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Tim leans down, peeking over the edge of the roof, and then nearly falls when he immediately makes eye contact with someone.
With Robin.
Uh oh.
“Cat-boy?” The second Robin, Jason Todd, yelps as Tim scrambles out of sight.
“It’s Stray!” Tim can’t help but shout back. Because clearly what he needs to do at this point is start an argument with Robin. That can’t possibly go wrong.
“Kitty!” Robin hisses as he grapples up and lands on the roof. Which really isn’t fair, Tim should be the only one allowed to hiss. “What are you doing here? There is nothing for you to nick!”
“I-” Tim huffs. If he was a real cat, his scruff would be bristling in offense. As it is, the ears that have probably way too many electronics in them flick to indicate his emotion. Why in the world did he ever add that feature? “I happen to like puzzles a lot, okay?”
“Not puzzles that get people killed when they are done wrong, you don’t,” Robin insists.
“I’m just observing!” Tim reassures. Robin doesn’t look at all convinced. It has been hard to convince Robin that he is just an observer after he found him slinking around an active crime scene. And when he was there before that one shoot out. And when he took those guy’s guns. And when he ran off with one of Ivy’s plants because he wanted to do more research on it. And when he-
Well. Okay. Robin might have a lot of reasons not to believe that Tim is just here to watch.
“If you don’t leave,” Robin threatens, a smirk suddenly clear on his face. “Then the next time B and S are on one of their rooftop chases, I am going to let the cat out of the bag.”
“Birdie,” Tim groans. “Why must you always subject me to your cat puns?”
“You know you love them,” he answers smugly. “They are paw-sitively delightful.”
“They are not,” Tim grouches. “Anyways, you can’t tell B about me. What if he takes me away from S?”
“Kitty. My adoption literally took place because he stole me off the streets,” Robin deadpans. “He is not going to have any trouble with the legality of your adoption. If anything, he is just going to be upset that he didn’t think of it first.”
“He- what?” Tim squeaks. “Why would Batman be upset about not adopting me?”
Robin just rolls his eyes (Tim has become very good at telling when that is happening under a mask) before looking back over his shoulder.
“So, are you going to leave?”
Tim nibbles on his lip, considering. On the one hand, he doesn’t want Robin saying anything to Batman before Selina feels ready to explain Tim. On the other hand…
“If I say I am, will you believe me?” he asks sweetly.
“No.”
“Then what’s the point in leaving?”
“I like to hold out the vain hope that you might listen one of these days.”
“I listen!” Tim exclaims, arms crossing.
“To S. I want you to listen to me,” Robin clarifies.
“Well why should I? You always tell me to leave.”
“Kitty, I am trying to keep you alive,” he sighs.
“And who will keep you alive when B isn’t here?”
“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles. “Now will you just go and run off to rob a museum or something? Nobody’s gonna stop you.”
“Yeah?” Tim asks, perking up with his head tilted curiously to one side. “Why? Is B busy?”
“Hurt,” Robin explains, stretching like he is about to run a marathon. “Agent A is keeping him in the Cave for tonight. I’m to call ‘em if I get into any trouble, but I can’t be in two places at once. While I am taking care of this, go nick that pretty cat statue that pretentious gallery just got.”
“There is a lot more thought and effort involved than just ‘go steal a pretty statue’,” Tim counters, blowing out his cheeks in annoyance.
“You sayin’ you can’t do it?”
“I’m not saying that!” Tim protests, knowing exactly what Robin is doing. He is trying to get Tim to leave this interesting scene alone. So he will be ‘safer’ or something. Robin has tried many times to get Tim, or Stray as he knows him, to be safer. Ever since running across Tim dressed in his black cat-suit, crouched down and talking to a crow. Robin didn’t believe him when Tim said he and the bird were doing reconnaissance. Which is silly, because what else would they be doing? Crows aren’t great at conversations.
Better than mockingjays, but still.
“Then why don’t you prove it?”
“Won’t you have to arrest me then?”
“I’m pretty sure I could technically get you arrested now.”
“Yes, well-” Tim stammers, searching around for some form of valid argument. “Vigilantism is illegal. So there!”
“So there?” Robin echos with a raised eyebrow as Tim flushes.
“I meant to say checkmate,” he mumbles.
“Just get out of here before you get hurt,” Robin sighs, gesturing for him to scram.
“Sure.” Tim grins, pulls out his own grapple, and then jumps from the roof to the sound of Robin’s furious swearing.
As soon as he lands, Tim urges a pigeon to go keep an eye on Robin. Purely to prevent Tim from getting arrested, of course.
It certainly has nothing to do with the knowledge that Batman isn’t out tonight.
Just like him going through the puzzles the Riddler has brought together has nothing to do with the fact that Selina left him to his own devices earlier in the week and he is getting incredibly bored.
She really needs to start leaving him more entertainment when she leaves town. His unsupervised entertainment is not a new thing, it’s just… escalated. To the point that him sitting cross-legged in a dark warehouse with a puzzle in his lap isn’t surprising in the slightest.
Selina would probably just sigh in exasperation and offer to make grilled salmon for dinner.
Robin does not feel the same. The pigeon flies in to coo a quick warning not long before the boy himself drops into the warehouse through one of the high windows that are the only things providing the space with light.
“Kitty!” There’s that hiss again.
“We should switch titles if you plan to keep hissing,” Tim hums, unlocking a new piece of the puzzle.
“Get your fuzzy butt out of this place!”
“My butt is not-”
“Well well well!” The third voice interrupts Tim’s protest, the echoing sound coming from the darkness of the warehouse. Darkness that doesn’t stay that way for long. Lights burst on overhead, temporarily blinding Tim as his goggles, which were set to night vision, struggle to adjust.
Standing in the middle of the warehouse is a man dressed head-to-toe in toxic waste green, purple question marks dotted all over his apparel. His mouth is split in a manic grin, eyes bright behind the mockery of a domino mask he wears.
“Look at this! All in black and with pointed ears too, but you aren’t the Bat.” He clucks his tongue, swinging a cane around in his hands. “At least I’ve got dear Robin. One out of two isn’t bad I suppose.”
“Riddler,” Robin steps between Tim and the man. “I take it the discount thrift store had a going out of business sale?”
“Robin.” The Riddler’s smile dims a bit. Then he looks between Robin and Tim and that smile grows again. “Got yourself a friend, little bird?”
“More like a pain in the ass,” Robin remarks.
“Not supposed to cuss,” Tim says out of reflex. Riddler looks back and forth between them again before settling his gaze on Robin. Almost… pointedly.
“Well, Robin. Are you here to play my game?”
“I assume there’s a threat if I don’t?”
“Aren’t you clever,” Riddler says, clearly very pleased. “Then we are off to a good start.”
The moment he finishes speaking, smoke begins to pour out of the puzzle Tim was holding. He drops it, backing away, but it is too late to put a stop to what is now in motion. The smoke fills the area, blinding Tim, and a pair of hands grab him from behind. He growls, struggling to land a kick on his assaulter, but there must have been a mild sedative in the smoke. His movements are agonizingly slow, his arms feeling like they weigh a hundred pounds.
The person, who is probably the Riddler, drags Tim through the smoke to the other end of the warehouse. Tim can hear Robin searching for him, but the sedative is slowing him as well. He didn’t get his rebreather on fast enough.
Tim is yanked up a set of scaffolding stairs, that do not feel safe in the slightest, and then dropped to the grated ground. Once he pushes away the shock of landing, he looks around to find himself in… yeah. It's a tank.
Uh oh.
“I was going to do this to you, Robin,” Riddler explains, his voice coming from behind Tim. Behind and above and- is he leaving? “I was going to make Batman watch and do my puzzles. But I suppose that this will work just as well. Better, even.”
A low rumble starts above Tim and he looks up at an ominously placed set of pipes.
“After all. They do say that cats can’t swim.”
“I’m not a literal cat you know,” Tim informs the man, leaning against the surrounding glass and glaring up at his captor.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Riddler murmurs. He closes a second grate at the top of the tank, effectively sealing Tim within. Then the water turns on. Tim pouts, annoyed, aware that he very much looks like a sodden and very upset cat at the moment.
“Stray!” Robin shouts, using Tim’s actual title for once.
“Robin,” Tim says calmly, turning to look at his friend through the glass. “Just solve the puzzles, alright? I know you are way smarter than you pretend to be.”
Tim expects this last comment to get a laugh out of Robin, but all he receives is a fleeting, strained smile. “Right.”
“Alright, on to the puzzles!” Riddler chimes, clapping his hands together in excitement.
Robin completes puzzle after puzzle after puzzle, and honestly? It gets really boring after a while. Because Tim isn’t doing the puzzles himself. And he can’t even help Robin after the water has risen to a certain height and he has to focus his energy into treading water egg beater style. If there was room to float he would, but there isn’t. Stupid Riddler and his design meant for Robin.
Tim doesn’t even technically need to tread water, not with his ability, but Robin doesn’t know about that. In fact, no one knows about that. And Tim would very much prefer it stays that way. If at all possible.
Which, with the way things are going, might not be. Truly unfortunate.
While Tim is just calmly floating (sorta) around, Robin is starting to freak out. Probably because the water has almost reached the top grate and there are still 5 more riddles and puzzles. Riddler clearly had a build-up of ideas during his last Arkham stint.
Just before he goes fully under the water, Tim hears the quick cooing of the pigeon he stationed at the entrance to the Cave to let him know whenever someone left it. So Batman is on his way. Good. He can take care of Riddler before anyone gets hurt.
Now that there is no air left in the tank, Tim allows himself to sink to the bottom so that he can sit and watch Robin. Robin, who is- he’s really upset. Why is he so upset? Even without his ability, Tim would be fine for a while longer. There is no reason to give up on completing the puzzles and turn to trying to break the tank’s glass.
Tim can’t hear either of them, but he has no doubt that Riddler is being unbearably cocky and smug about how he is winning. Based on the angry flush to Robin’s face, the way he is full chest shouting.
The glass isn’t budging, not even a spider-web crack, no matter what Robin hits it with. And while Tim isn’t in danger here, he would rather not traumatize his hero. He presses a button on his wrist and the claws at the ends of his gloves that were merely decorative before now become diamond-sharp weapons. He slices his nails against the glass and it very quickly begins to fracture. Riddler was not prepared for this sort of gear to be carried around by his captive.
Just before the glass breaks, a dark figure descends from the roof and Tim grins. He won’t have to worry about Riddler when he gets out of here. At last the glass breaks away and Tim stumbles out, unsteady due to the water rushing out around him. Robin clearly thinks that it is for a different reason.
“Stray!” he shouts as he rushes forward, his voice hoarse from however much screaming he just did.
“Robin, I’m-” Tim is interrupted by the other boy grabbing his face, desperately examining every inch of him.
“What happened?” Robin demands. “How are you still conscious?”
“I’m good at holding my breath?” Tim tries. The furious look of Robin’s face kills that excuse pretty quickly. “I’m a meta, remember? I don’t need to breathe.”
“You’re a meta.”
“Yeah? I talk to birds all the time?”
“Kitty,” he huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you were a bit crazy.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t just say ‘oh’! You had me really worried there.”
“Worried?”
“Yes, Kitty! I thought I was going to have to try to give you CPR!”
“Birdie,” Tim says seriously. “If you ever break my ribs trying to give me CPR, I will sneak into your room and shred your books.”
Robin laughs and then yanks Tim into a tight hug. He freezes for a second before melting into the embrace, the cold from the tank’s water bleeding away in the face of Robin’s warmth.
“I was so scared,” Robin whispers.
“I knew I would be okay.”
“I didn’t,” Robin murmurs, holding Tim even closer. “How are you always so confident?”
“I trust you,” Tim tells him with bright belief. “A little birdie told me too.”
“Literally?”
“Of course.”
“Ahem,” Batman interrupts. He has the Riddler tied up and gagged at his feet, ready to be taken to the GCPD.
“Yes?” Tim says, eyes widened to make himself look perfectly innocent. He tries to find where B is injured, and is able to spot the man favoring his left side, specifically his chest. He must be sporting at least a few broken ribs.
“Catwoman said you are alone for the week.”
“She- she told you about me?” Tim asks, stunned.
“I saw you on our security feeds and asked her.”
“Yeah?” Tim says, very quietly. He can feel Robin standing right beside him, fully supportive.
“Yes. Would you like to come with us?”
“To drop off Riddler?”
“To the Cave.”
“Are- are you going to like- arrest me?” Tim forces out.
Robin bursts out cackling, bending over to support himself on his knees, before looking up at Batman. “You always adopt criminals, eh?”
“I am not adopting Stray.”
“K, but he’s going to be your step-kid anyway.”
“Catwoman technically didn’t adopt me. I have parents,” Tim protests.
“Semantics,” Robin says with a shrug.
“Legalities.”
“Hn. Where are these parents?” Batman wonders.
“No idea,” Tim shrugs. “But that doesn’t matter! Why do you want me to go with you?”
He doesn't answer, instead he starts walking with Riddler over his shoulder.
“Should you really be doing that?” Robin calls out, grabbing Tim’s hand and pulling him after Batman. “Agent A is going to be upset about all this moving you are doing.”
“He will be distracted.”
“Ah, is that the real reason you want to drag Cat-boy along?”
“No.”
“But it’s a factor~” Robin chirps in a sing-song voice, yanking Tim along until they are skipping after the Dark Knight. “Are we only letting him in the cave?”
“Of course.”
“Oh I know your identities.”
“What? How?” Robin demands, stopping and staring. Even Batman turns around to look at Tim.
“Something the first Robin did. I’ll tell you later.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just say ‘a birdie told me’,” Robin laughs.
“Ah, they did, but that was after I figured it out.”
“Hn.” Is all Batman says as they all climb into the sleek form of the Batmobile. Riddler is in his own area in the back, a seat specifically for criminals and dangerous passengers.
“Do we get to know who you are?” Robin asks after a moment.
“Oh, uh-” Tim stops to think. Should he tell them? Is there harm in doing so? Bruce already knows Selena’s identity. He’ll know Tim’s sooner or later. Wouldn’t it be better for Tim to have the chance to tell them both honestly? “Timothy Jackson Drake.”
“The- your family lives next door,” Batman says, startled.
“Yup.”
“I thought they were out of town, you don’t go with them.”
“Never have.”
“They’re back maybe five weeks in a year.”
“If we are being generous.”
Batman doesn’t have anything to say to that, thinking the matter over in silence.
“Got it, so we can keep you.” Robin concludes.
“No.”
“Not taking critique at this time.”
“Robin, we can't just take him.”
“He got in the car willingly.”
“That is true,” Tim muses.
“Don’t agree,” Batman sighs.
“Too late, he’s on board.” Robin taps his com, “Alfie can you make triple fudge brownies? We have a guest.”