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It wasn't unusual for Tim to call you at 4 am. Unfortunately for your sleep schedule, it was fairly often that he'd get off of patrol and need someone to talk to or just to sit on the phone with. Sometimes, though, you could tell that he had been up all night going down an internet rabbit hole and subsequently called you to share his findings. Today was one of those times.
Glaring at the bright screen like it was a personal offense, you read the caller ID and checked the time: 4:08 am. Groaning, you jammed your finger into the green button, pressing the phone to your ear, "This better be important, Drake."
Smirking on the other side of the phone, he answered, "I couldn't imagine calling you for anything of less than utmost importance."
"So, what is it this time?" you questioned, "Steam having a sale? A new species of bats discovered? A cure for insomnia?"
"None of those things, unfortunately," he responded. "But you'd better get down here soon. I have some . . . interesting information to go through."
After saying your goodbyes, you hung up the phone, conceding to crawl out of bed and get dressed to go to the manor.
You had been friends with Tim for a few years now, and due to an accident with Tim crashing into your apartment in the middle of the night and you having to patch him up, you knew about his family's vigilantism. You had been to the manor a few times, and met some of his siblings, but that was the extent of your connection to the Waynes up until this point. If Tim was asking you to come over on such short notice, it must be something important.
By the time you reached the manor, Tim was already standing outside the door. He had a serious look on his face, but his expression brightened as you walked up to him.
“Finally. I thought you’d never make it.”
“Well, a 4 am wake up call doesn’t exactly make for timely appearances,” you teased back.
You followed him inside, greeting Alfred, who had already set out a plate of snacks and tea. The beauty of the manor never failed to astonish you, with its antique furnishings and tall, elegant ceilings.
The two of you ended up stationed in the parlor, with case files spread out across multiple tables and couches. You could tell that Tim had been here for several hours already, if not the whole previous night.
“I’ve collected several files from the Batcomputer, and compiled evidence from various other data sources–”
“Tim?” you stopped him with a concerned look on your face. “What is this even all about? I mean, you’ve never involved me in vigilante stuff before. Is something going on?”
Tim continued with a satisfied look on his face, “Well, I have probable cause to believe that you would be invested in this case, and could be a valuable part of the investigation.”
You waited, unimpressed for him to explain.
“I’m trying to prove the existence of Santa Claus.”
You pause. Unsuccessfully, you attempt to hold in your laughter, nearly doubling over in a fit of cackling.
“Are you serious? I’m sorry– it’s just so–” you fall into another bout of laughter. Tim remains with his subtle, knowing smile, letting you get it all out.
“You done?” he asks unceremoniously.
“Sorry, I’m done now. It’s just– ‘Batman and Robin, Investigating Santa Claus.’ It sounds like a cheesy comic book.”
Tim concedes, taking a seat on the couch, and you follow suit. “You won’t be laughing anymore once I show you what I found.”
He pulls out a manila folder filled to the brim with papers. After shuffling through them, he pulls out a tattered piece of paper. Upon further inspection, you realize it’s a photo.
You recognize the man on the left immediately: Bruce Wayne, dressed in winter clothes, fitting the snowy background of the photo. He’s much younger in this photo, but he retains his defining features: jet black hair, strong build, and his signature stoic expression.
The man on the right, however, draws your attention more. He’s an older man, with graying hair tied back behind his head and a similarly stoic countenance. He’s dressed similar to Bruce as well, but his garments, rather than being black, are a deep shade of red.
You looked at Tim, unimpressed. “So this picture of your dad is supposed to prove the existence of Santa Claus?”
Tim shook his head. “No. This was merely what caused me to start this investigation in the first place,” he explained, tucking the file away. “I’ve found much more information on the Batcomputer,” he says, standing. “Here, follow me,” he says, standing and grabbing your hand.
You’re hesitant to follow. “Tim, are you sure about this? I don’t think I’m really allowed to go down there . . .”
“Relax, Bruce is gone on a mission, and besides, worse people have been down there before. Even Damian’s allowed down there.” That earned a giggle from you, and you reluctantly follow him to the Batcave.
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You’re sure that all words have escaped you once you enter the dimly lit room.
Room isn’t even the right word for it; it really is a cave, filled with technology and gadgets, with cars and machines lining the walls. You can only stare for a few minutes, blindly following Tim and hoping he doesn’t lead you off the ledge.
You eventually find yourselves seated before the Batcomputer. It reminds you of a sports bar in a way, with several large screens pulled together, each displaying different information– except instead of football games and soda commercials, they displayed tracking data from across the country; there were screens following certain points, while others displayed the whole of Gotham, Star City, Metropolis, and other locations that you couldn’t identify.
“These are satellite trackers displaying different locations around the world,” Tim explained. “This one,” he pointed to a screen that didn’t display a city map, but rather a mostly empty background, “Picks up on objects that move faster than the speed of light.”
“And you think that dot is Santa Claus?”
“There are only so many things on Earth that can go that fast. One of them is Superman, which we already have a particular tracker marking, including his hideout,” he said, pointing to a screen that showed patterns of movement all across Metropolis labelled ‘CK.’ You wondered to yourself what that meant before Tim continued.
“This dot is labelled ‘SK.’ After going through Batman’s records of super-powered individuals, the only one with initials to match that name goes by the alias Silent Knight.”
He tapped on the computer again, this time pulling up flight patterns from the mysterious SK.
“He travels the world every year on the same night–December 24th–taking a meticulously planned route that aligns with the population data in that area,” Tim explained, getting more and more serious by the minute, “And on every other night? He lives here.” He jabbed his finger toward the screen, displaying a world map with a pin on it that was suspiciously close to the North Pole.
You blew out a long breath, “Wow. I mean this is . . .” you trailed off. “This does look really convincing, Tim, I’ll give you that.”
“Really convincing? It’s practically perfect,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
Just then, a deep rumbling sound came from the other end of the cave. At first, you worried it was a wild animal, or one of the wild technologies came to life, but as it got closer, you realized it was the Batmobile.And if the Batmobile was coming, that could only mean one thing: Batman.
You shifted in your seat nervously. Tim said it was fine that you were down here, but would you get in trouble with Bruce? You felt your palms begin to sweat as the rumble of the engine died. Tim, however, looked perfectly calm, scrolling through a file on the computer.
Bruce stepped out of the car. Luckily for your racing heart, he removed the cowl as he was walking up to the computer.
“Tim, pull up the mission reports for the Justice League,” he ordered. He nodded to you, “Y/n.”
You supposed that was his form of a greeting. You still felt like a deer in the headlights, watching Tim pull up the report. At least you weren’t in trouble, you supposed.
Tim rolled his chair to be next to yours off to the side, allowing Bruce to sit in front of the computer.
“So,” Tim began. Oh God, please don’t incriminate us, you mentally pleaded. “Who’s the Silent Knight?”
Bruce smiled ever so slightly. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”
Tim gave a cocky smirk, “What can I say? It’s part of the whole detective thing.”
“The Silent Knight is a covertly operating member of the Justice League, only coming to help in the most dire of circumstances,” Bruce explained. “He resides in the Arctic, and only reliably leaves his domain every year on the 24th of December.”
Tim turned his gaze to you, smiling. “Well, that settles that then, right?”
“Yeah, I guess . . . it’s just kind of hard to believe. I mean, I stopped believing in Santa years ago,” you said.
“Let me get this right–we live in a world with metahumans and immortals, but you have a hard time believing in Santa?” Tim teased you with a smile.
You laughed quietly. “You’re right, I think I just–” you paused, “Lost the magic of Christmas a long time ago.”
Tim held your gaze then, and you could see something behind his eyes–concern? Empathy?–but just as you went to respond, Bruce cleared his throat.
“Right,” Tim said, “Let’s go back up to the manor. I have something I want to show you.”
You followed him out of the cave, giving Bruce a polite goodbye before you exit.
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He led you back into the parlor and up the winding central staircase to the second floor. It was just as beautiful as the first, with this one featuring floor to ceiling windows that revealed the sprawling Wayne Estate.
It was breathtaking: sprawling fields covered in a thick blanket of snow that reflected the early morning light. It seemed like something off of a Christmas card, from the songbirds chirping to the pine trees dusted with snow like powdered sugar.
“It’s beautiful,” you said, fingers grazing the cold glass as you peered out to get a better view.
“Yeah,” he agreed, eyes not leaving your face, “It is.”
You both stood like that for a while, you watching the trees and Tim watching you.
“I need to tell you something.”
Your gaze finally left the window as you turned to face him. “Go for it, detective.”
He took a breath before responding, speaking slower than usual, “I like having you like this. At the manor, around my family, just being here. I want to have you around more often. And not just during the holidays.” He took your hand, pulling you closer. “Would you want that? To be . . . more than just friends?”
A smile spreads on your face slowly. Tim thought he could never get sick of the sight. “Tim Drake, are you flustered?”
His face reddened even deeper. “Maybe.”
“Never thought I’d live to see the sight,” you teased. You leaned up on your tip toes, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “And for the record, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”
You silently thanked Bruce Wayne for leaving the SK tab open on the Batcomputer.
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