Chapter Text
Tim had never been a “normal” child. He had been virtually alone since the time he had turned 3 years old; his parents never stayed at Drake Manor for more than a week at a time, he didn’t go to school, and he didn’t have need friends.
That was all because Tim was weird. Not the normal kind of weird, like ADHD or dyslexia, (though Tim was that, too) but, like… saw something in the corn weird. Appalachian cryptid weird. Dogs barking, leaves rustling, rusty weathervane creaking weird.
He was that kind of weird because he had seen things he couldn’t explain, and due to being the inquisitive person that he is, had done his very best to explain them. Once, when he had been left on his own in Drake Manor when he was four, he swore that he saw eyes staring at him from the forest in the backyard. Four-year-old Tim had had a staring contest with the eyes, until they backed off.
When he’d told Mrs. Mac what he’d seen, she said it must have just been a fox.
Tim told her that foxes don’t have glowing eyes.
Before that, when he was three, his parents had taken him to Haly’s Circus. They never took him anywhere, so Tim was determined to make the most of the trip. When he pointed out the funny looking horse to his parents, they didn’t believe him when he said it had a unicorn horn, and told him to stop lying. Tim pouted, insisting that he wasn’t lying, but he knew better than to argue; arguing might mean that he didn’t get to go to the big top show, and he wanted so badly to see it. He had heard there would be elephants and fire-swallowers and acrobats; Tim had never seen such things before, and probably wouldn’t get the chance to do it ever again. So he kept his mouth shut.
Then, after seeing the horses, (totally unicorns) they went to go see the other animals. Tim was immediately drawn to a great horned owl, who twisted its head around to get a good look at Tim. The two blinked at each other, then the owl tilted its head.
You’re one of hers, it said.
Tim blinked, taken aback. Owls weren’t supposed to talk. Tim looked around, seeing if anyone else had heard it, but no one reacted. Tim looked back at the owl. “Did… did you say that?” he whispered quietly.
I did, it said again. Now, Tim could hear it; the owl was actually hooting, but Tim could kind of understand what the hoots meant.
Tim grinned, wide and impish. He could speak owl! “Cool,” he whispered, poking the owl on the beak before his mother pulled him away.
He didn’t dare mention the talking owl to this mother; that might mean they would miss the show. And after getting his very first hug from one of the Flying Graysons, there was no way Tim was missing the show.
He wished he had.
But more of those types of things kept happening over the years. Things Tim couldn’t explain, like owls talking to him or feeling so surely that he was being watched.
When he turned nine, his parents bought him a computer; Tim loved it immediately. The first time he used it, though, something got into the house; something big, and hairy, and awful. Tim hid in the closet with one of his father’s golf clubs and called animal control, like he was supposed to, and for the longest time he sat in the dark closet, shaking fearfully, as the whatever it was tore through the house, sniffing the air, growling and snarling. Looking for him.
Tracking his scent.
Animal control came, and the thing left, and they said it must have been a small bear.
Tim told them he’d never heard of a bear with six arms.
They told him to get some sleep.
Tim took the liberty of buying more robust security measures for Drake Manor, using his parents’ funds to install electric fences and animal control technology to rid the property of moles, bears, and other common invaders. Because without fail, every time Tim used his computer, something tried to get into the house. There was a correlation there, Tim knew; he just didn’t know why.
But so far, the Manor protected him. So long as he didn’t leave the Manor, he would be safe. The Manor was all he ever had to know.
Gotham, 2006
Tim was eleven. He hadn’t left Drake Manor since his visit to Haly’s Circus eight years ago. He ordered all his meals in, and school he could get done at home by completing all the tests and homework with the help of his online tutors. It was a perfect setup.
He had learned much since he was nine. He had learned that Dick Grayson was Robin, and therefore Bruce Wayne was Batman. Then he had learned that Dick Grayson became Nightwing, and Jason Todd was Robin. He had learned that outside wasn’t so scary; he had read all about the ocean and the forests and the cities and the towns. He knew they were dangerous, but that people lived with it all the time. It was normal. Going outside was normal, as long as you had a reason to. Tim had never had a reason to.
So he stayed in his giant mansion, with his security system, all alone. His parents came home maybe once every six months, and Tim really only had to entertain them for a few hours before they left again. Part of him wishes they’d just up and leave him alone already. Part of him wishes they’d finally stay.
Tim smiled as he finished his post on the r/BatmanSightings subreddit, uploading a video of Robin (Jason!) performing a flip over a mugger’s shoulders before taking him out. He’d ripped off of a traffic camera that he may or may not have hacked into; he’d taught himself a lot of things on the computer, and he figured it should’ve been a lot harder for eleven-year-olds to hack into municipal security cameras, but oh well.
In the morning, he would hopefully have some comments to read! For now though, it was time to go to bed. He closed his laptop, then curled up under his covers, waiting for sleep to come.
It was at that moment, starting to drift between the waking world and dreams, that he heard a distant clap of thunder. Lightning flashed in his window, lighting up the shadow of the tree outside; an owl sat on one of the branches, despite the storm. Tim watched it from his pillow; its gray eyes met his, seeming to bore into him.
Go to your door, little lord, the owl hooted after a moment.
Tim blinked at it, thinking he must be imagining things. He hadn’t heard an owl talk since that day at the circus! He sat up in bed, staring at the owl.
“What?” he asked aloud.
Go to your door, little lord, the owl repeated, hooting louder.
Tim stared, then got out of bed. His breath quickened; what was this owl, and why did it want him going downstairs? Were the Things Outside making another move??
Tim couldn’t take chances. Quickly and quiet as a mouse, he crossed the manor to his parents’ bedroom, swiftly going into their closet, where he knew his father had a pistol safe. He’d cracked the combination a long time ago, and had looked up exactly how to handle and fire the pistol model his father had; but he’d never fired it before. Tim loaded the gun with live rounds, then cautiously exited the bedroom.
He heard glass shatter downstairs. Tim stopped in his tracks, scarcely daring to breathe.
He waited around the corner from the top of the stairs, clinging to his father’s pistol like a life raft as he heard the burglars enter the kitchen. “Luke, this is a bad idea!” a girl’s voice hissed, and Tim was shocked; she sounded like she was Tim’s age! Were public school kids getting into burglary now?
“It’ll be fine, Thalia, there’s no one here!” another voice, male, also young, presumably Luke, responded, “There were no lights on all day, no cars in the garage, and no cops around for miles. The rich people who own this place are probably on a cruise ship in Tahiti or something.”
Tim fought the urge to scoff; his parents were in Norway.
“I don’t know, Luke…” another girl’s voice, considerably younger, maybe 7 or 8, said waveringly, “Isn’t it wrong to break in like this?”
“Look, Annabeth, it’s warm, it’s dry, and it’s got food we can eat and a place for us to sleep!” Luke said placatingly, trying to make a case to the two girls, “And look at this place! These people must be loaded! We’re barely inconveniencing them. We’re poor children in need; they’ll feel honored to offer their home to us… even if they don’t know it yet.”
Tim heard the first girl, Thalia, curse. “Look, just stay here with Annie while I check upstairs?” she asked Luke, “I want to be sure no one’s here.”
“You’re wasting your time, but go for it,” Luke responded flippantly, and Tim heard him opening his pantry.
Tim’s pulse quickened as Thalia approached the stairway. He clicked the safety off the gun, his breath getting quicker as fear rose in his chest. There were people breaking into his house! What should he do--?!?
Thalia reached the bottom step. Tim stepped out, pointed his gun at her, and shrilly cried, “Stop!”
Thalia froze in her tracks, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. Tim took in her appearance; maybe fifteen years old, black hair haphazardly cropped short, a black leather jacket, blue top, leather pants and studded combat boots.
She was terrifying.
She saw Tim, saw Tim’s gun, and cursed. “Luke--!!” she called growlingly, and Tim flinched as Luke came running into the hallway below him. Luke was maybe a year or two older than Tim, with sandy blond hair and a wiry frame. He looked up at Thalia, then at Tim with wide eyes.
“Oh, fu--!” he started, but Tim cut him off.
“Everyone stay where you are!” Tim ordered, trying and failing to sound confident as fear jackrabbited in his chest, “I’ll shoot!”
Thalia held out her hands placatingly, as if calming down a skittish deer. “Kid, we’re not here to hurt you…” she said soothingly, “Put the gun down.”
Tim took a step back, tears of hysterical fear rolling down his cheeks as he kept the pistol trained on her.
“Thalia, your shield—” Luke tried, but Thalia silenced him with a look.
“Shut up, Luke, I’m trying to get him less scared, not more scared!” she snapped, then turned back to Tim, “Hey, kid, look at me, okay? My name’s Thalia. The idiot over there is named Luke. There’s a little girl with us too, you can’t see her since she’s below you, but her name’s Annabeth, okay? What’s your name?”
Tim tried to find his voice and kept his gun steady. “T-Tim,” he stammered out eventually.
Thalia but on a brave smile as she put her foot on the next step. “Hi, Tim,” she said warmly, “Is it okay if I get closer to you? That’s very dangerous, I don’t want you to hurt yourself with it—”
“I know how it works!” Tim snapped angrily, keeping it aimed at her, “I’m not an idiot! It’s for if someone breaks in! You’re breaking in!!”
Thalia sighed, but couldn’t seem to fault his logic. “We’re not here to hurt you, I promise,” she tried again, “We just wanted to be out of the rain. That’s all.”
Tim was still breathing heavily. It was raining pretty hard… and they had only talked about wanting food and beds…
Tim clicked the safety back on, and lowered the gun. “Okay,” he said eventually, wiping his face, “Okay, fine. You can stay until the rain stops. But I’m watching you!”
Thalia smiled gratefully, backing off the stairs as Tim descended them, gun still in hand. “Of course,” she said, “Are you the only one here?”
Tim hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. “My parents are in Norway,” he assured them, “You’re safe for now. So, what, are you guys from Crime Alley or something? You know the Wayne Foundation has shelters all across the city, right?”
Luke looked sheepish as Tim finally rounded the corner and got a good look at little Annabeth. She was maybe 7, short with her blonde hair in curly pigtails. She looked scared, hiding behind Luke, who might’ve been her older brother. Tim couldn’t help but notice her stormy gray eyes; the same shade as his own.
“We’re not from Crime Alley,” Luke responded, “And let’s just say we didn’t find the shelters hospitable.”
That didn’t sound right to Tim; all the reading he’d done about Mr. Wayne’s program made it sound like the shelters were transforming the lives of the city’s homeless. They were avoiding the shelters for another reason.
“So you guys don’t want to get put in CPS?” Tim concluded, as it was the only other logical conclusion, “You’re all runaways?”
Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth looked shocked. “How’d you know that?” Thalia asked, and Tim shrugged.
“That’s the only reason I can think of anyone wouldn’t want to stay in one of Mr. Wayne’s shelters,” he responded, “They’re state-of-the-art.”
Luke scoffed, putting a hand on his hip, “Like you’d know anything about being on the street.”
Tim was more than a little hurt, but he couldn’t refute Luke, either. Thalia, however, took offense on Tim’s behalf.
“Luke!” she hissed, whacking the boy upside the head, “We’re counting on this kid’s hospitality! Don’t insult him for not having a shitty life!”
Luke took the hit, rubbing the back of his head sorely, and Annabeth giggled. Tim stared at them; they looked… almost domestic. Like Thalia was the mom, Luke the older brother, Annabeth the baby sister.
Is that what family was supposed to look like?
Tim cleared his throat, more to dispel his own thoughts than get their attention. “So…” he started awkwardly, “Do you want some mac and cheese?”
A few minutes later, Tim had the three burglars sitting at his kitchen table in the dead of night, eating Kraft mac and cheese from the box mix. It was close to the only thing Tim had on hand, though he was getting better at cooking.
They ate in silence, nothing but a few murmured thank yous, until Luke looked up at him. “So your parents are in Norway?” he asked, “Why aren’t you?”
Tim shrugged, “They never take me. They’re on an archaeological dig; I’d just get in the way.”
“Oh,” Luke responded, taking a forkful of mac and cheese, “How long are they gone for?”
“Oh, another five months,” Tim supplied easily, and Thalia and Luke both spit out their mac and cheese in surprise.
“Five months!?” Thalia asked incredulously, “But you’re only ten!”
Tim scowled at her. “Eleven,” he corrected sourly.
“That’s still too young to be living on your own,” Luke pointed out, and Tim squinted at him.
“Then what are you guys doing with a six-year-old?” he asked, using his fork to gesture at Annabeth, who was happily scarfing down her mac and cheese.
“Seven!” she corrected in a sing-song voice, continuing to eat happily.
“Annie is… a special case,” Thalia answered eventually, “She wasn’t safe where she was, so we had to take her with us. Luke and I do our best to take care of her. But we’ve also been around longer, we know how to take care of ourselves.”
Tim arched an eyebrow reproachfully, “I almost shot you twenty minutes ago.”
“And you’re a surprisingly capable eleven-year-old,” Luke acquiesced, “Just… that’s a weird thing for your parents to do, I guess. Are they gone often?”
“All the time,” Tim answered easily, “They haven’t been home for a full week since I was three years old.”
Thalia and Luke sat in stunned silence. Tim and Annabeth continued eating.
“Sorry…” Luke said eventually, “I guess you’ve had a shitty life after all.”
Tim looked at him strangely. Tim didn’t feel like he’d had a shitty life. He had his computer, his books, his house; he had Batman & Robin. What was shitty about that?
It was just that his parents were never home, he didn’t have any friends, and he watched a family of trapeze artists die at an incredibly young age. But that was normal life stuff!
“Hey, Tim, I know this is a lot to ask, but…” Thalia began, “Could we stay here a while? We, um… we kinda don’t have anywhere else to go. And we’ve been traveling for a long time, and up north, if we stay outside in the cold… I’m worried about Annie.”
“And I’ll be honest, you have an impressive security system, dude,” Luke chimed in, a little bit of awe in his voice, “I almost didn’t get through it! Me!”
Tim looked at them, and thought about it. He’d been alone for a long, long time… having people around, even if it was a trio of burglars, sounded really nice. And Annabeth was cute, Tim couldn’t exactly kick her out on the streets. Thalia was kind, and Luke, as abrasive as he was, was a little funny.
“You’d have to hide in the attic when Mrs. Mac is here,” he said eventually, “And we need to fix the window you broke, but… yeah, I don’t see a problem with it. This would be my first sleepover!” He grinned at the realization, feeling excited as Thalia and Luke let out breaths of relief.
“Thank you, Tim,” Thalia said gratefully, taking his hand, and Tim blushed a little at the attention, “You don’t know how much this means.”
“Uh… yeah, no problem,” Tim responded intelligently. He looked at Luke, mainly so that he wasn’t looking at Thalia, but Luke was looking at him with the same grateful expression and it was sending the same butterflies through Tim’s stomach, so Tim turned and looked at Annabeth, who had rested her chin on her hand and was now drifting asleep.
“Oh, Annie…” Thalia murmured fondly, standing up and rousing the girl gently, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.” Thalia scooped Annabeth into her arms, then looked at Tim, “Uh, could you… point me toward a room?”
“Oh, right, yeah, of course,” Tim stammered rapidly, standing and leading her back upstairs, “Follow me.”
There were a ton of guest bedrooms that had never been used, so Tim led them to the one next to his room. Annabeth was halfway to dreamland by the time Thalia laid her down on the mattress, but when Thalia tried to pull away, a little hand darted out and grabbed the hem of her jacket. “Stay,” Annabeth demanded sleepily, and Tim watched Thalia’s expression melt.
“Okay,” she said quietly, and she laid down beside Annabeth on the bed, letting the girl curl into her side.
Tim felt like an intruder. Thalia looked at him apologetically, “Sorry, she’s used to sleeping with both of us now. Could you send Luke up?”
“Already here,” Luke said from behind him, and Tim jumped; he never heard the boy come up the stairs. Easily, Luke settled in on Annabeth’s other side, and the girl seemed to relax fully for the first time.
Tim definitely felt like an intruder, seeing the three of them on the bed. He stepped out of the room, murmuring, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and went to go replace his father’s gun in the gun safe.
After he did so, he passed by the trio’s room on his way to his own. He heard the soft but unmistakable sound of Thalia and Luke kiss. He could see them in his mind’s eye, cradling Annabeth between them, sharing a tender moment after a tense life, before drifting away in each other’s arms.
Is that what family’s supposed to look like?
Unsure of what the tangle of emotion was in his belly, Tim went to his empty bed in his empty room in his empty house in his empty life and tried to sleep.