Chapter Text
With the last of his report written, Tim saved and uploaded it to the Batcomputer before slumping back in his chair. It only took a few seconds for the progress bar to fill and it zipped off to be read and reviewed by Bruce whenever he had the time. Knowing him, it was probably going to be later tonight when he should be sleeping.
But that wasn’t Tim’s problem to deal with, even if he did feel bad Alfred had to wrangle five stubborn - six if Cass was in town - workaholics every day. Honestly, he didn’t know how the butler still had any patience left.
Tim dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the blurriness that came with staring at a computer screen for six hours straight without moving. Reaching out with his left hand, he groped for the top drawer and felt around for the small bottle. Picking it up, he tilted his head back and squeezed two drops into each eye. The world stayed blurry until he blinked rapidly and everything cleared. His eyes felt less itchy so he figured he could get in another three hours of work before needing another break.
“Hey, Tim.”
Startled at the voice, Tim turned sharply in his chair and hit his knee against the inside of the desk. He swore, even as he recognized who it was.
Dick, who had politely lingered near the bedroom door, came in with concern flitting in his eyes. “You okay there? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Fine,” he gritted out, rubbing the offended joint. “Are you here for something?”
“Oh, um, yeah. But first, you didn’t come down for dinner.”
Tim paused at Dick’s suddenly awkward tone. It was highly unusual for the older man to sound so tentative. “Yeah, I was tracking down a lead and I didn’t want to lose it,” he said slowly. “Is Alfred mad? Bruce?”
“No, no,” Dick said hastily. “No one’s mad, bud. We’re just a little worried. You’ve been working overtime for weeks now, and we’ve barely seen you. I was just checking to see if everything is okay.”
“Everything is fine,” Tim assured him, brows furrowing in confusion. Didn’t bosses normally like it when their employees put in one hundred ten percent? “I’m just trying to wrap a few urgent cases up.”
Dick smiled a little but it was nowhere near the usual wattage. “I know how you get when you’ve got your sight set on something, Just…make sure you take care of yourself too, Tim. There will always be cases but there’s only one you.”
What an odd thing to say. Tim studied Dick’s expression, but it was always a little guarded when it came to interacting with him. All the Bats had the same wary look which, okay, Tim understood. He knew their secret. He wasn’t part of the family and they would be stupid to think that job loyalty was enough to buy his silence forever. But he’d also been working for them for two years now and proved himself trustworthy. They hadn’t even checked his tracker in months. Didn’t he get some credit for that?
Dick slowly extended a hand, as if not to startle him, and when Tim didn’t move, let it fall gently on his head for a quick hair ruffle. “Alfred saved you a plate in the fridge. He refused to let me bring it up here because he doesn’t want you to think you can keep getting away with this.”
It was honestly more than Tim expected. So he nodded. “Thanks, Dick. I’ll get it later. What was the other thing you needed?”
“What? Oh…right. Um, do you have the paper copy of the Bowery chop shop file? I need to see the paint sample again.”
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Tim stood up and headed to the dresser which normally would have a stack of case files. But he had been working to reduce the amount and it took him less than three seconds to find the correct one. “Here you go.”
Dick took it and flipped through it briefly, glancing at the evidence bag where a sample of the car paint was sealed. “Perfect, thanks Tim.”
“Sure.” Tim went back to his chair to click on the next case on his queue but when Dick didn’t leave, peered at him again. “Is that all?”
The older man opened his mouth, then appeared to change his mind. “Uh, yeah. Hey, we’re having movie night. Come down for a bit, okay? You’ve been holed up in your room all day and you need to take a break.”
Tim frowned but when Dick didn’t move which meant he expected a reply, he bit back a sigh. “Yeah, okay, I’ll try.”
“Jay or Dami will come get you if you don’t,” Dick threatened. “See you soon.”
After Dick left, Tim allowed a scowl to grow on his face. He shut the door and locked it. He had work to do and couldn’t get distracted by a movie. Besides, that was a family activity and he wasn’t family. Settling back in his chair, Tim opened the queued casefile. With the deadline approaching quickly, he needed to clear everything before he could leave with a clear conscience.
But something inside him drew his thoughts away from work and he hesitated. After a moment of indecision, Tim moved his mouse to click on his partitioned external drive. Dick had told him when he first started working for the Bats that everyone was his and private. But he knew that was an illusion they told him out of courtesy. So he made a partition drive with enough security to give even the most expert hackers some trouble. Tim typed in his passwords and waited until the only folder in the drive opened. File 14.G02.
The last file he would ever make in connection with the Bats.
Tim clicked on the document labeled ‘master plan’ and skimmed it briefly, even though he had written and read over the entire file multiple times.
It wasn’t blackmail. It wasn’t writing down secrets, his or anyone else’s. No, this was merely a to-do list to keep himself organized, and he had already checked off quite a few boxes on the list. He’d already packed away all his personal documents like his social security card and birth certificate in his go-bag hidden in his office at WE. Only two items were left.
One of them was waiting for his birthday so his child supervised bank account would convert to an adult one. This was an automatic feature, the bank teller had assured him, and would happen on his birthday, or the next business day. WE paid all the interns a stipend which was supposed to help college students survive on more than packaged ramen and canned foods, but its main goal was to supplement basic support. Tim had saved every penny he could when Bruce opened up a bank account for him. But it wouldn’t be enough to live off of more than a year. His first priority would be to secure a job that could support him. Luckily, Tim had very few needs so he'd be all right.
Next to his skills, money would be the biggest factor for survival.
The last thing he needed to do was clear off his cases and wait until he turned eighteen for the legal guardianship to expire.
Then he would leave the Bats.
The day after his eighteenth birthday dawned dull and smoggy. A glance out the window and Tim could already see the air shimmering from the heat. He sighed, wishing that if Gotham was insisting on being gloomy and an environmental disaster, it would at least mitigate the hot temperature. If only he had been born in October or March, Tim thought wistfully, before sliding to his feet.
He made the bed and took a shower and brushed his teeth. After changing into pressed khakis and a starched polo, Tim surveyed the room briefly. He had tried to tidy it up so Alfred wouldn’t be stuck with cleaning the entire mess, but he had to make it still look like he was coming back. It would buy him some much needed extra time.
Keep moving, he told himself. Don’t stop. If he stopped, he wouldn’t go through with the rest of his plan.
Satisfied it didn’t look too suspicious, Tim picked up his backpack and headed downstairs. Entering into the kitchen, he made a beeline for the coffee machine. Alfred had already made him a travel mug to go but Tim wanted to enjoy one last coffee at the Manor. “Good morning, Alfred,” he murmured.
Alfred had plated sausage and toast and eggs, sliding it towards him on the island counter. “Good morning, Master Tim.” The older man smiled kindly which did more than the coffee did to spread warmth through him. “I made your lunch. It’s by the door with your mug.”
Tim paused for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “Um, I forgot to tell you that I won’t be needing lunch today.” At Alfred’s head tilt, he continued in a rush, “I- my team and I are going out to lunch. Kind of like a celebration for finishing phase two on that mini generator project.”
“I see. That is quite an accomplishment. Enjoy lunch with your coworkers.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. Gulping down the coffee, Tim rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher. He swallowed one sausage, moved the eggs around on the plate, and picked up the toast and a napkin. “I gotta go, Alfred. Thanks for the coffee and breakfast!” He ran out before Alfred could lecture him, but still heard the heavy sigh of resignation from his unfinished meal.
Tim almost bowled over Damian who had just come down the stairs. The younger teen scowled. “Watch yourself, Drake,” he snapped, shoving him just enough they wouldn't knock into each other.
“Sorry, Damian,” Tim said. He skidded a halt and looked him over. As usual, the younger teen maintained an impeccable standard of dress. Even so, Tim set his toast down on the napkin on a side table. Then he reached out to smooth the collar of his blazer and straighten his tie. “Looking pretty polished today.”
Damian’s askance look was filled with confusion and suspicion. “This is the standard Gotham Academy uniform. I wear it every day,” he said flatly.
“Still looks good on you,” Tim said with a small smile. “Not everyone can make a uniform look fashionable.”
“Tt,” he replied but he ducked his head a little. “You look…normal.”
Tim laughed. “Coming from you, that’s a high compliment indeed. Okay, gotta run before I miss the bus. Have a good day.”
“Pennyworth would be more than happy to take you to work so you don’t have to leave so early,” Damian pointed out, not for the first time. “Why do you not avail yourself to his services? He will be dropping me off at school and Wayne Tower is not so out of the way you are inconveniencing him.”
“I like taking the bus,” he said and his heart ached because this would be the last time he would say this. “It makes me feel independent.”
“Tt. Independence is well and good, but it is foolish not to take advantage of the resources provided to you.”
Tim smiled again. “I’m eighteen now, Dames. I can’t rely on Bruce forever.”
The younger teen scoffed. “You hardly rely on Father for anything. You don’t even go into the office with him even though he works there as well. All you do is work at WE in during the day and work on cases at night. You take the bus back and forth because you refuse to use any one of the twenty cars in the garage, and you declined to accept any presents for your birthday which is not the norm. Grayson told me so.”
Damian appeared to still be bitter about Tim rejecting any kind of gift the Waynes tried to give him. But gifts came with obligations and Tim did not want to get caught up in that. When he made a break for it, he wanted it as clean as possible.
Of course, the youngest Wayne couldn’t understand that. He had grown up as a prince in the League and was still pretty much treated that way by everyone, even in Gotham. Bruce and Dick encouraged him to do normal child-like things and did it together with him; Jason and Cass always gave in to in his desires to spar and train; and Alfred made more vegan-specific meals than not. Even Tim found himself indulging him by sitting for a sketch or walking the dogs with Damian despite having work that needed his attention. Curiously, those demands most frequently came when Tim had overworked himself but refused to stop until Damian barged in and ordered him to do something non-work related.
So Tim just chuckled and picked off some invisible lint from Damian’s shoulder. “I’m just not a birthday present kind of person. You know this. Now look, I really have to go or I’m going to be late. Have a good day at school!” He hesitated, then squeezed that same shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Dames.” And without waiting for an answer, Tim darted out the door.
He ran to the bus stop a half a mile down the road, bag flapping on his back, and just managed to get there before the bus pulled away. After tapping his pass on the scanner, Tim collapsed onto an empty seat before realizing he left his toast in the front hall of the manor. He also wished he had taken the travel mug but it wouldn’t be right to leave it at WE for until someone noticed it growing things. Knowing Gotham, probably something sentient that would take over half of Wayne Tower. Wouldn’t that be a mess?
He smiled to himself at the absurd but completely plausible possibility but then it faded. The first part was done. Now came the hard part.
Going into WE for the last time felt far more bittersweet than Tim expected. He went through bullet-proof glass revolving doors and dumped his backpack onto the conveyer belt where it was scanned for weapons. He tapped his keycard at the gate to open and then waited for the security guard to gesture him forward. Tim stepped through the weapons detection scanner and picked up his backpack. “Good morning, Charles.”
The security guard grinned at him. “Good morning, Mr. Drake.”
He went past the receptionist desk and offered a smile. “Good morning, Andrea.”
“Good morning, Mr. Drake. Looking very grown up,” Andrea said, gesturing to his new keycard hanging around his neck on a lanyard.
Tim glanced down at it. He had been given a new one yesterday, although nothing much seemed to have changed apart from the new picture he had to take for the pass. “Eighteen is not so different from seventeen,” he remarked thoughtfully.
“But it’s a little different from sixteen,” she replied with a smile. “It’s about time you got a new card anyway. Your old photo didn’t look very much like you.”
Wincing, Tim had to agree. The picture from his previous keycard had been taken when he was still recovering from his illness when Batman first picked him up from the streets. He had still been gaunt and more skeleton-like than not and it showed. But as he got stronger, Bruce, ever practical, saw no reason why Tim couldn’t earn his keep by interning at WE’s research and development department.
It had been a dream come true. Once upon a time, Tim imagined working for WE in the very department he ended up in. At first, he only worked a handful of hours a week. But as he regained his health and Lucius saw his potential, his hours increased. Although he was technically a minor who was supposed to only work a limited number of hours, Tim had nearly all the credits he needed to graduate high school early before everything went up in flames. Bruce ensured he received his GED and promptly allowed him to work up to twenty hours a week. He supposed if he stayed, now that he was legally an adult, he could be hired full time.
Tim waved to Andrea and headed towards the elevators. He had some work to finish and tidy up his space before enacting the second part of his plan.
Of course, nothing worked out perfectly on schedule, but Tim had factored that into his timing. He stepped out of the elevator and immediately saw something was wrong through the nearest glass window enclosure of the skin graft project. Tim hadn’t really been working on the operation but helped the team out on occasion when they needed to run some extra complicated numbers. Two people were shouting at each other while someone else sat on a stool, staring off into space. The rest of the technicians just sat around, looking either tired or upset or numb.
Tim took in a deep breath and pushed the glass door of the lab. The two scientists stopped arguing and everyone in the room looked at him. Hope sprang into more than one person’s eye and he sighed. “Okay, what happened and how can I help?”
Apparently their last calculations had been so off it ruined the synthetic skin’s elasticity. By the time Tim had helped them find the error in the calculations and set them back on track to recreate the skin replacement, nearly two hours had passed and Tim still hadn’t made it into his own lab. He slipped out when everyone was back to work and nearly ran into Lucius Fox, the head of R&D which made him Tim’s immediate boss.
Lucius shot a hand out to steady him. “What are you doing here Mr. Drake? This isn’t your project.”
“For the millionth time, Mr. Fox, it’s Tim. And I know. But they needed a fresh set of eyes to figure out what went wrong with the initial production so I volunteered to help.”
“That’s very gracious of you, but you have your hands full with your own work,” Lucius said, eying his backpack still strapped to his body. “If you stopped to help everyone else, you’ll fall behind on your own work and then you’ll stay up too late trying to catch up.” He offered Tim a wry smile. “And that wouldn’t make Mr. Wayne very happy with me.”
Tim nodded reluctantly. Although every project in R&D was important, Bruce wouldn’t want Tim to stop focusing on the night job to do WE work off-hours. “I understand. I won’t do it again.” And that was easy to say, because today would be his last day here.
“Thank you, Mr. Drake. Let me walk you to your lab before anyone else waylays you with requests for help.”
Accepting the escort, Tim headed down the hallway until they reached the end of the hall to his lab. Opening the glass doors, he kept it open for Lucius before going to the back of the room where his office was. Tim dropped off his backpack and came back out to see the head of R&D examining his 3D floating schematic of the mini generator on the projector. He hadn’t lied to Alfred when he said they were done with phase two, which meant all the initial planning was done. Phase three would be to build the actual generator.
It hurt that he wouldn’t be around to see it, but Tim had timed the project and his eventual disappearance where he could leave when it was least disruptive. If the rest of his technicians stuck with the plan, they wouldn’t have too much difficulty making the generator, which was powerful enough to run an entire wing of a hospital while using clean energy and portable enough for one person to carry.
“This is amazing,” Lucius murmured, flipping the image around to see the various angles. “You surprise me every day with what you can accomplish, Mr. Drake.”
“Tim,” Tim corrected. He didn’t understand why his boss insisted on calling him by his last name. Lucius didn’t do that with anyone else as far as Tim could tell, except with Bruce in an official capacity. “And don’t expect anything yet. We actually have to make it now, and hope the circuitry is insulated enough to withstand that much surging power.”
“I have every confidence in you to make it happen,” Lucius assured him. He glanced around. “Where’s Haruk and Philippa?”
“I asked them to stop by the warehouse on 29th street to get some extra equipment and arrange the delivery of the couplings we’ll need for the next few weeks,” Tim explained. “They’ll be here by lunch time.”
Lucius tilted his head slightly, brows slightly creased, but nodded and smiled. “Very good. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Watching his nominal boss leave, Tim frowned. Lucius always liked to check in with each lab at least once a week for an informal progress report and to see if anything was needed. But he had done that earlier this week and even stopped by yesterday to wish Tim a happy birthday. So why another check?
But Tim couldn’t bother figuring out that mystery now. He had to finish organizing all his notes so his two technicians could begin working creating the mini generator. They would have to hire a new lab manager and Tim hoped they would actually follow the design layout.
But that wouldn’t be Tim’s problem. He had to finish cleaning up before leaving to catch the train to Washington, DC.
By the time it was twelve thirty, Tim tidied up the last of his paperwork into an organized pile for whoever would pick up the project after him. Everything was done. He could leave, not look back, and be satisfied with his work here. After giving WE and the Bats two years of his life, it was now time to move on.
Tim took out his phone and looked at his messages. Jason had sent him some stupid meme about Hood in the ’hood that Tim half suspected he created himself just to mess with Bruce and get cheap laughs. He answered with a quick ‘haha’ meant to be sarcastic and was rewarded with the middle finger emoji.
He chuckled to himself. He was going to miss Jason.
Before allowing his mind to wander down that pit, Tim set the phone down on his desk. It had enough pictures and text messages to make it painful to leave behind. But taking a phone with a half a dozen trackers would get him caught two steps out of the door and he didn’t want that. Not when he was halfway through his plan.
Tim surveyed his lab one more time. It was a large space, probably the biggest one on the entire floor. It had once been Lucius’ and was left unused after the older man’s promotion until Tim joined. Bruce had told him to hire whoever he wanted and to work on any project that caught his fancy. It had been, quite frankly, a nearly overwhelming period of change, from having no options to too many. His dream ended up coming true, albeit in a completely different way than he expected.
It was good while it lasted.
Glancing at the clock, Tim realized he was running behind again. He took off the semi-expensive but practical watch Bruce gave him as a welcome-to-WE bonus and set it next to the phone. He’d never checked the inner mechanisms, but Tim wouldn’t be surprised if there were trackers in there too. The keycard came off next. Then, out of curiosity, he ran a quick check on his clothes. He found two trackers that definitely weren’t there this morning before he had met Damian. Tim smiled to himself; the younger teen was too good at sneaking the tiny bugs on him.
Finally, he scribbled a simple note that said ‘Thank you for everything’. He left it next to the keycard.
Going into the closet, Tim traded the khakis and polo to something less formal and more comfortable for traveling. He had always worn a collared shirt and dress pants to work so he hoped wearing a casual shirt and shorts wouldn't have anyone look twice at him. Tim pulled out another backpack and checked it over for more trackers. He didn’t expect to find any because no one should know about this go-bag. Once satisfied it was clean, he set his old backpack in its place and shut the door.
Tim had hacked into the security system at Wayne Tower when he first started at WE, just to see if he could. And just like Batman’s technology, it was solid and intimidating. But just like Batman’s technology, it also had holes that Tim gladly exploited. He patched up the weaknesses, but left a back door for himself. Just in case.
And he took advantage of that now. From his new backpack, he pulled out a contraption that looked more like a mess of wires than anything else. But it had a screen and a mini keyboard and access to the security system. He set the cameras on a loop, gave himself access to the service elevator which would open in thirty seconds, stuck his slapdash computer back into his backpack, and headed out.
Tim avoided as many cameras as he could and headed to the maintenance area. The crew had their own elevators, one of which led directly to the loading docks. But it was private and didn't stop at any floor except whatever level was pressed. Tim hit the button for the rear door and waited impatiently as the elevator zipped down. Eighteen seconds later, Tim was out of the lift. Eleven seconds after that, he was slipping through busy workers unloading a shipment of crates from the loading dock, and melted into the crowd. He was gone.