Chapter Text
Tim didn’t miss Damian.
He really didn’t miss him at all.
He just wished they could talk to each other and have the time to call each other.
He missed talking about different types of aircraft together; he missed showing Damian recommendations of videos that he would love about those airplanes he grew obsessed with.
But Tim Drake was really proud of his little brother, of the little gremlin.
Tim did find Damian inspiring, and honestly, Tim had never felt like an idiot as much as he did when Damian had gotten his job as a customer service agent at the airport. Tim never really thought of working in the aviation industry, probably because he had the money that his social status provided him with and because he was already running Bruce's company while being Red Robin and trying to survive his everyday life.
Maybe Damian actually deciding to leave everything to build his own life meant that Tim didn’t need to be useful to others to be worth something, maybe he could do something for himself, maybe he could decide what his life was going to be about, maybe he could do something he wanted.
That is probably why a few months after Damian started working as a customer service agent at JFK airport, Tim applied to do air traffic control. It took so much time passing all the tests and all the interviews, but two years later, he was working as an ATC in the control tower of JFK. Why? Because it made sense, because it was all about reasoning, because it was a gamble of risk that needed to be played, and Tim Drake always knew when to gamble.
He had the best office anyone could ask for, and he was grateful. He was grateful because his job wasn’t an obligation; he was having fun, he loved his colleagues, and he loved the planes he helped take off and land. He also adored when there were problems on the ground, when there was snow, and they needed to deal with the ground vehicle so that the tarmac and the runways were clear at all times.
He loved seeing that small city come alive in the morning and falling asleep at night, yet still moving, like it couldn’t wait for the next day to happen.
Tim's sleep schedule is a mess, so how can someone blame him for liking the weird schedule this job gives him? They had all sorts of different things to do in the many places they could go during their break to make sure they kept their concentration.
The fact that he could become an air traffic controller only happened because he actually was able to step back from Wayne Enterprises.
Bruce had done 6 months of nonstop therapy before slowly starting to reach out for his family. The first thing they did was establish a plan. Bruce had discussed with his therapist a lot about mistakes he made and who he would need to apologize to, but before that he needed to establish a better balance in his life.
They had made a 2-year plan in which Bruce would slowly start being more present at work, then Tim and he would slowly start reviewing all the different projects that had been done in the last 4 years he had been acting in Bruce’s place, and then slowly Tim would start delegating to Bruce 10% of his workload, then 20%, then 30%, etc. Then Bruce would take back the company full-time.
That time stamp was to assure he would continue his meeting and to give them the time to assure he wouldn’t fall back into bad habits, because now Bruce was a part of Workaholics Anonymous.
As for Batman, who was the biggest part of Bruce’s problem, he would get out two days a week, letting his boys take care of it the rest of the week, and he would use a third day to train policemen as part of the new Batman protocol he was slowly piecing together, if Gordon approved.
Slowly they were mending bridges, but some things didn’t repair themselves easily. Damian was quite distant with Bruce.
Damian had lived in the League of Assassins. Thalia and Ra’s had built that godlike image of Batman, a hero to follow, a great man to whom Damian would always be compared, so sure, Damian had started idolizing his father, making him his hero. Tim had done something quite similar with Jason when he was Robin, and look where it led him: getting beaten up by a crazy zombie drunk on Kool-Aid. Really no big deal. Same thing with Bruce, Tim had idolized him, and what he got was a cold, grieving man who was mistaking him for his son, and Tim didn’t care, only because his heart had already been broken too many times by his own parents, who were most of the time never home.
Damian learned that his father was just a human like the rest of them, and Tim understood how hard that could be, so he could only understand the time it could take to heal.
When Damian left for Doha, Tim and Dick had taken him to the airport, and Tim was scared because letting family leave to go across the other side of the world was scary. Dick had cried because Damian meant a lot to him; he basically saw him grow, and they had been a major part of each other's lives. Tim did see in Damian's eyes some emotions he was trying to hide.
When it came time for Tim to say goodbye, he felt a weight in his throat.
“Be safe, promise me,” Tim said softly. Tim wasn’t able to speak any louder.
And Damian just smirked, but when he talked, the laughter mixed with a sob told everything.
“Drake, Don’t tell me you’re worried; the odds of me surviving are higher than yours.”
Tim answered, ”You’re on.”
And then Damian did something surprising: he approached Tim, and he took him in his arms, Tim's head landing in the crook of Damian’s neck. Damian was now way bigger than Tim, and he took all the occasions to make sure Tim remembered that he was now the smallest in the family.
Tim was very comfortable for the minute it lasted; he tried not to let the tears get out, but he couldn’t.
No, Damian was never big on affection; he only really accepted hugs from Dick, and Tim respected those boundaries, so it really touched Tim that Damian gave him that honor.
Then Dick and Tim led Damian to the big line of customs control, and they watched him till he disappeared entirely as Tim and Dick were both holding each other's hands.
Tim stopped counting the weeks after Damian left very quickly, only because of his work and his weird schedule that made it hard for him to track time.
Damian and Tim gave each other news as often as they could. They were mostly writing each other things, sending each other photos, and bickering as much as they could, because it was the only way they could hold on to each other.
Tim had a night shift from midnight to eight in the morning, or from 5:00 am to 1:00 pm Greenwich time.
In one of his breaks, he went to unlock his locker to get his phone. They didn’t have the right to keep their phones while working, so they had lockers with chargers outside the control room to leave their phones. They didn’t have the right to be distracted; that is the reason why they had so many breaks to assure that they wouldn’t be distracted when they would be working.
Tim had wanted to check if he had any messages before doing his workout in their gym.
Damian had left a message; Damian had called.
“Drake, I am sorry for disturbing you,” he said before pausing, taking a deep breath, “I just wanted to tell you, I got my wings.”
It had been 8 weeks then. Tim was so proud, so happy for him, but he was also hearing the hidden message, a thank you from Damian.
Tim called him back, telling Damian he was happy for him, that he wasn’t disturbing him, and not to hesitate to call him if he wanted.
Tim learned quickly enough during his training that he could not slack on studying, because he would fail utterly.
The second thing he learned was that doing air traffic control in a tower or in an area control center was not really your choice. The type of air traffic control chooses you just as much as a wand chooses its wizard.
All controllers start with the same basic training; they learn phraseology and how to talk to airplanes. Tim found it so freaking cool; it was basically a secret language between pilots and them. They also learned the regulations of the industry. Then they went on practicing in different simulators.
Then, he began Tower Control training. The difficult thing was that each tower, each center, had more or less the same systems, but it was all working slightly differently, so he needed to get familiar with his tower.
Tim had been awarded his first choice, New York. He had on-the-job training where an instructor was shadowing him at all times. That is when he finally came face-to-face with trying, and the key word is trying, to understand pilots. The pilots were amazing, but sometimes they were hard to understand because they all had different languages coming from different parts of the world, but with practice Tim was quickly able to.
So as tower controllers, they were helping airplanes to take off and to land; they were managing everything that happened on land, on the ground of the airport, but they were also responsible for a certain airspace in a certain radius and up to a certain altitude. From that point, they needed to transfer the airplane to the controller taking care of the area, and throughout their flights, they were passing through multiple airspaces where the controller could allow them to go higher or lower. That way they could make sure no airplanes would collide and no accident would happen.
Tim's days when he was working were simple: drive up to work, get to his station, look at his flights for the day, and then he was actually starting his work. Tim Drake was always busy; there was never any boring time, and he was always glad when he got to take his breaks, because this job was taking a lot of concentration and no distraction was allowed.
His days were never the same, and he was so glad.
Just as he finished getting a flight going to London to take off, he heard another pilot calling him.
“John F. Kennedy Tower, Tango Echo Sierra, holding short for runway two-two, ready for departure.”
That voice, Tim would recognize it between thousands of people. It had a Gotham accent and, more precisely, a Crime Alley accent. This was Jason, and Tim was sure of it. But Tim could not do anything on his frequency as he was working.
“Tango Echo Sierra, Line up and wait, runaway two-two. Number 2 for departure, Traffic, Charlie Foxtrot Yankee departing from Bravo.”
"Absolutely not," Jason answered.
“Line up and wait, runaway two-two, Tango Echo Sierra.”
Not long after the other aircraft took flight, Tim got to clear off. Absolutely not, Jason, for takeoff.
“Tango Echo Sierra, cleared for take-off runway two-two”
Then the pilot confirmed before taking off.
Right after his shift, Tim called Dick and asked him, “Is Jason a pilot now?”
Dick took a deep breath and spoke, “So you know?”
Tim then answered, “Yes, I had to make him take off this morning; it was his voice. Why did I not know sooner?”
Dick then answered naturally, “He really doesn't want Bruce to know his whereabouts. Jason is still mad at Bruce, and he is scared that we are going to let it slip in front of Bruce.”
Tim said, “But we barely talk to Bruce about him,” because when they did, it always ended up in a fight.
Dick then said, ”I know, but this is what this is. If you want, you can call him, and he is planning to come to Gotham next week; he has a two-day layover in New York. He has tea with Alfred. Bruce will be in Metropolis all week long. Jason did tell me he was planning a surprise for you, so I think you will have plenty of time to talk.”
Tim thanked his brother, then he sent a text to Jason, “You are going to tell me everything.”