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Day Two Hundred and Seventy Seven
“Are you excited to start school tomorrow, Tim?” Bruce asks over the dinner table, pork stew with buttery rolls. It’s January 5th, Sunday, School starts tomorrow for the new semester. Tim has been tutoring with Barbara for the past semester, and while he passed the benchmark test to go into eighth grade like originally planned by his parents... he is instead enrolled in seventh grade.
“Oh uh... yeah.” He pushes the stew around with his spoon.
Bruce gives a small smile, leaning forward. “You don’t have to lie, Tim. It’s okay to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous just... Why couldn’t I be in eighth like I’m supposed to be?” He takes a bitter bite of his stew, but it’s impossible to keep a frown with food this good.
It’s a conversation they’ve had since Tim first heard the news, and Bruce sighs. “You missed a semester of proper schooling, Tim. Even with Barbara’s tutoring we thought it best if you were only a single year ahead of your peers rather than two.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I’m not calling you stupid, Tim. I’m saying you have already been through a lot, straining you with hard schooling would do more hindrance than good.”
He sighs and digs into his roll, he’s not looking forward to being around a bunch of idiots all day.
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Eight
He didn’t want to be treated with kid gloves, even though all the adults knew what had happened, and he’s sure even some of the kids knew. He wanted to just be like any normal kid, but walking through the doors into the loud shouts of Gotham Junior High had his shoulders tensing.
Bruce walks him to his first class, he spends several minutes with both his teacher and the principal about Tim’s disability accommodations. Full allowance to leave class if it gets overwhelming, with a counselors door always open if he needs to decompress.
“Alright Chum,” He kneels down, ruffling Tim’s hair. “I’ll be here to pick you up at 2:30 okay? Then we’ll pick up Jason and get some ice cream.”
“He’ll want chilly dogs.” Tim corrects.
Bruce laughs, “You can have ice cream instead.” He knows Tim isn’t a fan of chilly dogs, he remembered that after Tim was too nervous to tell Jason otherwise, but the grimace on his face told another story.
“Okay. I’ll be fine, B.” Tim smiles. “I got this.”
“You do.” B presses a kiss to his head, “And you have my number in case anything goes wrong.” As well as Jason’s number, Dicks, Alfreds, Doctor Thompson, Barbara’s, Selina’s, and a Bat Emergency signal.
Tim doesn’t think he could be any more prepared for school.
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Eight to Three Hundred and Thirty Eight
He was right, everyone in his class are idiots. Seriously, who gets confused about fractions? They’re fractions! He spends the first five minutes of every class completing the classwork, then the homework, then he’s there twiddling his thumbs for the remainder of class. At least in Science he’s allowed to help Ms. Sanchez in preparing for her next class of AP Biology. They’re dissecting frogs, that’s cool as hell.
The other kids don’t really talk to him, and he doesn’t really care. He texts Jason throughout the day, the two sending each other memes and joking about schoolwork. Apparently Jason’s advanced English Literature class is full of morons who have only heard of Pride and Prejudice as Jane Austin’s only work.
Overall school is fine. Some days the students just don’t shut up and he can’t take it anymore, leaving and walking through the halls until he can bear the sounds again. Other days he’s so bored he sneaks into an advanced math class just to see what they’re learning.
Day Three Hundred and Thirty Nine
Then comes Merging Day. A day before spring break where Gotham Junior High takes a trip to Gotham Senior High so they can get a chance of what it’ll be like in the big school. They’re taken on tours, meet the upperclassmen and teachers, and everyone is shoved in the huge gym for an assembly of some sort. This year it’s about some fear gas survivors and how they persevered through it without an antidote for a full twenty minutes. Because Gotham.
But he can feel the heat of everyone in the gym around him, he can feel the walls closing in, and there’s just... too much noise.
He leaves out one of the side doors and no one tries to stop him.
Walking the halls of the huge school is nice, he looks at some of the boards by the classrooms, seeing what kind of things teachers to Senior students put to motivate them.
He hears the steps behind him and tries to pay it no mind, maybe it’s just faculty taking a much needed break from the chaos of the gym as well.
Then he hears them speak.
“Oh man it is Tim Drake. Did you hear what happened to him?”
“I heard his parents completely forgot him on their recent trip and he lived in the woods. Like Tarzan.”
“No no they locked him in a closet hoping he’d be dead by the time they got back. Apparently Batman found him.”
“How would Batman have found him if he was in a closet, dumbass?”
“With his Bat-Kid-Decetor duh!”
“Dude let’s just ask him!” The boys call out to him. “Yo Timmy! Were you in the woods or in a closet when Batman found you?”
Tim freezes, hands clutching the straps of his backpack. He should just ignore them, continue to walk the halls. Yes he shouldn’t be ashamed of what happened like what everyone said but they don’t need to know!
He tries to do just that, keeps walking, but soon he’s surrounded by the boys. “Hey Tarzan, we asked you a question! What, that time in the woods make you forget English?”
“No it was the time in the closet! Look how fucking pale he is, no person in the woods stays that pale.”
“Well which is it?”
“Neither.” Tim finally croaks out. “I... it was my room.”
“Your parents locked you in your room? And left you?”
“They had a trip... they didn’t mean to... my house sitter-”
“Oh my God his parents did abandon him! Talk about not wanting your kid, sheesh.”
“That’s not what happened-”
“Why did your new daddy say they just forgot? You know Bruce Wayne is just gonna leave you the same way, right?”
“Yeah, probably get tired of you and lock you in the same way.”
“Or dump you off in Crime Alley.”
“He won’t do that.”
“He got tired of Dick Grayson easily enough.”
“No that’s... that’s not what happened.”
“Oooh you think Wayne’s a diddler?”
“Oooh shit probably! Why he got so many sons.”
“Damn going from parents who don’t want you to a diddler that must suck-” WHAM. The hit is unexpected from all parties. Tim doesn’t know why he did it, he just wanted them to stop talking.
And they did, Jameson had a bloody nose and his knuckles were aching. But the boys quickly turned on him, cornering him with anger in their eyes.
“Oh that was a fucking mistake, Drake.” One grips the back of his neck, he thrashes, tries to escape, but another has a hand over his mouth. They’re carrying him towards the lockers, the rest of the school is in the assembly. They’re jeering, calling him names, pulling his hair and making his eyes tear up.
“Hey Damon, open up your locker. Let’s give him some memories of home.” No!
He fights with more vigor now, he’s screaming behind the hand, he manages to get his teeth around it enough to bite. The hand pulls away, the boy swearing, but Tim can barely get a proper scream out before his head is slammed into the locker and his vision blurs.
He’s shoved in, backpack and all, hands holding him in until the locker door comes closer and closer, then at last he’s let go. And the locker slams shut.
“No!” He’s crying meekly, banging on the doors. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“Sorry buddy, you’re just not wanted around here.” One laughs, kicking the locker door hard. “We’ll let you out at the end of the day... probably.” He hears them walking off, he can’t stand upright, he’s sobbing and still banging on the lockers. How is no one else around? Surely a janitor or someone!
The walls are already closing in, he can’t breathe, his hands go to his hair and he pulls hard. Not again. Not again not again not again.
He doesn’t know how long he’s in there, sobbing and breaking down, but eventually he runs out of tears. And slowly he remembers his phone, of Jason.
It’s hard getting the backpack in front of him in such a small space, his elbows bruise as they bang against the metal walls. But eventually he can open the small zipper his phone is in, pulling it out.
3%
Right. He forgot to charge last night.
He has to do this quickly.
He opens his contacts, pulling up Jason's number and calling. He has it on speaker, he’s pulling as much air into his lungs as he can to calm himself down.
It goes to voice mail.
“No no no.” He redials, he sees the percent drop to two. “Please. Please Jason please.”
Another voicemail, he sobs harder. He dials again, praying and pleading to anything that will hear him-
“Timmy? What’s wrong?” Jason’s voice is so worried, he doesn’t hear the cacophony of the gym, he must have left the assembly.
“Jason.” He sobs out, he can’t form words, but he has to tell Jason.
“Timmy deep breath okay. Where are you? I’ll find you.”
He takes a breath, then another, 1%. “I-I don’t know.”
“What do you-”
“Locker.”
There’s a pregnant pause. “You’re in a locker?”
“Y-yes. Boys, th-they cornered me and... I tried t-to fight.”
“Okay Timmy I’ll find you. Just take a deep breath and stay with-” He’s cut off as the phone turns dark, as Tim is once again left completely alone in darkness.
He tries not to fall apart.
Day Three Hundred and Thirty Nine
Jason ran through the halls, trying to retrace Tim’s steps of where he would go, and where some asshole boys would corner him. He finally remembers the tracker on Tim’s phone, Thank God B is a paranoid jerk! His last ping has him in the south wing, the other side of the school.
He turns on his heel and runs as hard as he can. He reaches the south wing and tries to ping his phone more precisely, but it can’t. The metal around the lockers stopped it from giving him a precise location, and if Tim’s phone is dead he can’t do a vocal ping.
This is bad.
“TIM!” He shouts down the hallways. “Tim! It’s me! It’s Jason! C’mon baby bird say something!” Nothing, his heart is hammering in his chest. He’s about to sound the emergency signal when he hears laughter down another hallway.
It’s Jameson and his dumbass goons. They’re shoving each other and laughing. “Do you think Drake will piss himself in there?”
“Oh man I hope so! If he was alone in his room he probably had to drink it for water.”
“Not if his bathroom was connected, dumbass.”
“Well it’s funnier if it wasn’t!”
“Where the FUCK is he?!” Jason roars at the boys, charging at them, a kick that sends Damon flying into a row of lockers. He spins, punches another, and then he’s holding Jameson in a chokehold. “Where the fuck is my brother?!”
“Fuck! Easy Todd!” Jameson tries to say, but it’s choked out.
“I won’t ask nicely again. Where. Is. He.” He’s twisted Jameson's arm behind his back, face pressed against the lockers.
“I was just a joke-” Paul defends, trying to pry Jason off his friend. But Jason only kicks his legs from under him.
“He’s in Damon's locker!” Jameson finally cries out as his arm is twisted further.
Jason grinds his teeth, “What. Fucking. Number.”
“Ow! Fuck dude you’re gonna break my arm!”
“I’ll do worse than that if you don’t tell me the number on the fucking locker.”
“Shit! Damon what fucking locker number!”
Damon has finally sat up, holding his head, he’s groaning. “Jesus... my head.”
“Damon!”
“Uh... 312.”
“312!” Jameson cries out. “312 he said it! Let me go now you psychopath!”
Jason is quiet for a moment, before finally pulling his arm that final inch to have a crack echo in the hallway. He lets Jameson drop to the ground crying in pain, then kicks his chest. “Tim is my brother.” Jason announces to the trio. “You fuck with him, you fuck with me. Got it?!” It’s only after he receives pained nods that he turns and runs back down the hallway to the locker.
It’s another two hallways away, but finally he skids to a stop at locker 312. “Tim!” He knocks on the door. “Timmy, can you hear me?” He presses his ear to the door, listening for the smaller boy.
He hears ragged breaths, muffled sobs in return.
“It’s okay Timmy, I’m here. I’m here.” He presses his head right above the lock, trying to crack it, but with Tim’s sobs it’ll be impossible to hear the lock click.
“Mother fucker.” He swears, he looks around, maybe he can find a janitor with the keys... but that’ll take him away from Tim. Could he call B now? He’ll surely show up and rain hellfire before and after Tim is rescued. But how long will that take?
“Todd!” The principal is marching his way down, Paul at his side, and the school officer on the other. “Stop right there!”
“Tim’s in here!” He screams instead. “Get the Janitor so he can open it up!”
“You are in no position to make demands, young man. You assaulted three of your classmates!”
“Those classmates shoved my little brother into a fucking locker!”
They’re approaching quickly, he even sees the officer pull out his cuffs. Not good. Not good. He turns back to the locker, “I’m getting you out, Timmy.” He backs up, aims, and brings his foot down on the lock. It rattles the entire wall of lockers, the others are yelling at him to stop. He brings it down again, and again, and finally on the fourth kick the lock breaks and he tears open the locker.
“I’m here, Timmy.” He kneels down and pulls the boy out, cradling him close. Tim is sobbing, his hands are at his hair, already having pulled some out of his head.
“Hands behind your back, Todd.” The officer orders, Jason only snarls in response.
“Look at what they fucking did to him! You expect me to let go of him?!”
The Principal steps forward, “We’ll deal with them later, just like we’ll deal with you-”
“It was self defense!”
“On what grounds?”
Jason finally tilts his chin up, “I’m not saying another fucking word until I can call my dad.” That finally stops the two adults, it’s as good as a suspect demanding a lawyer. You can’t mess with kids without their parents present.
Principal Westfield looks murderous as he grinds out, “Very well. You can do so in my office.”
The officer at least offers to help carry Tim, but Jason only bats his hand away and cradles the boy close to him.
The walk to the office is long, no one says a word, when he enters the other two boys are sitting with bruised faces and glaring eyes.
“I’ve already called my father!” Jameson spits out. “He’ll see you expelled, Todd!”
“We’ll see, fuck head.” Jason spits back as he sits at the chair and pulls the corded phone close to him.
He dials the numbers, his other arm has not let go of Tim as he’s rested in his lap.
“Bruce Wayne.” Jason won’t admit how relieving it is to hear his dads voice on the other end.
“Dad, it's Jason.” He continues before B can begin questioning. “You need to come to the school. Tim was shoved into a locker by three upperclassmen.”
“He was what.” He’s never heard the Batman voice used in daylight like this, it honestly sent chills down his spine.
“Yeah. He called me before his phone died, I managed to find the boys and got them to tell me where he was. They’re saying my beating the shit out of them didn’t qualify as ‘self-defense.’”
Bruce is quiet on the other end for a moment, Jason was honestly worried he’d forgotten to speak until he orders. “Don’t say anything else. Stay with Tim. I’ll be there soon as I can.”
“Will do, pops.” He hangs up the phone and leans back, his grin is wide. “He’ll be here soon.”
“Don’t act so smart, Todd.” Principal Westfield sneers. “You assaulted three students, cut and dry. Go and sit down in the waiting room.” Jason does as he’s told, never letting go of Tim for a second.
Day Three Hundred and Thirty Nine
The nurse came to check on the boys, putting a splint on Jameson’s arm, giving Damon and Paul some ice, and a few bandaids for some open wounds. She tries to check on Tim, but he only curls deeper into Jason, so she leaves a bottle of water and some snacks.
The parents of the boys walk in at minute twenty two, apparently a coordinated attack. All the fathers, two mothers, and one even brought their lawyer. They glare at Todd like he is the Joker himself, and he glares right back at them.
“I want that boy expelled and in prison!” One of the fathers demands, “Beating up our boys like that.”
“Your boys assaulted my little brother!” Jason hollers back.
“Principle Westfield,” One of the mothers sniffs haughtily. “Surely you can get those expelled papers ready now, we won’t need to wait for his father for such a thing.”
“I’m not doing anything until everyone's guardians are present,” Westfield calms the crowd. “But repercussions will be had, from both sides.”
“Very well.” She delicately sits beside her son, cooing at his wounds, Jason rolls his eyes hard enough to hurt.
At minute thirty eight the doors open and in walks Bruce Wayne in his full office attire. Doctor Thompson is beside him, with a crew of lawyers at his back.
Jason even sees Dick in the back, how fast did he drive to get here?!
The first thing Bruce does is kneel before the two boys, his eyes are pained, a large hand coming to cradle Tim’s as he stares with large panicked eyes. “You’re okay, chum. Everything is going to be fine.” His reassurance is to both boys, despite only looking at Tim. “We have Doc Thompson here to take a look at you both, okay?”
“I’m fine dad,” Jason tries to deny, but the older man only rests a hand on his knee.
“It’ll make me feel better knowing you aren’t hurt, chum.” He doesn’t move until he gets a nod from both boys, then he’s standing and turning towards the principal.
“This is my family Doctor, Doctor Thompson. I would like her to look over my boys in your nurse’s office with her equipment.”
Westfield clearly doesn’t like the idea. “I would like both boys here to give their testimonies-”
“That will be unnecessary,” Bruce’s voice is cold. “We will simply look at the tapes, I was promised this school was outfitted with top of the line security in all of its hallways?”
Westfield blanches, “Y-Yes of course. We’ll have the nurse lead the way.”
“Good, Dick why don’t you go with them.” The eldest son finally reveals himself, a smile and a little salute he helps the two stand, this time he’s the one to carry Tim as they walk through the halls.
Day Three Hundred and Thirty Nine
Tim doesn’t remember much after the locker opening, he remembers seeing Jason’s face in the light, he remembers the overwhelming sense of relief, the falling into his arms, and then... it’s a bit of a blur.
He knew he was carried, strong arms holding him and never faltering for even the slightest moment. He thinks he remembers a stranger trying to touch him, but they never succeeded. Then he remembers hearing Bruce, seeing him kneel before him with his smile. He was talking softly, like he did when Tim first came into his life. He thinks Bruce was asking something, he nodded because he knew Bruce would always protect him.
Then he was being carried by Dick, he was just as unfaltering in his hold, hushing him and reminding him that he was safe.
He came back to when Doctor Thompson placed a cold rag around his neck, his eyes blinking as he finally took in his surroundings of the nurses office.
“Back with us, Tim?” She asks after a little bit, and he’s able to nod confidently. “Okay, I’m going to ask some questions, is that alright?” He nods again, and this time he’s able to find his voice and answer vocally.
“Yes.”
“That’s great Tim, this won’t take long.” She sits down and begins, questions he’s used to answering plus some new ones, he’s given a glass of water and some crackers after a little bit.
Thompson feels around his head a little bit, checking for any bumps, then his arms where some bruises were beginning to form.
After she declared him not seriously injured he relaxes back into Dicks chest, who wraps a strong arm around him.
Ten minutes later Bruce is walking through the doors, his smile is back. “You boys alright?”
“They’re fine, Bruce.” Thompson answers for them. “Couple bruises, nothing more. I would like Tim to schedule an extra appointment with his therapist soon, though.”
“We’ll do that as soon as we’re home.” He sits at the edge of the patient bed, the plastic crinkling under his weight.
“Well?” Jason asks, eyebrow raised.
“Full expulsion for Jameson Herd, Damon Fuentes, and Paul Reynolds.”
“Good.” Jason spits out.
“And you’re suspended for three days.”
“Aw what?!”
“We decided that breaking Jameson's arm was not necessarily self defense, but also not expulsion material.”
“Pfft, whatever. I’d do it again.”
Bruce messes with Jason’s hair before turning his attention to Tim, his eyes darken in worry. “What about you, Chum? How are you?”
Tim shrugs, “‘M okay... just wanna go home.”
“We will buddy. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He sighs, Tim sees for the first time age seep into the form of lines on his face, and all he can think of is that it’s his fault for causing such a mess of everything.
“I’m sorry.” Tim blurts out, “If I’d just stayed in the gym then-”
“Absolutely not,” All three of them declare in unison, stopping Tim cold.
Bruce takes Tim's hands in his, “Tim nothing what happened today was your fault, those boys chose to do those heinous things to you. You are one hundred percent the victim.”
“But... I made you leave work early.”
“I’m a dad, chum.” Bruce corrects, “Nothing will ever be more important than my family. Okay?” And Tim nods, because Bruce says it with such conviction that he can’t do anything but agree to it.
“Good. Now why don’t we head home, Alfred is cooking up your favorite.”
“Can we get chili dogs on the way?” Jason hops off the bed with a grin.
Bruce stands, then Dick, still holding Tim close. “If you want to face Alfred's wrath for ruining your appetite, go ahead.”
Jason pales, “Nah. Think I’m good.”
Tim smiles, family will always be the most important thing.