Chapter Text
The GCPD officer standing in front of him looked as exhausted as Tim felt.
“I’m sorry kid, we’ve tried your parents and they're just not answering. We’re doing everything we can. Are you sure there’s no one else we can call?”
Tim looked around the police station. A few hours ago, it had been filled to the brim with the hysterical noises of those affected by Scarecrow toxin. Most people had either been treated in time with the antidote and were cleared to go home, picked up by an emergency contact, or if they were the worst of the bunch, sent to the nearest hospital.
Now, it was just him and a few other stragglers left.
“Um, I’m sorry.” Tim said. The officer just sighed, mumbled something, and then retreated back to one of the offices.
A few moments passed. Tim kicked his feet and contemplated just sneaking away while no one was looking, but he had the feeling that would not go well for him in the long run.
A few moments later a frazzled looking commissioner Gordon appeared from his office, who Tim had seen throughout the shitshow of a day as he ran around barking instructions, attempting to calm crying kids and the like. He looked exhausted and rumpled with his clothes all wrinkled. He looked around the room for a bit until the officer Tim was talking to before appeared next to him and pointed at him. Tim’s heartbeat began to race. Oh no. What did he do?
Gordon began to walk towards him, aiming for casual but still looking like he was halfway on death's doorstep.
“Hi, son. I’m commissioner Gordon. Sorry for making you wait so long, but it’s been a hassle trying to sort everything out today.”
“It’s okay.”
“It seems we can’t reach your parents, is that normal for them?”
Tim nodded, his heart was still pounding but he forced himself to squeak out a response. “Yeah, they travel a lot for their jobs, so their service can be iffy.”
“Okay. That’s okay. My concern is we can’t seem to reach the emergency contact on file either, a Mrs. McIlvaine? Is that correct?”
Tim’s face drained of any color. Shit, of all the weeks for Mrs. Mac to take a vacation.
“Um.” Tim said dumbly. “She’s visiting family.”
Gordon’s face went through a lot of emotions and then he ran a hand down his face.
“Shit. Okay. Just—we’ll sort something out, give me a bit—“
“Wait! Wait, commissioner, wait!” The officer from before had at some point disappeared and was now speed walking away from one of the offices with a piece of paper in hand. “We’ve got another contact, pulled them from his school's files. They answered.”
Tim's pulse picked back up and his head shot up. “What?” He said at the same time Gordon said “Who?”
The officer stopped and handed Gordon the paper, “Um, a Mr. Bruce Wayne, sir.”
It would be the perfect summer vacation, perfect to Tim, at least. It would be three months of batwatching, skateboarding, and doing whatever he wanted while his parents were off on the other side of the world. It would be a summer without curfews or fancy parties or school. Somehow, he had lucked out and gotten the new teacher, Ms. Jones, for his last semester's English class, and she was harshly against assigning summer homework.
It was perfect, for all of two weeks.
At the beginning of the third week into his extravagant summer break, he found himself in the middle of the most frequented skatepark in Gotham. With sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, he’d finally gotten down the perfect ollie. He was taking a break by the water fountain, something he knew never to drink out of (this was Gotham), and wiped his forehead as he watched the other teenagers and some of the more advanced skaters in the park. At only twelve, he definitely was one of the younger people here, but he hoped he could pass for at least fourteen. But the people of the park paid him no mind.
Tim tilted his head back and closed his eyes, then checked the time on his phone, and decided that it was definitely time for him to call it a day. Tim gathered his things and started to make his way up the stairs.
Then he heard the familiar sound of panicked Gotham screams. To any good Gothamite, this was nothing unusual. Tim, though, immediately perked up. Even in broad daylight Gotham could still surprise you.
Tim looked in the direction of the screams. One or two was one thing, but the panicked yells and shouts had quickly become a mass of people. Now it was a crowd. Tim hurried up the steps trying to get a better vantage point. He needed a roof.
When he finally scrambles up one of the fire escapes, he turns to see a wave of fifty or more people running away from a large cloud of smoke? They look terrified, some people are dropping to their knees and screaming, others crying, and from what he can tell the smoke lacks the familiar green of Joker laughing gas, so the only other option he can think of is Scarecrow. This isn’t good. He steadies himself. He’s sure someone must have called 911 by now, he’s sure Batman was on his way. But what if? What if what?
What if he was the only one who was able to call anyone right now, what if Batman didn’t come? Without another thought, Tim dials 911.
“911 what’s your emergency.”
He wastes no time getting to the point. “Scarecrow, central Gotham. Near the park.”
His message relayed, he hangs up before the operator can tell him to get to safety. He’s already honed in on someone close by in danger, a little girl who has gotten lost in the rush of the crowd and is crying. He can’t tell if she’s just scared from the chaos or if the gas has gotten to her yet, but there’s no time to waste as Tim scrambles down the fire escape and pulls out his one and only trusty gas mask from his backpack. (Which would maybe be weird in any other scenario, but again, in Gotham, you could never be too safe. Especially when you were one Timothy Drake, nighttime stalker of Batman and Robin).
“Hey kid, I know you’re scared but you need to run, okay?” He holds his hand out. She hesitates for a second and then wiping her tears takes his hand.
He can work with this. They get far enough away from the gas and the chaos down an alley that seems safe enough.
She’s shaking with fear. But from what Tim can tell it isn’t the usual life threatening fear that comes with the Scarecrow toxin. He puts the mask on her face.
“This mask will keep you safe, just in case the gas reaches over here, okay?” She nods. Then she starts crying again as if suddenly remembering something. “What’s wrong?”
“M-mommy. She got stuck back there!” Shit. Tim takes a breath.
“It’s okay. I’ll go find her for you, can you just wait here for me? Stay hidden, okay?” She nods. “Okay. What’s her name?”
“Mary.”
Tim makes another split second decision and takes out his phone, handing it to her. “Okay I’ll look for her. And if you feel like you’re in any danger, you use this, okay? All you have to do is press 911 and they’ll help you.” She nods again shakily and Tim pats her head, running off to find her mom.
He pulls his shirt up over his nose, knowing it won't do much if he ingests the toxin but it’s better than nothing. He runs through the crowd, searching for anyone that looks like a distressed mother.
“Mary?!” He calls. He calls her name over and over but has no luck. It’s too loud.
He finally reaches the area where the gas has spread, and coughs as he feels himself ingest some. It’s not enough to stop him, but he does feel his heart racing.
“Mary! Is there a Mary here?”
Finally, he sees someone. A young woman in distress on her knees, asking where her daughter is.
Tim runs through the crowd and reaches her, explaining the situation. He makes sure this is the right woman, he’s pretty sure it is, but she seems too scared from the gas to be coherent. It might not be safe for her to be around her daughter if she’s in this state, so for now he takes her to the nearest safest area he can find. He doesn’t have another mask, but he does have water and a bandana in his bag.
“Drink this, rinse your eyes. Your daughter is fine but you need to calm down, ma’am.”
Tim can’t seem to reach her, but he tries anyways as he wraps the bandana around her face, blocking her from inhaling at least some of the gas.
Tim begins to cough. Shit. His heart rate picks up and he feels his breath becoming short.
The crowd around him becomes one big blur and turns into something else. He sees the flying Graysons falling, his parents disappointed faces and the bodies of Batman and Robin lying on the ground in front of him.
It’s not real. He says to himself. It’s not real!
He closes his eyes, trying to control his breathing. Suddenly a hand on his shoulder startles him and he thrashes. It feels like a claw.
Tim opens his eyes, and the horrific face of Scarecrow is staring at him.
“It’s alright,” Scarecrow says. He says a couple other things but Tim can’t make them out. At some point he feels his body moving on its own, and then he’s sitting down and there are voices that sound like screeches dancing around him. Finally something changes and he feels his heart slowing down. At first he thinks this is it, he’s dying. But then he sees things come into focus.
He blinks.
There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he’s in the back of a van, no, an ambulance. There are cops and EMTs standing around giving antidotes to people. In the corners of his vision he still sees the horrific images, the mangled bodies of his heroes.
“Are you back with us, kid?” The voice makes him jump. It’s familiar though.
Robin stands in front of him.
“Um. I’m okay.”
“Good, good, had me scared there for a second.”
Tim sighs, relieved. Then he remembers the little girl and her mom and he shakily tries to stand. “Oh god, are they okay, there was a little girl, and her mom, t-they got separated—“
Robin shushes him, “hey dude it’s okay, they’re okay.” Robin steps aside and Tim sees the little girl in another ambulance, completely unharmed and in her moms arms. Tim almost cries with relief.
“You know that was a stupid thing to do.” Robin says.
Tim tenses, “well if I didn’t—“
“Stupid, but brave. Just like me!”
Tim laughs despite his distress. "You're not stupid.”
Robin grins and someone calls his name. “Got to go, kid. See you around.”
Tim smiles, exhausted, and feels himself start to drift off.
When he wakes up, several hours have passed, and the precinct is almost empty.
His parents aren’t there, of course they can’t be, it’s just not physically possible at the moment, but he can’t help the fear and disappointment at not having his parents.
Bruce Wayne comes running down the hallway of the precinct looking disheveled, half of his shirt is tucked in and his hair is sticking up.
Tim tenses.
He had completely forgotten that at the beginning of the school year, he’d been in a desperate situation. He had needed two emergency contacts, and when he could think of no one else, he thought of his neighbor. What chances would there be that Bruce Wayne, the Batman, would ever need to actually act as his emergency contact? It was just so Tim wouldn’t get in trouble with the school. And then the entire year had gone by without incident and he had forgotten he’d even found the man's number in the phonebook and written it down on the slip and handed it into the school's office. But now, Bruce Wayne was here and standing only a few feet away talking to the commissioner.
Tim couldn’t tell what they were saying, but when Bruce made his way over to him he didn’t seem annoyed, just concerned.
“You ready to go, chum?” He asked. Tim startled. He hadn’t expected a man he had technically never met (beyond a party or two his parents had attended when he was still little, or behind his camera when he photographed Batman at night), to actually play along with this. He had expected annoyance or anger.
“U-um. Yes.”
Tim stood, said thank you to the commissioner and followed Bruce out of the GCPD hallway.