck, and his first Halloween costume was a pumpkin. Tim could tell you that for his first Christmas he got a stuffed bunny he grew so attached to that the only way he'd go to kindergarten without it was if he was promised Tug the bunny was going to 'snuggle school' and couldn't miss it. Tim could tell you it was strongly advised for him to be a c-section, but Janet refused and it turned out fine (and Jack argues it was heart-attack inducing). Tim could tell you Jack and Janet met in high school and Jack ended up transferring colleges to see her more often.
Tim could probably tell you every single story Jack and Janet felt were important to their life, because his family cherishes stories.
They also cherish questions.
And Timothy Drake, as a third grader doing a family tree project, asked why there were four 'grandparent' spaces. Because Jack and Janet both called Nanna 'Mom'.
And Janet sat down at the kitchen table with him, ruffled his hair, and said with a soft smile and tired eyes, "Do you remember, how last year we went from calling the florist Ms Adamson to Mrs Nett? That's because when she got married, she joined the Nett family, even though she already has Adamson family. I did that too."
"So why don't you talk to your old family?" Tim had asked.
"Because they struggle to be good people, and I would much rather be good with you." Then Janet had squished him in a hug, and helped him fill out the names.
That was the first time Tim heard about the Ingles, but it wasn't the last. Tim kept asking questions, and his parents kept answering.
Why did Janet check the fire alarms so regularly? Because when she was little there had been an accident in the kitchen and they almost forgot to wake her up.
Why did Ives have a scale in his bathroom? A lot of houses do, but Janet's Mom had caused Janet to stress if she had to focus on weight, so they don't.
As he grew older, the information was less concealed by soft words and half-explanations. Just factual statements that made him hate the people that made his mom have such an awful childhood.
And started realising just because someone has a difficult childhood, doesn't mean they know how to give their kid a perfect childhood either.
Jack and Janet were busy, even if they tried to keep Tim busy with them. They were low physical-affection people, compared to a very high physical-affection child. They answered questions and told the truth, but some of the phrases they said managed to snick deep into Tim's psyche and twist in ways he knows they didn't mean, but hurt him all the same.
Maybe the worst part of having an honest, bright, loving mother, is that when she admits she did her best to break the cycle, you don't have the heart to tell her the damages you've taken despite that love and care.
And then she's gone.
And you feel sick to your stomach when you hesitate over the last name you use for a fake uncle.
"Tim?"
Tim blinks at- oh. Right.
He's holding hot chocolate. Dana mentioned that her parents won't be coming to the wedding, and it sent Tim on a bit of a spiral.
It's not much of a wedding, anyways. Even smaller, somehow, then the one that took place on the gazebo behind Drake Manor. The currently vacant, incredibly mortgaged manor.
Dana and Dad are getting married in a week at the courthouse. Tim and one of her coworkers as witnesses.
(He so badly wants to ask-- are her parents not coming because they're dead? Or are they not coming because they're like the Ingles?)
(He thinks maybe it's for the best that the universe doesn't try to give him more family.)
"You with me?" Tim looks up, and Dana smiles. He can't tell if she looks happier or more tired, being in a relationship with his dad. He knows better than to say it. "Good, I was wondering if you'd mind dressing up just a bit. For the wedding. Get it in our minds that it's a serious occasion, you know?"
Tim takes a sip of his lukewarm hot chocolate. "Sure. I think my blazer still fits." It does, he kept it out of their bizzare Bristol garage sale for recon. He even kept his box of ties, no matter how rarely he wears them. Mom would always fuss with his tie before they went somewhere important.
Tim wonders if Dana knows how to tie a tie, and if she'd-
It doesn't matter.
"Cool," Dana says, and she smiles at him from across the table. "I have a dress that should work, and J- your dad said something about a bowtie... I think he was joking."
She looks lost in thought, and Tim wonders if a courtroom with two almost-strangers watching is really what she wanted for her first wedding.
Despite how small the ceremony had been, Janet had a wedding dress. It was white with beading and embroidery, almost like an overly-fancy sundress. When Tim was six and ten and twelve, Janet had taken it out of the closet at his request and let him run his fingers over all the small details, her smile making her eyes crinkle deeper each time.
That dress is in a box under his bed, stolen from the pile of things they were leaving behind when Jack admitted they didn't have the money to keep the manor. Along with Tug and a camera he hasn't used in... awhile.
Dana would probably fit in it, she's the same age Janet was when she wore it.
"Yeah," Tim laughs, "I don't think he owns bowties, he'll definitely wear a blazer and tie though."
Tim doesn't offer, the hot chocolate cold and suddenly bitter.
---
"Hey, kiddo," Dad sits on the edge of his bed. It's suprising -- not because Dad doesn't come into his room, or just sit with him sometimes, but because he's been acting a bit... off around Tim recently and Tim hasn't figured out why yet.
"Hey," Tim says in response, shutting his notebook where he's trying to figure out what honest/heartfelt words to put in a card for Steph's birthday. Maybe she'll accept an offering of twenty bucks and a smiley face.
"I was thinking--" they both pause for Janet to snort, and then pretend they didn't. "I was thinking, there's a new photography exhibit at Gotham Art Museum. If you... You took some really good pictures at the wedding, and I realized I hadn't seen your camera in--" Dad pauses, clears his throat. "Would you like to go?"
Tim glances at his corkboard, full of pictures Dad insisted on bringing with them. All pictures he took, from ages eight to thirteen. He thinks of the pictures hung up in the living room, of the one that's Dana in her green dress adjusting Jack's blue bowtie infront of the courthouse. He thinks of the way Dana had hugged him, when he showed them the picture when they got back home, despite it being a slightly fuzzy phone picture.
He thinks of the picture he took off the corkboard, of Janet smiling next to him infront of the Christmas tree as he unwrapped his first camera.
"Okay."
Jack smiles, relieved, Tim thinks. Probably because Tim said yes, or to get a break from Dana. Dana smiles too much, doesn't pick enough fights, for Jack to want to be around her all the time.
Tim wouldn't be suprised if this was his dad's attempt at getting Tim alone, to ask what Dana might like for Valentines Day. Or if this was all a ploy so Jack could bring up his wanderlust that returned with his independence from the wheelchair, and wouldn't it be fun to take another family trip while they both pretend traveling isn't what got Janet killed.
But... Tim wants to go. And he wants Tim and Jack to be the Tim and Jack that Janet use to tease for spending hours comparing bugs to their pictures in the old books Jack found in the attic. Tim wants the Dad who isn't alive-but-dead or awake-but-mad or married-but-offsync.
Tim wants to go to the Art Museum with his dad, and to pretend like Jack wants to be there too. Because it's pictures, and it's Tim. Tim wants to lean forward that last bit, here, on his bed, so he can get one of those one-two second squeezes that seems harder and harder to receive.
Tim wants Dad to guide him through the Art Museum-- tomorrow, they'll go tomorrow-- with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. He wouldn't even mind the utilitarian motive, if it came with the same smile Jack wears as he squeezes Tim's ankle and leaves his room.
And the next day, Tim doesn't get an arm over his shoulders, but he gets to lean against his dad as they debate the meanings of gradients and focuses, and throw old jokes back-and-forth as easy as breathing. And for a minute, Tim manages to forget about Janet.
And then Firefly attacks the museum, and Tim slips away.
And his mask gets ripped off easily during the fight because of the heat.
And the first person he sees, when he stumbles away once Batman arrives to take over, is Jack.
And Jack Drake looks furious. But not suprised.
And Tim wishes his dad didn't care enough to want Tim to still be interested in photography.
---
He's not talking to Jack right now.
He's also not talking to Bruce. Or Dick. Or Steph. He doesn't have any way to talk to his team either, because they still don't actually know who he is, and Cassie is the only one who bothers with a phone. And her mom reads all her texts so a new number would just cause problems. And apparently Jack has enough balls to be willing to threaten to shoot fucking Batman, so Tim doesn't want to try his luck with calling for Kon and having to apologize for his Dad trying to kill him on sight.
Maybe it would've been better if Jack never woke up Tim's lying. That's a lie lie lie
And maybe worse is that Dana knows. Because Jack couldn't shut up. Because Jack had to make sure she wouldn't let him out of the fucking house alone. And Tim...
Tim thought they were going to be better than that, is all. Tim thought Tim and Dana was going to be a pretty cool pair. With the jokes and similar pop culture exposure and her helping him make soup for Steph, and him helping her convince Jack that the kitchen really did need that soft lilac color. And now Jack's made her into a barrier.
Because Jack is just trying to destroy everything he hasn't already taken away.
If Janet was here... well, he'd still be grounded for life, but she would've used crocodile tears instead of a gun, and she'd have taken him back to the museum once the repairs were done, and she would've checked his room every night and done her one-two-three-seconds hugs and one-two-seconds forehead kisses and her I'm-mad-but-I-love-you hum instead of locking his window and managing even less contact than before.
Tim misses Mom.
He misses her.
He feels almost sick with-- with something, and he thinks it's a bit like that woman who goes crazy from the yellow wallpaper. Because he has nothing to do, no one to talk to, and he can't breathe.
Because it's been a month of being basically frog-marched to and back from school by Jack, and sitting in his room with it's locked window and mandatorily open door until dinner. And almost silent meals where Jack doesn't talk to Tim, and Tim doesn't talk to Jack, and Dana tries to talk to Tim but he ignores her because he doesn't want to hate her yet, and Jack doesn't talk to Dana because she wants to talk to Tim, and-
Someone knocks on the doorframe. Tim turns his head so he's facing the door instead of the ceiling, and blinks at Dana.
Dana smiles, and she looks absolutely exhausted. Tim wonders when she'll give up and force Jack to take the couch. Or-- she's nice and a physical therapist, so maybe she'll just take the guest room. It's not like they have guests, anyways. "Hey, Tim. I need to pick up some things at the grocery store. Would you like to join me?"
Tim blinks.
Dana's smile falters slightly, then strengthens. "I know that you're upset with-- with us both, and I'm sorry that you weren't... given a choice about how much I was told. I know it was-- is private. But I'd still like to spend time with you and. Well. When I was a kid, when my dad and I fought, we'd go to the grocery store together and, well, even if we still weren't talking by the end of the trip, he'd let me buy a candy bar at checkout, and usually we'd end up sharing and talk in the car in the driveway..." Dana clears her throat. "I mean, I'd just like to spend some time with you, if you'd like."
Tim sits up, "Jack?"
"Can fight me about it. It's just the grocery store."
Jack does fight, but Dana wins.
Tim gets a Milky Way, and shares it with Dana in the driveway.
And it keeps. Happening. Dana starts taking him everywhere. First on errands, then to window shop diamond district and actually shop the hundreds of thrift stores shoved into the corners and alleyways of Gotham. The Zoo and Robinson Park (the un-Ivy-ed part) become an almost weekly occurance. The talks about memes they've seen and articles they've read and what Tim's working on in class (for once he wants to do well in class) and what Dana's doing at work (without patient names) and it's just--
It's nice. It's nice laughing with someone, it's nice doing something. It's nice that they can start talking once Tim gets home from school, and talk through dinner with Jack being the only one out of the loop.
And, Dana knows so Tim finally gets to tell someone about his team. His friends. And explain the whole went-to-birthing-classes-in-a-fake-identity thing. And complain about Azreal with no filter. And, for every vigilante story Tim shares, Dana shares something about her family. Like she knows that they're sharing the same type of stories, and that's-- that's. It's.
Two months into not being Robin, Dana pulls him into a hug, and Tim freezes, just for a second. And then bursts into tears.
"Oh. Oh! Tim--" Dana steps back, moves her hands so they're lightly hovering over his shoulders, but not touching. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit of a hugger, and I've been doing my best since I know you and you're dad aren't-- I didn't mean, do you need space?"
Tim, still crying, flops forward, and clings to her.
"...Oh. Oh." Dana pulls him close, rubbing his back, and Tim melts, hiccuping as he tries to control his breathing. "Oh, Tim."
Tim learns quickly that Dana does not hug for specific amounts of time. She just hugs until he lets go, and he does the same.
---
Tim--
Tim can't. He can't. He--
They were finally going to, to actually talk about it, and--
This is all his fault.
Bruce is-- Bruce is holding him? Because he-- he-- his hands hurt, because he tried to remove--
He tried to save--
He's forgetting something. What is he forgetting?
The door opening. The soft thud of chunky heels.
Oh.
"Tim? You home? It looks like something smashed the window--"
"Dana! Dana, don't come-- don't come in." Tim scrambles up, out of Bruce's-- Batman's-- arms, stumbling out to block Dana from turning from the cramped entry hall into the bloody living room.
"Tim, you're hands..."
"Don't don't-- there's nothing--"
"Tim, honey, you're scaring me. What's--" She takes a step forward.
"Mom," Tim sobs again, if he ever really stopped, "Mom, please don't look."
(In another universe, Dana Winters-Drake walks into their small house with it's smashed window, and sees her husband's body cooling on the floor, his son nowhere to be seen because Batman has removed him to calm down.
In another universe, Dana has a very understandable breakdown, and isn't capable of taking care of her stepson, not out of lack of love, but because she's hospitalized.
In another universe, Dana Winters is in the wrong city at the wrong time, and ends up just being another thing for Tim Drake to grieve.
In another universe, there is no one to stop her in the hallway.)
Dana wraps her arms around Tim, "Okay, okay. Deep breaths, Tim."
Tim holds on tight, and doesn't notice when a gravely voice starts talking. Or when tears start falling into his hair.
---
Dana Winters, when she decided to marry Jack Drake, did not invite her family largely because her family did not want to be invited.
Her sister has two young children, and couldn't afford plane tickets or afford to take the time off to drive that far.
Her father had a heart condition, and had passed away when she was eighteen. She doesn't talk to her mother, and she is one drunk call away from blocking her uncle.
Dana is a physiotherapist, and a good one, but Gotham had been a leap of faith, and she hasn't been great at making friends as an outsider.
She had grown up in California, and misses the sunshine. She'd hated horror movies when she was younger, but now uses them to de-stress and laugh at the inaccuracies Tim likes to point out. She loves mystery movies, and bickers with Tim over whodunnit.
Dana Winters is a highly affectionate person, to the delight of Bart Allen and Conner Kent, and to the horror of Bruce Wayne, who still doesn't understand how debates on underage crime fighting have become standing Friday dinners.
Dana adopted her stepson, Tim Drake, officially three months after his father was killed in a 'failed B+E attempt'. She had smiled and squeezed Tim's shoulders when he put down "Timothy Jackson Winters-Drake" on the documents.
Dana's favorite color is cyan, and her favorite game is Sorry, and she never lets go of a hug first.
And, despite being a bit too old for one, Tim can recite it all like a bedtime story.