Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maybe it was better that Tim’s parents were never around, if this is the course of his life. If mother and father weren’t there, they couldn’t see the swell of his belly. If they weren’t here, they wouldn’t see him running to the kitchen sink to empty the casserole from his stomach.

He knew when it happened, it only needed to be once and despite how he preferred to dress. How he’d forged his parent's signatures and changed his legal name, it still happened. He’d filled the trash can with tests to check, but only after ignoring it for nearly four months.

Until his jeans refused to button, and he was suffering from an occasional dizzy spell. He thought about it for a long time, but didn’t arrange an abortion. He was also sure it was too late, by now, and he wasn’t willing to do underground.

With that, he had a plan: wait it out. Find some people who want to adopt in Metropolis. Find a middle-class family away from stifling Gotham high society and far away from Crime Alley.

He’d hacked the school system months ago to include a number and an email for their contacts to go directly to him instead. Easier to skip school that way under some perfectly crafted excuses. He could probably graduate online, he wasn’t fond of school anyway.

This was fine, he could figure it out. For now, he probably should find a doctor. Preferably one that wouldn’t admonish him for being trans or for being a pregnant fifteen-year-old. Yeah, that might be harder.

For now, he bought some random prenatal vitamins and realized maybe he should cut caffeine a bit. He was able to contemplate staying off the nightly activities for an entire week before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He rationalized that, hey, at least he wasn’t obvious. A hoodie hid pretty much everything, and he wasn’t losing any balance anytime soon. He found a good ledge on a high point in the usual spot and tuned into the (hacked) batcom.

“Tsk, Robin, Hood, Nightwing, we’ve got our usual guest again? How does he even get in?” Oracle, while she was an incredible hacker, couldn’t quite lock him out yet. Though she tried.

“Eh, leave him. You get my good side, little sparrow?” Red Hood, Jason Todd, commented. Tim smiled and wished he had his own comm to answer.

“Why do you not go after him? Doesn’t he increase our chances of blowing cover?” New Robin, or Robin III, Damian Wayne asked. He was the most serious out of all the Bats.

“He’s fine, Robin, he’s been birdwatching a while. I think he just likes to get pictures. Though none of those ever end up on any sites,” Nightwing, Dick Grayson, said. Tim never wanted to compromise any of them, which is why any proof he got was destroyed. He’s smashed a couple of his cameras and snapped drives to make sure of it.

“Still wish he wouldn’t hack my comms, ” Oracle sighed. “Hey, sparrow, what if I just give you a comm?”

“I found our little stray birdie,” Tim looked over his shoulder to see Hood, but didn’t move. Nightwing was below.

“Really? Ask him if he wants a communicator?” Oracle asked.

“Well?” Hood crouched down next to him, and Tim adjusted the black face mask and ball cap.

“I hope you know I’ll just hide it somewhere random when I’m not using it,” Tim replied. Hood relayed the message.

“That’s fine, it would just be nice if I could pin your location for safety while you're out here,” she replied. Hood dropped the extra comm in his hand.

“Sure,” Tim replied, then put in his ear, zoomed the lens on Nightwing, who grinned at him and waved. These vigilantes were seriously ridiculous.

He had to search around a lot, but he found a doctor, Leslie Thompkins, who treated anyone without asking questions. He walked in and was seen by a nurse who had him fill out a form, and he didn’t give a name.

“Hello,” he said awkwardly as he kept his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Don't worry, I can promise it's nothing I haven't seen before," she said with a smile.

He took a breath and took it off. He hadn’t grown very much, but it was pretty obvious in a t-shirt.

"I'm about 4 months," he said as she took a look, pressing her stethoscope to his belly.

"You are positive?" She asked.

"There was no one else," he said.

"Consensual?" She asked.

He swallowed "no," he whispered. She nodded, then proceeded with her tests, including a sonogram. He stared at the screen, at the little figure. It sets in the reality of his situation.

His eyes misted as she pointed out that it was a boy. "What you would like to do?" She asked once she was dressed and the hoodie back on.

"Adoption in Metropolis or some other city, I wanted to look for a couple," he said.

She nodded, "I might have colleagues to reach out to if you'd like?"

"Yes. Can I think a little longer?" He asked.

"Of course, now I'd like your nutrition habits to be a bit better. Morning sickness is hard, but make sure you eat. The vitamins you have should be fine. They are a little bit small, but if your eating habits improve, it should balance out. I want you back here in a few weeks for another check-up.”

He walked out of the office in Park Row at 7pm. He was expecting a night of bird watching, so he'd pocketed the comm from his hiding spot.

What he wasn’t expecting was a body to fall from a tree when he cut through a park. He inhaled sharply and cut off the scream of surprise.

He turned on the comm, "Uh, Oracle."

"Hey Sparrow, what's up?"

"Honestly? It's raining men, uh make that one dead man," he quipped.

"...Nightwing?"

"On route," Nightwing replied. Tim took pictures with his non-zoom lens. Lacerations around his neck that looked a little strange to be rope burns. He noticed, then, by taking another angle, that he had a cross on his forehead.

Eventually, Nightwing arrived, and Tim handed him his camera drive. “I think this is some kind of religious killing,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, surprised, “You're awfully calm.”

“I was born here,” he said, “and because he’s barefoot, wounds on his feet and hands. Wounds on his neck and around his forehead.” He crouched down and lost his balance a little, Nightingale grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Damn it, he was losing his equilibrium a bit.

“Thanks,” he said, kneeling instead and looking at the wound on the man's forehead and the black cross. “That’s a cross for Ash Wednesday, not the season for it.”

“You’ve got a point,” Nighting said.

“A Crown of Thorns,” Tim said. “I think that’s what the wound is,” he said.

“Someone wanted him to be like Jesus or something?” Nightwing asked, Tim shrugged, then stood up slowly. Nighting called the commissioner and used his gloves to check pockets. An ID fell out and Tim’s stomach flipped. The man was the pastor of a church here in Park Row. Mathew Donahue of Freedom of Faith Methodist.

“I gotta go before I get mistaken for one yours,” Tim said, hearing sirens.

“Sure, thanks for the drive, I’ll hand it to you once we’ve got those photos,” Nightwing said. “You were spot on, kid. Great work.”

Tim did his best not to grin like a stupid little kid as he walked off, but he couldn’t deny the skip in his step despite the awful scene he saw tonight.

Later on, his heart dropped when he saw a text from his parents claiming they were gonna be home for the Wayne Gala. Oh shit, he forgot how soon that was. It was fine, which means they’d stay a few days. He could handle that long.

It was inevitable to find his suit did not fit, the slacks wouldn’t button, and while the waistcoat fit his shoulders, it was obvious that it didn’t lie flat against him. He wasn’t melon-shaped on anything, but his slim body made it obvious with the extra on his waistline.

He went to a tailor shop because his mother would notice if he wasn’t wearing pre-approved brands. The tailor raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Higher-waisted slacks that were fitted and loose in areas helped make things disappear. The waistcoat coat even though a size up, was tailored in.

“You are a genius, thank you,” Tim said, paying him a lot more than normal.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Drake,” the man said.

Mother said nothing except to complain about his unkempt appearance in casual house clothes and a hoodie. He had yet to find any other clothing that would hide the swell. Fortunately, his parents weren’t the hugging types, he couldn’t remember being hugged except halfway at galas.

He was a decoration piece to his parents, something to show off. Before, it was looking at our beautiful daughter, and then it was our son after he’d had his name changed, and it was in the papers. The only reason his parents accepted it publicly was that it would be bad press to look transphobic.

In public, he was the perfect child, and in private, he was nothing but a disappointment. He steered clear of his mother, especially, it was all too easy to avoid his father. “We’ll have your makeup done,” mother said when the gala was a few hours ahead. “The bags under your eyes make a bad impression.”

Not a whiff of concern in her voice, the makeup artist introduced herself kindly but was cut off talking to Tim when his mother described what she wanted done. The girl nodded and worked quickly; by the end, Tim’s bags were gone, and he was a picture of male beauty.

At least it was male beauty, and she didn’t force him into a dress and lipstick anymore. Arriving at Wayne Manor, he forced a plastered smile on his face as he was led around. Mourning sickness was hitting him, and the smells of heavy cologne and perfumes weren’t helping.

Eventually, he was carted in front of Bruce Wayne himself, “Mr. Wayne, it’s a lovely gala as always, you remember our son Tim?” His mother smiled.

“Yes, of course,” Bruce had full Brucie Wayne on and offered a handshake, “hi there, I’m sure it’s boring around all the adults. My kids are across the hall if you want to join them.”

Tim nodded, “Sounds great, Mr. Wayne,” he said, he beelined before his mother could reel him back. As he headed there, he caught sight of someone he never wanted to see again. He shivered, feeling something lodged in his throat.

That man glanced at him with beady little eyes. Tim turned and ran directly into a wall of muscle. “Whoa there,” he bounced but was steadied by the arm on his waist, touching the swell.

Tim jerked his eyes up to see the handsome face of Dick Grayson Wayne. A side look told him that the man still had his eyes on him. Something turned lizard like in his head because he grabbed him and positioned Dick in front of him.

He grabbed his lapels to hide behind him, he knew he was trembling. His breath wasn’t even, and it was so beyond weird to cling to a stranger. Yet Dick was safe, he was Nightwing. He was a former Robin, a hero.

“Try to take a deep breath, in for three seconds and out,” Dick’s voice was light, soothing and he did what he said. He was still scared, even if he was breathing now. All he wanted was to be out of the man’s path, so he stood stock still. “Alright, you looked at a man just now? Gerard Lume. Is that who you were scared of?”

Tim shrank without an answer, but what was he supposed to say? He just wanted to leave, to be far away, but to leave the safety of being here in front of one of his idols, who eventually became his friend? Too scary.

“Aha, he accidentally picked up some of the alcoholic Champaign instead of the grape juice,” Dick was saying probably to some adults who had stopped with curiosity. “Come on, Tim, I’m sure we can have you lie down somewhere.”

Tim moved, Dick’s hand guided him in a wide arc to block Lume’s gaze. Tim should have felt more panicked about his hand at his waist. Dick wasn’t stupid, you couldn’t be a partner to the Batman if you were. He had known, had to feel the firm roundness when he first caught Tim.

He forced the small breaths to keep from full-blown panic because it wasn’t just that someone knew. It was that Nightwing knew, and he was a hero, and heroes couldn’t help themselves. They had to save people.

The door closed, and the lights flickered on in the library with a comfortable-looking couch and chairs. Tim could breathe, but his pulse was racing. He came out from the slumped position and slammed his hands on Dick’s chest to push.

Dick blinked and stepped back and Tim kept pushing until the older boy in front of him sat on the couch with no choice. Tim’s fingers curled to grip his collared shirt. “You know,” he said without looking at his face.

“Um, yeah, sorry. When you bumped into me. You’re pretty thin but a lot on your waist so” he sounded genuinely apologetic.

“Fuck,” Tim breathed.

“It’s okay, I’m not a reporter. I won’t say anything about this,” he snapped his eyes to Dick’s steady eyes. “But Tim, who does know?”

Tim's eyes flicked away. “A doctor, I’m not stupid.”

“Your parents don’t know?” Dick whispered “how far? What if you need help?”

“My parents would probably lock me in a room until I gave birth and then dump the baby in a Gotham orphanage, if not in a canal,” Tim whispered. “I can’t tell anyone.” The low high of his pulse had his vision blurring a little.

He had been nauseous all day, he slid slowly to floor, his forehead on Dick’s knee. “Hey? What’s wrong?”

“Just dizzy,” he mumbled, “leave me, I’m fine.”

“Uh, how about not a chance?” Dick’s sassiness as Nightwing coming out in full swing. “Did you eat?”

“Four crackers at 9 am count?” Not that his mother gave him time for lunch, preparing for the gala, including a debrief on all the people he had to meet today.

“Sit on the couch, lie down. I’ll have Alfred bring you some ginger lemon tea. That’s good for nausea, and I’m sure he’ll know what to bring for you to eat. And don’t worry, Alred’s kept every secret of Bruce’s for his entire life. He’s not a gossip,” Dick said.

“Master Bruce has made an adequate excuse for all the kids in the party hanging out together. Not to worry about your vacancy,” Alfred said as he offered a teacup to Tim. He sipped after finding the lemon smell pleasant, and the little bit of honey was well placed.

“Thank you,” Tim said, the warmth made him feel better already.

“Of course, Master Timothy. Now I think you’ll find some toast quite gentle. If you are up for it, perhaps some congee later?”

“Oh, I probably have to go home at some point,” he said.

“Not so, Master Bruce set it up for a sleepover,” Alfred said. Tim was too comfortable to object, so he nodded.

“I’ll go find you some pajamas,” Dick said cheerfully.

“Master Timothy… I am somewhat aware of the situation. May I inquire simply about Gerard Lume for the safety of those in my charge and future guests?”

Tim nodded. “he’s a child predator, went to trial a few times but never convicted, probably bought off the judges or the whole jury.”

“I see… I’ll make sure he is blacklisted from Master Bruce’s circle. If you don’t mind, when are you due?” Alfred requested.

“I’m at 15 weeks,” he said quietly.

“Understood, I am sure that we have a comfortable guest bed if you’d like to sleep once Master Richard brings you pajamas?” He asked.

“Um, I’d like to take off my makeup and decide then?” Tim asked, not used to people being so kind and accommodating.

“You’ll find an assortment of toiletries in the en-suite bathroom, including makeup wipes and a face cleanser,” he said as he brought Tim to the living quarters and a bedroom, clearly a guest room with neutral decor.

“You're the bomb, Alfred,” he said.

“Ah yes, that I am,” he chuckled, Dick made an appearance with clothing.

“If you decide you want to hang out, we’ll all gonna be in the third door to the left,” Dick said pointing down the hall.

Tim sighed as he shut the door to the guest room and put the pile of clothes on the bed. He shed the slacks, the button, and the waistcoat. It was very freeing because his skin was pretty sensitive lately.

He wasn’t a fan of looking at himself, but he couldn’t not when his belly ballooned out like this. The pajama pants didn’t fit, but he made it work by tying them and rolling them up. The shirt fit like a dress, oversized yet still managed to drape the swell.

The hoodie was a godsend, even if it was beyond big and he had to roll up the sleeves a lot. Tim wandered to find the room and opened it. Dick, Damian, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, and Barbara Gordon were around the couch. Mario Kart on the screen.

“Hey Tim, welcome to the- oh my god,” Dick greeted him but his eyes went wide “so cute, look at how adorable you are in my clothes.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Tim turned around.

“No wait,” Dick said.

“Play with us,” Stephanie grabbed his arm to get him to sit down “Tim, right? Call me Steph, that’s Cass, Damian, and you know Dick,” Damian was squinting at him like a tiny, suspicious Bruce Wayne although he probably looked like his mother with those lips and skin tone.

Tim was in a weird spot with this group who brought in their group like he was always there. He was so comfortable around them that he eventually fell asleep against the corner of couch despite them being loud and excited playing video games.

He was woken to everything silent and Dick was nudging him awake “how about you sleep in a bed?” He recommended.”

“Ugh, no, tired,” he mumbled then held out his arms “if you want me to go to a bed, you have to carry me,” it was a joke. It was joke! He was picked up like he weighed not a thing.

“I was kidding,” he blushed “let me down.”

“Nope, never joke about uppies, I will comply,” Dick said carrying down the hall until he got to the guest room. He set him down once inside. “Listen, I’d like to tell the others about your condition.”

Tim stiffened “you said you wouldn’t tell.”

“And I won’t tell anyone I wouldn’t with trust with everything I’ve got. You need someone looking out for you and we... might have gleaned a couple things about you. You parents aren’t there if you really need help.” In other words, they went Batman stalker reconnaissance on his life. Damn it.

Tim wanted to object about invading his privacy but who was he say a thing? He was literally a stalker of the Bats who figured out who they were. Boundaries here might be overrated.

“I’ll think about it,” he said and went to bed on the extremely comfortable bed, he slept better than he has in a long time even with the bump restricting his ability to sleep on his back or stomach.

“I think he knows,” Dick said mentioned once he’d left Tim to sleep. “Tim is Sparrow, once I saw his eyes up close,” he mentioned.

“Yeah... I can see that too, he’s well spoken and according to his records he’s beyond intelligent but bored in school because of it. Do you think he knows about us?” Barbara asked.

“According to everything we have inferred and researched on Timothy Drake, it is unlikely for him trust anyone so easily. Yet he did so with us, he likely knows. Should we dispose of him?” Damian asked.

“No Damian, we do not dispose of anyone. Especially not people vulnerable positions,” Dick admonished.

“We dispose of assholes only, who are we talking about?” Jason slipping in the window of Wayne Manor was usual.

“Uh... Tim Drake is Sparrow,” Steph mentioned “and what do you mean by vulnerable, Dick?”

“Gerard Lume most likely sexually assaulted Tim,” Cass mentioned in a rare moment of speech and the air chilled.

“Can I kill him?” Jason asked.

“We’ll make him pay eventually,” Barbara promised “I’ll look into all the cases and see about evidence, if there’s any, we’ll bug him and plant hidden cameras every place he goes.”

“How did you know that, Cass?” Dick wondered.

“Expression, scared of that man,” Cass said.

“Tim is transgender, is there something else we need to worry about?” Barbara asked and Dick couldn’t help stiffened “no?”

“Holy shit, he’s not?” Jason stiffened.

“Yeah,” Dick sighed, ruffling his hair “I think the safest thing right now is air it all out. Tell him who we are because there is no way he doesn’t know by now.”

“He requires care and if he will trust better as heroes than wealthy neighbors, perhaps that is best,” Damian expression.

“Aww, so you do like him,” Dick smiled, earning a flushed and angry expression from Damian.

In the morning he was woken by Alfred knocking “I thought you might think about breakfast,” he said when Tim croaked a “come in.”

“Okay,” he agreed then stood up and nearly walked to follow the butler down the hall before realizing he was only in a t-shirt right now. He flushed and went to put on the ensemble that made it less obvious.

He entered the dining room to find most of the kids plus Jason Todd there too and immediately felt suspicious because normally he didn’t associate with the public. He was “dead” after all.

“Morning,” Bruce Wayne greeted.

“Nearly afternoon,” Alfred checked his watch “it is nearing 11,” he informed Tim.

“Oh, I hardly ever sleep that long,” Tim flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, most days I can’t be woken before 10 am,” Bruce said “you know, because our nightly activities?” oh shit. He definitely knew now.

“Try some porridge, Master Timothy, it’s sure to be easy on your stomach,” Alfred set the bowl in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said and tried some to avoid speaking while the rest of them were silent. “Um, so I guess you know?”

“Yeah, how do you know?” Dick asked.

“I followed everyone from the roof tops since Dick was Robin, I saw the night Dick’s parents... uh anyway. I knew about Robin’s quadruple flip, and I connected it when I saw him do it as Robin. The rest were easy to figure out after that. I didn’t want to do anything with that knowledge, so if I got some pictures that would infer who you were. I got rid of them,” he explained.

“What was a rich kid from here doing out in Gotham streets in the first place?” Jason asked, looking a little frustrated.

Tim didn’t answer that; he shrugged, lowering his head. “Doesn’t really matter how that started, but we have something else more concerning we need to talk about,” Barbara said. “Tim, you can’t go out in Gotham anymore now that we know your uh bodily state.”

Tim deflated, “Yeah, I know that. I wasn’t planning to do it for much longer.”

“How far along are you?” Bruce asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Mastor Timothy has mentioned he is 15 weeks,” Alfred answered.

“Tim, please?” Dick looked at him, clearly wanted to explain things to Bruce. Tim’s fists curled and he nodded.

“If we’re giving out secrets that aren’t really secrets then sure,” Tim said.

Dick launched into explanation as Tim glanced at Bruce expression, his eyes narrowing and his fist curling. “Cut the scary expression B.”

“I’m angry, a child predator was in my house and could have preyed on any one of my kids. He already...” Bruce paused, looking to Tim with a much calmer expression when he saw Tim's wide-eyed look. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out. I’d like you to stay at the manor rather than go home.”

“What? Oh no, Mr. Wayne. I couldn’t ask you-”

“I insist. I understand that you are above average intelligence and frankly, too independent for your age, but you are fifteen. Fifteen and will be going through a lot of body changes, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with. How about this? I let you help with cases, but you stay here? You can have full access to resources and the comms to assist us, but you have to stay in the cave.”

“Fine,” he said, “but my parents...”

“Don’t worry about them, I will figure out something.”

“You're all fine with this?” Tim asked the rest of the Bat family.

“Well, we did give you a comm,” Barbara said, “which means we appreciate your input.”

“And named you a bird-related alias, doesn’t that make you a teammate already?” Jason Todd asked.

Tim staying at the manor should have been awkward at first, but it was surprisingly not. He was comfortable in a way he never was at home. Alfred was also a miracle worker; the daily tea fixed his morning sickness, and he was able to eat again.

He went through a growth spurt then, gaining several inches on the swell. It was heavy, and the resulting gut made his gait change. Luckily, he had top surgery with a suspicious surgeon, or his chest would be swelling too.

It was starting to get warmer outside, so hoodies were out, and he felt hot nearly all the time. Though at this point, unless the hoodie was Dick’s, even a hoodie couldn’t hide the bump. His back hurt from the extra weight pushing a curve to his spine, he couldn’t help.

“It’s all downhill from here,” Tim muttered as he sat in the batcave with his research on the string of murders that were all religious. Mathew Donohue, John Fragert, Mark Ever, Luke Strass, all some type of pastor, father, or religious connection.

All disposed of in the same way, CCTV picked up nothing because cameras out in parks weren’t so common. And nothing in the surrounding area was either, maybe that meant they were killed in the parks where they were found.

“Drake, we have returned with burgers and veggie burgers,” Damian announced, startling him a bit. He glanced at the time, nearly five am.

“How’d you get burgers this early?”

“I know a guy in Crime Alley, keeps his burgers under a warmer for late-night people if you catch my drift,” Jason said, setting a burger on Tim’s desk. He opened the rapper and tore into it. Burgers and fries were a craving for him, not that Alfred let him indulge it too much. “You will not be getting gestational diabetes on my watch, Master Timothy.”

“Mmgh, I love you,” Tim said.

“Yeah, yeah, so what you got on this case?” Jason asked.

“All killed the same way, and no perp yet. Their experienced and likely have religious mania of some kind. Haven’t found any kind of DNA on them according to the autopsy. It’s also strange that there’s no real connection between them other than their occupation and gender,” Tim sighed.

“Mathew, John, Mark, Luke,” Jason’s brow furrowed. “Hey, that’s familiar. Wait, wait, Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John,” a light sparked. “Wait a minute, could this guy be killing people like killing disciples of Jesus?”

“Holy shit,” Tim said, standing up quickly to go to his evidence board and tripping over it the rolling chair leg. Jason caught him.

“Oof, slow down,” Jason cautioned. Tim started writing on the board, listing all disciple names, crossing the ones off that they knew of.

“So each religious figure was killed close to their respective workplace in a park. So we need to look at churches close to parks. I think it’ll be hard to clock the next victim based on just first names...”

“No kidding, their only common names by now,” Jason sighed “Well you keep on this, but after you sleep, you’ve been up all night.” Tim was steered up the elevator to his room where Alfred had, embarrassingly, purchased a pregnancy pillow. He kind of hated that it was so comfortable, supporting him perfectly.

He was out like a light and slept until about 5 pm and waded into the dining room for dinner. “Yum, meatloaf,” he said as he took a bite, not awake enough to acknowledge that Jason, Damian, and Dick were all there.

“Listen, chum, I think it’s time we figure out how you’d like the end of your gestation to go,” Bruce said. Tim paused eating. Usually, they didn’t talk about it even if he was sure they all noticed he’d gotten a lot bigger lately.

Most of the addressing his condition was with Alfred, where he insisted on nutrition and light exercise, walking around the manor rather than sitting around as he wanted to. He was so content to ignore it completely, but the flutter he was feeling made it hard.

He was at almost twenty weeks, the kicking would start any day and he’d already felt the flutters. Once the third trimester hit, he’d get much bigger and have to think about next. “I... want to give them up for adoption. Find a couple in a metropolis or some safer city with a couple nothing like my parents,” he said.

Bruce nodded, “Okay, we’ll look into it, find couples on waiting lists. Don’t worry about anything, we’ll background check them,” he said. “And did you want to meet them?”

“Yeah, that... might make it easier for me if I know their nice people. That way, I’ll be happy to give them up,” Tim tugged a stiff smile on.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded, “so in that case, we’ll work on you staying in Metropolis around your due date.”

“Do you... ever want to meet them? Your baby?” Jason asked quietly, Tim startling at that word he was trying to avoid thinking about. That he was growing a baby.

“I... only if they wanted to meet me. Later,” Tim said.

“Makes sense, Tim, that’s a good decision,” Dick said.

“It’s... I don’t want them to grow up thinking their bad because I was raped. I’d prefer they never knew how old I was.”

“That doesn’t sound plausible,” Damian said.

“Damian,” Bruce said.

“I am just speaking the truth, it will eventually need to come to light. Far in the future, perhaps, but knowing that won’t change them if they are raised in a supportive family.” Surprisingly kind words for Damian.

“Yeah, you might be right,” Tim said after a long contemplative pause.

Tim left the house for a doctor's appointment later that week; it turned out Dr. Thompkins knew Bruce as well. “You're developing well, keep up whatever changes you’ve made. Any pain or concerns?”

“Back pain?” Tim suggested that after the sonogram, Bruce sat with him and held the print of the developing baby.

“Unfortunately, I can only recommend that you sleep and sit with plenty of back support. Though maybe you look into a belly band. It’ll support you especially after you enter the third trimester,” Dr. Thompkins added.

“I’ll order that,” Bruce said.

“Another thing I’d suggest is doing some pre-birth exercises.”

“Like pregnancy yoga?” Tim wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll have Dick help you,” Bruce said.

“Oh joy.”

Tim had finally made a breakthrough on the case, finding that that was a pattern to the religious murders case. And could narrow down victims to see who frequented parks by watching their daily habits.

“Okay, time for yoga,” Dick interrupted him.

“But I just made headway,” Tim said as Dick pulled him off the chair.

“Unless you just found the killer, we’re going to stretch. Plus, your hips will get tight sitting all the time.”

Tim wasn’t happy with being brought to the bat training grounds in a t-shirt and shorts, especially with Jason and Damian around. “Wow, is that normal?” Jason dropped to a squat to look at his feet which were swelled up.

Tim glared “I’m carrying an extra 20 pounds in water weight, what do you think?”

“Could give you a foot massage later, if you want?” Jason asked with a smile.

Tim gaped at him, flushing as he looked away “why are you guys being so... ugh.”

“They are touchy people, you will get used to it,” Damian said.

“Okay, let’s stretch on the floor,” Dick said.

“Okay, but I won’t be getting back up,” Tim lowered himself to padded floor. Going into a butterfly stretch first made it obvious he needed to work on all of that. It was on the floor that he felt it, a real actual kick and his breath hitched.

All of them paused too, trying to gauge his reaction. Tim knew it was hormones welling up the tears in his eyes as he felt the small feet thumping him. He sobbed and found himself immediately wrapped up in Dick’s arms.

It was comforting, to be held until he could breath better and he sniffed. “I need them to be wanted,” Tim’s lips trembled “I wasn’t, I knew that and I’ve always known.”

“No,” Dick spoke “you are wanted, we want you right here. Whatever shape you came here isn’t important. And your baby, they will be wanted and loved.”

Tim nodded “okay.”

He felt the kicking more often and it was accompanied by hands and movement. As much was he wasn’t happy with being pulled from his work, he was getting more flexible. His butterfly actually had thighs to the ground now.

Also he was hungry, craving salty food which is why he’d bribed Jason with embarrassing shots of Nightwing in exchange for French fries. “Come to papa,” he made grabby hands at Jason, dressed in his entire Hood get up sans the hood.

“Alfred doesn’t like you eating this too often,” Jason said, depositing large fry in palms.

“Mmhm,” Tim handed over the photo and Jason grinned as he took it. “Not my fault, baby is all about the potato.” His belly covered his lap now, past a soccer ball.

“The kid has good taste, then,” Jason smirked “that reminds me, Dicky is in Bludhaven so I get to be your stretch partner today. Up and at em.”

“What? But I got something important, I found CCTV footage...”

“Which will still be there in ten minutes,” Jason all too easily lifted Tim out of the chair “gah, you are getting heavy,” he walked him into the exercise room. “Now sit.”

Tim flushed as he slowly knelt and eventually made it to the floor. No one in Gotham, especially not the rogues, would believe that the Red Hood leads pregnancy yoga. “So I have some news, Bruce and I were looking through families who have applied for adoption. And you better believe, we’re running the full background check on all of them. We found a couple, Korean American in a nice little spot in San Francisco. They run a bakery? How cute is that?”

Tim swallowed taking in everything “and San Francisco is safe?”

“Well, it’s a city so not totally all the time but yeah, their area is a safe place. It’s got an elementary school nearby and their family has their grandmother and grandmother living in their home too. I went personally to watch them for a while. Honestly, their neighborhood is like a little village,” Jason said.

“That’s good, wow, then they’ll have grandparents too and since their Korean, they’ll look a bit like their parents so it won’t be so obvious she’s adopted,” Tim said.

“So...you want to look at their file? Want us to reach out?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” he agreed “could you...talk to them about my circumstances. Gauge their reaction, make sure it doesn’t change wanting her?”

“Yeah, I’ll go myself even,” Jason promised.

Tim found their religious killer through cctv footage that they’d set up in every park around the city. Finally they’d nailed this crazy religious crazy woman who fancied herself as a reincarnation of Mary.

Dick had arrived in Gotham just in time to be sent out with Batman to go find her before she killed another one. Unfortunately, she’d sort of escalated and went out in her old lady nighties without a bra.

“Ugh, please brain bleach me,” Dick groaned as he laid his head on arm rest of Tim’s chair where he was filling up a file of evidence to send to the Commissioner Gordon. He hit send then patted Dick’s hair. “That was hood territory, why we have to do it?”

“Hoods running an errand for Tim, looking into prospective parents,” Bruce said, shedding the cowl.

“Really? That’s great,” Dick perked a bit then glanced at Tim “aww, look at your whittle cheeks.” Tim glowered at him, he was getting really close to his due date so lately everything was pretty flushed. “you got bigger while I was gone, how is she?”

“Heavy and I need her out,” Tim needed to pee alot and everything was squeezed together in his body and he couldn’t take deep breaths. And his feet were swollen, none of his shoes fit and he swore even his fingers looked kinda fat.

“Just a few weeks left,” Bruce squeezed his shoulders.

“Everything went good, they got what happened and they understand completely,” Jason explained at dinner when he’d gotten back via zeta tube. “They really, really want her Tim. They weren’t deterred when they heard how things went down. Um, they had a request actually but I told them I’d ask about it, first?”

“What is it?” Tim asked.

“They’d really like to meet you,” Jason said and the table still of all sound as everyone judged his reaction.

“It could be good for you, meeting them” Bruce said.

“I... okay,” Tim said.

Tim felt the nerves as Jason helped him out of the car they took from the zeta tube. His belly made it hard to keep balance with being in his last month. He tried his best to ignore the curious looks, there was a reason he didn’t go out of the house anymore.

He glanced up at the bakery, it was cute. The entrance decorated with little adorable tigers on the windows, a cafe style setting with tables and chairs inside. Jason’s hand was firmly at his shoulder even as he opened the door inside.

A pretty lady with black hair tied in a bun and an apron walked past the counter. “Ah, welcome. Thank you so much for entertaining our request,” she said, her accent light but still a bit formal. “Please, come sit down. You must be tired,” she offered a cushy chair in a corner with couches.

“Thanks,” Tim said, Jason helping him sit in the lower but comfortable chair.

“Let me call for my husband, one moment,” the woman said and she called up the stairs, in korean, and a man came down quickly. He was tall and a bit muscular, the man looked kind though. They both sat across from Tim on the sofa together.

“I’m Kwan,” the man greeted “and this is my wife, Yuna, thanks for letting us meet before the baby is born,” he said.

“Timothy, but everyone calls me Tim,” he said “and it’s good to see where she’ll grow up.”

Yuna and Kwan startled a bit “she?” Yuna beamed “then it’s a girl?”

Tim glanced at Jason “well, I didn’t mention it I guess.”

“Yes,” Tim nodded with a smile, this couples excitement was a bit infectious.

“Wow, I bet she’ll be beautiful; just looking at your face tells me that,” Kwan said “speaking of, I wanted to talk about you a little? Yuna and I don’t want to keep the truth from her. We want her to know she’s loved even though how she got here was a bit messy,” he explained.

Tim swallowed “yeah, that’s good. I... my parents aren’t good people. They’re high society and only seem to care of their business. Most of what I got out of life, I pulled strings behind their back to get it. Maybe I’m a little ungrateful though because I always had money.”

“Don’t, Tim, money isn’t the same as love. They didn’t give you that when you needed it,” Jason said.

“And now? Are you being taken care of right now?” Yuna looked worried, she really did look like she’d help him if he wasn’t.

“I...yeah, I am being cared for now. Bruce, my adoptive father, is very supportive,” Tim said “and when I first learned about the baby, I mostly wanted them done away with. But I think now, I’m glad I couldn’t do it because it means they’ll be raised by good people,” he said.

“Would you ever want to visit? Meet her someday? She might be curious as to her real father is,” Kwan asked.

“Someday, if she really wants to meet me,” Tim said, he hoped by then he’ll be out of his parents grasp.

A few weeks later in a metropolis hospital Tim ended a ten hour labor with a healthy baby girl of 8 pounds and 2 oz. Tim held her afterwards, marveling at the tiny bitty features and her hair.

Her eyes were definitely like his own, he wondered if they’d end up like his icy blues. “We naming her?” Jason sat holding the certificate.

“Nari Yeona ” Tim said, he had asked if Yuna and Kwan wanted to name her but they said they’d rather he give her a name. Her first ever birthday gift from real father, they said. So he called her Nari, a korean first name meaning Lily and Yeona, heart of gold.

“She’s pretty,” Dick said.

“Hmph, surprising as it is more expected that new borns come out ugly,” Damian said. Tim chuckled at that, laying back as he fell asleep.

A few hours later, he woke with Bruce holding her, his hands looking enormous compared to her. “Are you gonna have trouble letting her go?” Tim asked with a tired smile, he was still pretty exhausted.

“Me? No, not since I know she’ll be cared for once she’s with her new parents. What about you, Tim?” Bruce walked over, settled her into his arms where he looked at her. She was so little, he couldn’t believe it.

“No, I’ll be okay,” he smiled as she wrinkled her nose from his hand on her baby soft cheek.

Tim’s belly was still a bit swollen when they left the hospital. Dressed in comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, he felt a bit self conscious about it. Despite it though, he felt amazingly light in his sneakers, his face still a bit puffy from water retention but shiny and refreshed.

“Okay, time to go meet your parents baby,” Tim cooed, her eyes were open as she stared at him. He hadn’t wanted any baby supplies beyond newborn clothes and the carrier to give to Yuna and Kwon.

Yet he held her all the way to San Francisco, feeding her formula and changing her through the car ride until they arrived. Dick went with this time and drove them. “Okay, you’re home,” Tim said, his voice wobbling as Yuna and Kwon excitedly met them outside the shop.

“She’s so beautiful,” Yuna was nearly in tears as cradled Nari “what’s her name?”

“Nari Yeona, I figured I’d mix so she’d have Korean names but still an American middle name,” Tim said and the couple nodded, both nearly in tears as they looked adoringly at her.

“Nari, yes, I love that,” Yuna beamed then pulled Tim into a hug “we’ll raise her well.”

“I figured you would,” Tim agreed “well... I should go,” he glanced at her and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I...let me know if she ever wanted to meet me.” Tim got into the car, Dick stared to drive and Tim refused to look back.

Tim relaxed against the seat, hand resting on his belly button where the last of water weight and swelling was from carrying his baby for 9 months. His breath hitched and his eyes welled up and he cried. Dick pulled over and hugged him “I’m okay,” he said even if it didn’t convincing. “I’m happy she went to them.”

“You can be happy she’s with them, kiddo, and still be sad to let her go,” Dick said, rubbing his back. Tim actually did feel better after he cried, always had done but now he was hungry.

“Can we get a burger and fries? Hospital food was gross and fast food was okay but I want a real one. A juicy one that Alfred would frown in disapproval about,” Tim said.

“You got it,” Dick grinned.

“And when we get home, after I recover a bit, teach me how grapple gun?” Tim asked.

“Uh, let’s focus on balance and strength training first. Bruce has had a suit made for you months but no one gets away with field work without passing Bruce’s tests. Even Damian,” Dick said.

“And a suit won’t work great if I can’t fit in it” Tim pinched the pudge at his hip. He’d gained a lot of fat on his hips, thighs, and backside.

“Hey, don’t worry about that, Timmy. You were literally padding up to protect a baby, you’ll get there eventually.”

Six months later Tim landed on a wrecked up car with his Sparrow suit on, black boots laced up his knees with a black and red accented suit. The group of men froze “listen, it’s cute that you think because Hood had another mission, you can do what you want,” he said.

“Sparrow!” the little boy, one the alley kids, perked “they took Mam’s stash, all of it.”

“He’s a kid, what's he gonna do?” one the of the men scoffed, that accent wasn’t from Gotham.

“Robin was a kid too, smaller than this one and that kid right there is a bat. Listen, we don’t know anything about no stash,” the other man said, raising his hand.

“Fuck this,” the man not from Gotham pulled out a pistol, Tim flung his batarang and he dropped it, “you took my thumb off!” the man bellowed.

“You tried to aim a gun at me, I wouldn’t try it again if I were you. Give back the money you stole and maybe you’ll make to the clinic for them to sew it back on for you,” Tim mentioned, the man charged a him.

Tim smacked his jaw with extended bow staff and he went down “well, I did try to get it back to you. Who wants to play?” he asked. The other Gothamites raised their hands in surrender.

“Nah, I’m done, here” the wad of cash was offered up “what’s your moniker, kid?”

“Sparrow,” Tim said handing it to the alley kid for safe keeping. “I’ll you go without a trip overnight in a cell, gets stupid over there so they can get his thumb back on. After that, I’d recommend you tell him to get the hell out of Gotham. He won’t live long trying to square with the Red Hood.”

“Yes sir,” one of the men said, collecting stupid on the ground plus his thumb to run out.

“Let’s go home, kid,” Tim said.

“Yeah...can we grapple to my house?”