Chapter Text
Tim was about to get a great snapshot of Robin doing a quadruple flip (totally unnecessary, but also totally cool) when he leaned a little too far and felt himself slipping on a smog-wet slate, high above the unforgiving Gotham asphalt.
He didn’t have time to think more than, “oh, NO”, before something grabbed him and pulled him back to safety.
Not something. Someone. A strong slim hand held his arm. “Robin, thank…” Tim turned. “Oh, you’re not Robin.” He looked at the little girl who’d just saved… well, maybe not his LIFE, he might have caught a fire escape, or landed in a dumpster conveniently full of bubble wrap… no, face it, he would have Gone Splat.
“Thank you,” he said. The girl was smaller than Tim, really small, like starved thin and dressed (if you could call it that) in rags. She had dark hair and eyes set in a solemn little face. She let go of Tim and just stood there, looking at him, as if she was analyzing him.
Tim looked back, analyzing her in return. He belatedly remembered his manners. “Hello, my name is Timothy Drake. I’m very pleased to meet you.” He waited with his hand held out.
She looked puzzled. She touched his hand and then patted him on the arm.
“What’s your name?”
She tilted her head, and didn’t say anything.
“Can you talk?” Nothing. “Do you know sign language?” Tim had just started to learn ASL, because he had seen Robin using it to comfort a mugging victim who hadn’t heard the mugger tell him to give up his wallet. Tim only knew that much because Robin repeated it aloud for the police.
She looked at his hands as he awkwardly spelled, and her face creased as if she was trying to figure something out.
“Are you hungry?” Tim put his backpack down and rummaged. “I’ve got applesauce pouches, and dried papaya, turkey jerky, trail mix, and a chocolate chip energy bar.” Tim piled one of everything in front of her. He usually put his leftovers in front of one of the places street kids sleep, which is why he carried so much.
She looked down at the food, and then up at him, and smiled. Tim smiled back, and watched as she ate. A brilliant idea struck him.
“Would you like to come home with me? It’s a big empty house, with lots of food, and it’s warm. You wouldn’t have to be alone any more, and neither would I.” He held out his hand again.
She tilted her head again, looked at him, all over, not just his face. She smiled brightly and took his hand.
“I always wanted a sister,” Tim said. “A brother would be nice, too, but girls are just as good. Better!” Tim said when he thought he saw her start to frown.
Tim’s new sister was brilliant. She didn’t know how to read, or to talk, but she understood everything. They figured out how to turn one of Tim’s mother’s silk blouses into a dress for her, and she let Tim brush her hair, and paint her fingernails, and show her how to brush her teeth. She didn’t really like shoes, but when Tim showed her photos of all sorts, she pointed at ballet shoes, so Tim ordered them for her in all the colors.Then he went just a little crazy internet shopping to give her a complete wardrobe, and all the toys that said they’d be good for someone learning to read.
Tim was so happy having someone to spoil, and to hug. She was startled the first time Tim hugged her, but then she melted into his arms, and they hugged often, starting every day when they woke up (she slept on a pile of quilts on his bedroom floor- he’d tried giving her a guest room, but she didn’t like beds and she didn’t like being away from Tim.)
By the time Mrs. Mac showed up a few days later for her weekly grocery, meals to freeze, and brisk dust ‘round, Tim’s new sister looked like she belonged.
“This is my sister, Cassandra,” Tim told the housekeeper. (He’d decided Cassandra was a good name, because that was a woman no one listened to, and Cassie didn’t talk.) “She’s just been adopted, and she’s shy.”
Mrs. Mac looked Cassie up and down, and then shrugged. “I’ll leave twice as many meals, if I get paid for them.”
Tim nodded. He’d already increased the grocery budget and raised Mrs. Mac’s salary. ‘Do not bind the mouths of the kine that tread the grain’, Tim’s mother had said when arguing about his father’s suggestion to lower the pay of the Drake Industries factory workers. She got it from the Bible, she later told Tim when he asked her what ‘kine’ were. A fancy name for cows, but she didn’t explain why you’d want cows walking on grain, because she was busy.
Tim took it to mean, ‘pay well and people won’t complain if you ask them to do a little extra with their jobs’.
Tim worked hard to teach Cassie how to behave like a snooty society kid. She didn’t take it seriously until he explained that going to galas was their job, as Drakes.
When the Drakes returned from their latest expedition… Tim had stopped caring if they ever returned, because he was busy with Cassie, who turned out to be AWESOME at following Batman and Robin. She noticed everything, and kept them hidden even better than Tim did. And also, when needed, she could kick ass.
But eventually his parents came back, because there was a gala and they needed publicity or whatever. Tim was prepared.
The Drakes got out of the taxi, looking tired. “Hello,” Tim chirped, as he and Cassie began carrying the bags into the manor. “Are you tired? Was it a difficult flight?”
Janet muttered something about turbulence. Then she looked at Cassie. “Timothy. Who is your little friend?”
Tim gave her a reproachful look. “Mother. Please. You know that Cassandra is my sister. Don’t you remember?” He looked at his father, who had a rather glazed expression, probably caused by too many first-class miniature bottles of booze.
“Dad,” Tim said. “Six months ago. The gala,” Tim prompted.
“What gala?” Jack asked.
“The one where everyone was sucking up to Bruce Wayne and his ward? The one where someone spiked the punch with…” Tim flipped his hands up in the universal ‘Gotham, what else' gesture, “and everyone was talking about families, and you said you could do better than Wayne?”
Jack nodded, vaguely. “Well, I could.”
Tim nodded agreeably. “And then mother said the optics would be better if you adopted a really disadvantaged child, not just a circus orphan. Only she wanted a girl, since you already have a son.”
Janet looked at Cassie, who was dressed beautifully in silk, with matching ballet slippers, and a cute pink butterfly barrette in her neatly combed hair. Her nail polish was a demure pink, and her smile, bright and shy.
Tim could almost see the calculations going on behind Janet’s eyes. He said, “Cassie came from overseas, on special order. She doesn’t talk, but she understands everything. She’s got no relatives to make claims on us. And she can dance!”
Cassie took her cue and performed a perfect arabesque.
Janet nodded. “The punch must have been very strong. I don’t remember it,” she admitted. “But it only shows even my subconscious makes excellent decisions.” She yawned. “Welcome to the family, Cassandra.”
Jack just nodded. He was half asleep as well. “Yes, welcome.”
Tim grinned at Cassie as they followed their parents into the house. Cassie gave him a ’thumbs up’ and a matching grin.