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batfsm · 2 years ago

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@batfam-chaos, Here you go. Putting it in three parts because it's so long.

birds fly in every direction by distracted_dragon Thoughts, Part 1:

Chapter 1)

I'm loving Tim's POV. It's so refreshing in a way. I wonder what made him use Jeffery Anderson as his pseudonym. Of course Tim would make up accounts to get his ideas out there. Of course he would.

^^ The most eye-catching thing in the alley, however, is the motionless black-clad figure sprawled atop a dumpster. Emblazoned across their chest is an achingly familiar blue bird.

Nightwing.

At the other end of the alley, three other people exchange looks and slowly approach the dumpster. Their faces are all unfamiliar, but Tim catches the glint of a gun in the hands of the person in the middle. From what he can tell, their clothes don’t look outrageously expensive. The man on the right has a tattoo on his forearm that looks vaguely like something that he’s seen on a few of Maroni’s men, but it’s hard to tell. Just to be safe, he quietly pulls his camera out from his backpack and takes a picture. He takes care to lay on his stomach, pressing himself as close to the rooftop as possible to keep out of sight.^^

Why is it always Dick Tim seems to find? Like, Jason saves Tim a lot but Dick? Tim always seems to find him in trouble. Or just getting out of trouble.

^^ Luckily, they don’t seem to notice the glint of his camera lens. Tim leans back and pushes his backpack away from the edge of the roof. It nearly knocks over a couple of empty beer bottles, but Tim manages to still them before they could make any noise.

(Was someone drinking on a rooftop? That seems irresponsible.)^^

You mean like you being on the rooftop which isn't yours, Timothy?

^^ His landing isn’t the best but he doesn’t break his camera or twist an ankle or anything, so Tim counts it as a win. He creeps towards the dumpster where Nightwing is lying and sighs in relief when he sees the rise and fall of the vigilante’s chest. Good, he isn’t dead. The two holes in the side of his suit don’t look good, though. Neither does the slowly spreading pool of blood that’s dampening the garbage around him.

“Um, hi” He begins and awkwardly tugs his hood down. Hopefully, it’ll cover his face enough to keep him from being recognized, either by Nightwing or whatever cameras are likely embedded in his suit. Taking care to warp his words into a thick Gotham accent, he adds, “I’m here to help. Are you awake?”

Nightwing grunts.

“Okay, that’s probably a good thing. Uh. Did you already call for help?”

Another grunt. This one sounds vaguely affirmative.

“Good, great,” he says, nodding. At least he doesn’t have to figure out a way to get Nightwing back to the rest of the Bats. “I don’t exactly know a lot about taking care of bullet wounds and I’d rather not get electrocuted by your suit while trying to stop the bleeding, so… I guess I’m going to go?”

Nightwing’s arms twitch and he weakly tries to push himself up, groaning.

“I don’t know if moving is a good idea,” Tim tries, but Nightwing only grunts in response.

Halfway through, he seems to give up and lays back down. The white-out lenses in his suit prevent Tim from seeing exactly where he’s looking, but something tells Tim that Nightwing’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay until I see that Batman or Robin has come to get you. I’ll stay out of sight, though.” Tim turns and starts to walk towards the other building’s remaining fire escape before he hesitates. He looks over his shoulder and surely enough, Nightwing is still looking straight at him. “Um. Sorry that I couldn’t help more. You do good work,” he offers meekly before turning tail and scurrying up the fire escape. His camera swings about, bumping against his chest with every step.

Heart pounding, Tim flattens himself against the roof and settles in to wait for the cavalry to arrive. He just met Nightwing. Nightwing! He also probably sounded like a complete idiot and he really hopes that Nightwing didn’t realize how young he is. Shadows can hide a lot and he tried to make his voice sound deeper than it actually is, but there’s only so much that he can do.

He clutches his camera protectively and tries to even out his breathing. If he could see his hands, he’d bet that his knuckles are white. Soon enough, the telltale rumble of the Batmobile roars in the distance and Tim sighs in relief.^^

Really Tim? Baby boy, this is going to come back to bite you I don't doubt.

^^ Monday rolls around, ushering in yet another week of school. Tim has a history quiz that he forgets about until fifteen minutes before class. He spends the last part of his English class skimming through his history notes. All things considered, the quiz goes okay. Still, Tim is all too eager to leave class and head to the library for lunch. He nearly misses seeing Jason Todd-- Batman’s current Robin-- as they pass each other in the hallway.

Jason has dark circles under his eyes and his mouth is set in a grim line. He doesn’t seem to notice Tim as they walk by each other, but that’s unsurprising. It’s unlikely that Jason even realizes that Tim exists.

The mass of students swarming towards the cafeteria whisks Jason away. In the blink of an eye, he’s gone.^^

Jason was probably up all weekend helping to look for you, Tim. You really think Jason won't notice you? He might not recognize people but he is trained by Bruce...

^^ Tim thinks of the two bullet holes in Nightwing’s torso, of the concern soaking Batman’s voice as he called out for his son. He thinks of the grim weariness on Jason’s face. He thinks of the photographs buried deep in his closet of Robin and Nightwing grinning as they shout jokes to each other, of Batman smiling and shaking his head at their antics. Of Batman standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, of the stars bleeding into his silhouette.

He hits save on the document and closes it. Writing about attacks so soon after his encounter with Nightwing seems like it would be asking for trouble.

His knees crack when he stands up to get ready for his usual night out on the town. With one of the Bats injured, he’ll need to step up his surveillance game until Nightwing is back in commission. After all, there’s work to be done.^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. I'm glad you have enough sense not to post yet but I got a feeling you'll be looked into even more than you probably are sooner than later.

Chapter 2)

You know I hate how easy it is to say Jack and Janet are bad parents. But canon wise they were very neglectful and left Tim alone alot. Yes, he went to boarding school but still...it doesn't help when fanon writes them because of how they were in canon. Sometimes love isn't enough.

^^ His phone had stopped ringing a few moments ago, but it starts up again rather quickly. Is it an emergency? Did someone die? Images of hospitals and potential accidents race through his head as Tim accepts the call and holds his phone up to his ear. “Dad? Is everything okay?” He tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Without preamble, his dad says, “Some of our colleagues have been asking what you’re up to.” There’s an edge of a grumble in his voice. He’s probably upset that he had to wait so long for Tim to pick up the phone.

“Well, I’m in school right now--” Tim begins, but his dad cuts him off.

“Timothy,” his father says curtly. Tim’s blood freezes as ice fills his veins. “I mean college. You need to start bulking up your resume. It’ll look good on college applications and reflect well on us. Your mother and I have emailed you a list of clubs to choose from. Let us know what you’ve decided by the end of the week.”

He leans back against the cold concrete wall and drums his fingers on the grooves between the cinder blocks. “Okay. Thank you.”

His dad grunts. “Oh, and next time? Pick up the damn phone. It’s getting late over here and I don’t want to waste time listening to the phone ringing while I wait for you to pick up.”

“Right,” Tim says. “Sorry, Dad. I was in class.”

“Are you telling me that you’re supposed to be in class right now?” his dad demands. “What are you doing, then? Go back to class! We can’t afford to let your grades slip.”

“I’ll go back right now. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.”

The call clicks as his dad hangs up. Tim stares at the words “call ended” blinking at him from his phone before he shoves it back into his pocket and heads back to class. His back is still cold from the cool concrete wall, but Tim ignores the feeling as he slips back into his seat.^^

Stupid Jack. Getting pissed Tim won't answer you and then getting mad he's not in class. Make up your damn mind!

Book Club! That means Jason! Yes!

^^ Tim shuffles over and obediently sits in the chair to Jason’s left. He shrugs his backpack off and gently dumps on the floor. “Yeah, I’m a freshman.”

Jason scratches at his chin. “Huh, weird. Your face is kinda familiar. What’s your name?”

“I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door to you,” he explains, resisting the urge to kick his feet like a child.

His eyes widen. “Oh, so you’re the Drake’s kid! Well, welcome to book club. By the way, do you like being called Timothy?”

Tim picks at the hem of his sleeve as he considers the question. “Tim is fine,” he decides. “Or you can call me Timothy. I don’t really mind.”^^

See, Jason knows you. He just doesn't 'know, know' you. At least not yet.

^^ think the younger son did it,” Tim says abruptly. A few heads turn to look at him. “The book mentioned that he used to help his mother with making fertilizer, but it didn’t say anything about using natural fertilizers. That means that he likely has experience in dealing with various chemicals. He could’ve laced her tea with something.”

One of the other students frowns contemplatively. “But why would Jerome kill his mother? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t think that he meant to kill his mother. I think he wanted to kill his older brother so he could take over his general store. His brother had a fancy kettle in his kitchen, but the other appliances were run down. Why would he have a nice kettle if he didn’t like tea?” Tim picks at his jacket’s sleeve. “So Jerome set a trap. He laced some nice Darjeeling with something poisonous and left it in the kitchen right before his brother was supposed to arrive. It would be the perfect trap if his brother wasn’t late, allowing Mrs. Bigby to accidentally drink the poisoned tea first.”

“Don’t spoil it!” someone hisses.

Tim looks up. “I, um, was just guessing. I haven’t read the book before. Did I guess correctly?”^^

Go Tim! You are an awesome detective and you think as fast, if not faster than Bruce. (Which is so not helping my headcanon that Tim is Bruce's biological son.)

^^ This time, it takes Tim thirty-one pages to guess the murderer. Although it technically took him longer to guess correctly than with the first book, the delighted look on Jason’s face makes up for it.^^

I would be delighted also. Well after I got over not figuring it out myself and that someone did guess as we read the book.

^^ Bruce has first editions of Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game and a complete collection of the works of Kartik Mishra. Have you read either of them?”^^

I looked both of them up because of this and got a bit confused because they had another book for Meredith and a lot of people named Kartik Mishra came up on the results. I'll have to try again later on.

^^ Something doesn’t feel right. Why is Jason so interested in him? He didn’t think that he revealed anything particularly noteworthy about himself aside from his newfound ability to guess the ending of mystery novels. His mention of Kartik Mishra was far too obscure to connect him to Jeffrey Anderson, who had only cited Mishra’s work twice, so that couldn’t be it.

Tim pulls on his helmet and kicks his bike into motion with one foot. He’ll have to investigate this matter further.^^

You Tim. You pulled up on Jason's radar, before this probably, Andi won't be surprised if they figure you out because of your voice.

Yeah! Tim gets to meet his grandfather and dad tomorrow! Officially!

Chapter 3)

^^ Obediently, Tim trails Jason over to the car. A somewhat pale, balding man steps out of the driver’s side door and nods at them in greeting. He’s wearing a well-tailored black blazer and dress slacks. “Good afternoon Master Jason, Master Timothy. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Bruce’s butler.” He opens the door to the back seat of the car.

“He’s also the main thing keeping Bruce from accidentally burning down the house when he tries to cook,” Jason adds cheerily as he slides into the back seat.^^

I love this introduction. I love how Jason just disses on Bruce. It's so him.

^^ “So, Master Timothy. Do you have any allergies? I was planning on making cookies for you boys, but I would like to make sure that I don’t accidentally poison you.” The car turns onto the main road and Alfred meets Tim’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

His eyes are dark brown and lined with wrinkles. They look like the eyes of any normal human, and yet. It’s so subtle that Tim almost misses it, but something about the way that Alfred Pennyworth looks at Tim makes him feel like he’s able to see the storms lurking beneath Tim’s skin.

He knows. Nobody whose eyes can see that much would be able to work closely with Bruce Wayne and not realize that he’s Batman.

A gentle nudge interrupts Tim's train of thought. He glances over and finds Jason leaning back into his seat. Right, Alfred had asked him a question.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second. I’m not allergic to anything,” Tim replies hastily.

Unfazed, Alfred turns the car onto the familiar winding road that contains both Drake Manor and Wayne Manor. “All right. And do you have a favorite type of cookie?”

He shrugs. “I’ll eat just about anything. I’m not very picky.”

“I didn’t ask what you would eat, Master Tim. I asked if you had a favorite type of cookie,” Alfred corrects smoothly. “The kitchen is well-stocked, so I can assure you that we certainly have the ingredients for whichever type of cookie you choose.”

Tim falls silent, chewing his lip contemplatively. Choosing a type of cookie is a lot of responsibility. What if Jason doesn’t like it? What if nobody else in Wayne Manor likes it but they have to awkwardly pretend that they do to avoid hurting Tim’s feelings?

“You really can’t go wrong with Alfred’s cooking. His cookies are the best,” Jason interjects. “If you want recommendations, his chocolate chip cookies are great. He makes some mean snickerdoodles and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies too.”

“Chocolate chip sounds good,” Tim decides at last. “Thank you,” he adds quickly.^^

Of course Alfred knows. Alfred, fanon Alfred, knows all.

Tim, don't worry. Alfred's used to Bruce, Dick, and Jason spacing out so you're fine.

Okay, can I eat one of Alfred's cookies? Or his food? Please.

^^ “By the way,” Jason drawls, drawing Tim’s attention back to him, “Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

The car pulls in front of the main entrance of Wayne Manor. Like before, Alfred gets out of the car to open the car door for Tim and Jason.

“Thank you very much for driving us, Alfred,” Tim tells him as he straightens up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Master Timothy,” Alfred replies before he climbs back into the car and drives off.

Instead of answering Tim’s question, Jason walks up and opens the front doors. A very excited German Shepherd darts out, bouncing in place as Jason leans over to run his hands down its sides.

“This is Ace. He’s about six years old and he is a very good boy,” Jason informs him solemnly. “Want to pet him?”

Tim nods and carefully approaches Ace, extending one hand for him to sniff. After a moment, Ace shoves his wet nose into Tim’s hand and gives it a satisfied lick. Taking this as acceptance of his presence, Tim scratches behind Ace’s ears. His tail wags slowly at first but quickly speeds up, especially once Tim starts scratching his chin with his other hand.

“You’re right,” Tim says, looking up at Jason. “He’s a very good boy.”^^

Did Alfred drive to the garage? Why not just go to the garage and then everyone gets out at the same time without wasting gas?

Ace! Ace! Ace! I love Ace! He's such a good boy and he knows Tim is not a bad person do he's extra good.

^^ “All right,” Tim agrees. His school uniform is covered in dog fur, which would normally drive his mother mad, but Tim finds that it doesn’t really bother him.^^

It shouldn't. It just means you got loved a whole lot.

^^ “Dad’s study’s this way,” Jason says, turning back to look at Tim. “That’s where he keeps all of his--”

“Hey, whatcha doing?” A door directly across from them slams open and someone with bright blue eyes, warm brown skin, and a blinding smile bursts out. Their face is oddly familiar. Tim must have seen them before somewhere--

Oh, that’s Nightwing without his mask. Or rather, that’s Richard Grayson, Bruce’s eldest son.

“Jay, you have a friend over?” He tilts his head curiously, peering at Tim. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Tim forces himself to unfreeze, though the sound of the slamming door still echoes through his head. Pasting a smile on his face, he extends one hand to Richard to shake. “Hi, I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door.”

“I’m Dick Grayson,” says Dick, smiling as he smoothly steps forward to shake Tim’s hand. He steps back and nudges the door closed with a soft click, much quieter than his explosive entrance. “So, what are you planning on doing?”

Jason rolls his eyes and turns to Tim. “Dick’s bored out of his mind. He has this nasty cut on his side that he got from falling asleep on a stapler. He just fell straight onto it like--”

With all of the grace of a professionally trained acrobat, Dick darts forward and lovingly gives Jason a noogie. Tim just stands there and blinks, unsure of what to do. Ace pads up to Tim and shoves his head into Tim’s hand, so he obligingly pats Ace’s head.

“Hey!” Jason protests, squirming in his brother’s grip. He does not, Tim notes, try to elbow him or use any of the combat moves that Tim knows he’s capable of.

It’s likely to protect Nightwing’s stitches, Tim notes absently. The man’s wounds weren’t one hundred percent life-threatening, but they were certainly serious. Reopening those wounds would not be a fun experience.

After one final noogie, Dick releases Jason and ruffles his hair. “In my defense, I didn’t fall asleep on a stapler. There may have been some sneaking out and alcohol involved, though.” He winks at Tim.

“He fell on a vase when he was sneaking back in,” Jason sighs. “I don’t know how, but he managed to shatter it in such a way that it stabbed him. Truly astonishing.”

Dick only grinned. “Don’t hate me because you ain’t me,” he sing-songs.^^

I should have realized Dick would be home.

Really? That's your excuse boys? Alfred signed off on that excuse? LoL it's do flimsy I'm surprised people believe it.

^^ The thought of spending time with Nightwing is a little bit terrifying but, at the same time, very cool. Tim nods and Dick beams, clapping his hands together.

“Great! Come on, I’ll show you where they are.” Despite his still-healing injury, Dick practically bounces down the hallway.

Jason and Tim follow him, albeit at a much calmer pace. Dick stops in front of a set of intimidating wooden double doors and pushes them open, revealing what must be Bruce Wayne’s study. Without skipping a beat, Dick makes a beeline for the towering bookshelves at the far end of the room.^^

You are not helping your excuse at all by acting like that Dick. Not at all.

^^ Jason snorts and turns to Tim. “Dick is a theater kid at heart. He does do some pretty good voices, if you’re fine with him crashing our hangout.”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’m fine if Dick reads.”

“Okay!” Dick chirps and leans back into the couch. Jason wastes no time in wriggling closer to Dick and leaning his head on his big brother’s shoulder as Dick opens Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game. It’s clearly well-loved-- the spine is cracked and some of the pages are dog-eared. Tim thinks of the pristine books in his parents’ office with rigid spines and unmarred pages. Most of the things in their office are too old or delicate for him to touch; he’s only allowed to handle whatever paperwork they ask him to fetch. Envious, he imagines running his hands over the pages of his mother’s copies of excavation reports before he quickly banishes the thought. Their rules exist for a reason.

As it turns out, Jason was right about Dick’s acting abilities. He does a different voice for each character and makes exaggerated faces as he speaks. Jason occasionally chimes in with commentary, but Tim mostly stays quiet and absorbs Dick’s telling of the story.^^

Dick's going to read! I have a couple of books like that I'll admit but I try to read them all. Even if it's only once.

I be absorbed by Dick reading also. In my head, they all have lovely voices.

^^ Forty pages in, Tim is getting restless. He’s been maintaining good posture for most of the reading, but his back is starting to hurt. Also, he’s pretty sure that he knows who the killer is, but it’s hard to tell if Dick will get mad at him if he voices his guess. “Am I allowed to guess the murderer?”

Jason looks over at Tim and snorts. “I brought you here to unleash you on a bunch of mystery books, remember?” He lightly boops Tim’s nose. Mystified, Tim nearly crosses his eyes trying to follow Jason’s finger. “Yeah, you’re allowed to guess the murderer. Who d’you think did it?”

Mollified, Tim picks at the edge of his sleeve as he thinks. “Probably Tom Harbott. If Casey Rogerson died, then his house would become public property and be dealt with by the state. When Harbott is cataloguing the worth of the house, then he could easily take a few items-- some of Casey’s jewels, maybe-- and nobody would know that they were missing. Plus, Harbott strikes me as kind of slimy.”

Both of the Wayne boys turn to look at him, but Tim stares at his hands instead of meeting their eyes. “I could be wrong, though. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“Jay’s right,” Dick says after a moment. “You are really good at this. Nice work, Tim!”^^

He's so amazing and smart and his brothers are going to tell him that a lot. He's also a mini Bruce in detective mode. I thought Jason was like Bruce a whole lot but Tim probably beats all his siblings in being like their dad the most.

^^ Tim takes a cookie and settles back against the couch as he nibbles at it. It’s very fucking good. He’s careful to keep crumbs from getting all over Bruce’s couch-- he wouldn’t want Jason and Dick to be on the receiving end of Bruce’s wrath if he comes home and finds his couch covered in crumbs.

Cookie in one hand, Dick picks up the story where he left off. Tim is content to sit with his hands clasped in his lap and lean back into the cushions while Jason wastes no time in using Dick’s shoulder as his own personal pillow. The floor behind them creaks as someone walks across it. Tensing, Tim immediately stops slouching.

“Hey, Bruce!” Dick calls, twisting around to beam at the man himself.

Bruce Wayne. Batman. The person who Tim has been following and surreptitiously photographing for the past few years.

The Batman suit must have platforms in it because the man before him is ever so slightly shorter than Tim expected. Granted, he’s definitely still over six feet tall, but something about the Batman suit makes him look bigger. More intimidating. Right now, Bruce is wearing a rumpled suit and has a five o’clock shadow.^^

Tim, Bruce isn't going to care. Ace probably jumps on the furniture and gets his fur everywhere so why should Bruce, Alfred really, care if you get crumbs on the furniture? People do all the time! I bet Bruce does!

Damn, Tim was just getting comfortable. He's got good instincts though. I never thought of Bruce using platforms but it makes sense. Throws people off that way.

^^ “Tim and I are in the book club together. It turns out that he’s scary good at guessing the murderer in mystery novels, so I bribed him into coming over with some of your old books,” Jason informs him, leaning back into the couch.

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like fun. What did you read?”

“The first book in The Finding Game. Tim figured out the murderer in forty pages,” Jason replies proudly.

“Damn, that’s pretty good,” he whistles and shakes his head before he smiles at Tim. “The first time I read it, it took me twice that to figure it out. Good job, Tim. So, how are you doing? I hope that my sons haven’t been giving you too much trouble.”^^

Bruce tossing Dick out makes me laugh when he stays himself. Bruce is so proud of Tim for figuring out the mystery. Oh my gosh Bruce. You are as bad as Dick. Then again, they get it from you.

^^ “Bunch of privileged ass kids who’ve never experienced a single hardship in their lives,” Jason grumbles.

His words elicit a chuckle from Bruce. Tim reaches down and pats Ace’s head.

After a moment, Bruce’s attention switches back to Tim. “So, Tim,” he begins, “Do you think that your family would object to you staying for dinner? Alfred’s making lasagna. Or we can give you a ride home if you need one.”

Jason twists so he can nudge Tim’s leg with his foot. “You should have dinner with us, Alfred’s cooking is amazing.”

He really doesn’t want to impose, but since he’s been invited and Jason seems to want him there… “My parents are out of town right now, so they won’t mind.” Tim shrugs, smiling. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Jason flops back into the couch and pokes Tim with one foot. “Just don’t forget to text someone so your family doesn’t assume that you’ve been kidnapped or something,” he says around a mouthful of cookie.

“Will do,” Tim replies and shoves the remainder of his cookie into his mouth. ^^

Poor Tim. Jason's basically insulting Tim to his face. Well not him but I bet Tim took it that way.

Tim, really? You didn't text anyone...big red flag. Especially for Batman and his sons.

I love the dinner. Tim fits right in. Of course Bruce wanted Tim to walk home with Jason. They are worried and Tim speaking about how only Mrs. Mac comes around and his parents are gone is going to raise more red flags. I'm glad Tim has the rest of the family's numbers. I just hope he uses more than Jason's and Dick's.

Chapter 4)

^^ On Monday, Tim steps into the debate team’s assigned classroom during his lunch period. Multiple heads swivel to stare at him and Tim slips on his best polite smile.

“Ah, hello there!” A blond-haired boy hops off the desk he was perched on at the front of the classroom. “If you’re here for the debate team, then you’re in the right place.”

“Good to hear,” Tim replies and sticks out his hand as the other student approaches him. “I’mTim Drake.”

They shake hands. “I’m Patrick Weston. You’re the Tim Drake of Drake Industries, right?”

“That’s right.” Maintaining his polite smile hurts Tim’s face.

Patrick grins and claps Tim on his back, forcing him to hide his flinch. “Fantastic! You’ll be a great addition to the team. Come over here and I’ll introduce you to everyone. That’s Abigail Mercer of Mercer Incorporated…”

He proceeds to introduce him to several students who Tim has known since kindergarten on account of them running in the same social circles. In short, they’re all a bunch of rich brats.

“So, what kinds of cars do your parents have?” asks Hunter Smith of the Smith Corporation.

Rich, pretentious brats.

Tim does not like debate team.^^

The debate team sounds like they don't even debate anyone. Just gossip. That sucks. Poor Tim. At least he only has to deal with them twice a week.

Tim beating Jason at Super Smash Bros makes me laugh along with Alfred hearing Jason and Dick curse. Why is Dick hanging out with these two? He's off work right now because of his injury but doesn't he have the Titans to hang out with? Not that Tim probably minds....I wouldn't.

^^ Tim tries to spend a handful of hours every night keeping an eye on the Escabedo Cartel’s warehouses. Between homework, gymnastics classes, martial arts classes, working on his latest Jeffrey Anderson draft, and hanging out with Jason and Dick, he doesn’t make it out to Gotham every single night.

As far as he can tell, nothing out of the ordinary has happened at the row of the Escabedo’s warehouses on Seventh Street. Still, something in his gut nags at him. The Odessa mob and the Escabedo Cartel have worked too closely together in the past for Tim to brush them off, especially when it comes to the Odessa’s connections to apparent arms smuggling.

There is nothing to do now but to lay low and wait. And if Tim occasionally spends an extra thirty minutes at the end of the night waiting near one of the Bats’ usual patrol routes for a glimpse of a cape, well. Nobody has to know but him.^^^

Tim's going to get hurt isn't he? I hope not.

^^ Bruce, conspicuously, is missing. Dick mentions a last-minute work trip, but Tim doesn’t worry too much. The news earlier that day announced that the Justice League is fighting some giant robots down in Kentucky. They’ve dealt with worse in the past; Bruce will be fine.^^

Bruce will be but will you Tim?

^^ His parents don’t call that week. Tim bikes to school, does his homework, and hangs out with Jason and Dick. He attends his gymnastics lessons and martial arts classes. Mrs. Mac comes by and leaves meals in the fridge for him.

Drake Manor remains empty, save for Tim wandering about like a ghost.^^

They aren't coming home later that month are they?

^^ He holds his breath and snaps pictures as several people carry cardboard boxes out of the warehouse and load them into the truck. It’s impossible to tell what’s inside, but it’s probably nothing good. After all, why else would they go to the trouble of loading unmarked boxes into a van after midnight?

An unfamiliar man steps out of the warehouse and walks over to the person with the epaulette tattoos. He grabs something from his pocket and holds it out to the man-- money, maybe? Tim shifts, trying to get a better angle, when his foot strikes the metal shell of the HVAC unit to his left.

The clang rings out, unnaturally loud in Tim’s ears. Multiple heads swivel to look up at the roof, but Tim doesn’t stick around to see if they pull out their guns. He’s grabbing his things and getting the fuck out of there.

With clumsy hands, Tim shoves the lens cap back onto his camera. He tosses the entire thing into his backpack before leaping onto the next rooftop and starting to run.

Tim was born and raised in Gotham. He is intimately familiar with the sound of gunshots. Still, he’s never been the intended target before. When he hears the familiar pop pop pop of shots being fired, his heart rises into his through. He has a tiny canister of pepper spray and a Swiss army knife, but neither of those things will help him here. Right now, what Tim needs to do is run.

And so he does.^^

Shoot!! Run Tim, run!

^^ Around four blocks away from the Escabedo’s warehouses, he jumps across a narrow alley to reach the next roof. It’s a routine jump, one he’s done many times before, but then his ankle buckles when he lands and all of his weight goes onto it and he’s falling. If he wasn’t wearing a backpack, he could roll and distribute the momentum. But Tim is wearing a backpack and his backpack contains his camera.

Tim will not risk breaking his camera.

So he holds out his arms the way that he was taught in his martial arts classes so the force of the fall will be distributed from his hands to his elbows. Tim falls and hits the rough concrete roof with a thump.

For a moment, he’s dimly aware of his throbbing ankle plus a stinging knee and hands. The knee and hands are just scraped, he thinks. His ankle is another matter entirely, but he doesn’t have time to check. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just barely see what looks like a black van.^^

Well he isn't shot but dang is he hurt.

^^ By the time that Tim reaches the front door, his breathing is ragged. From his shin down, his leg feels like it was dipped in magma and then shot. He’s kind of surprised that his foot hasn’t fallen off yet. It takes him longer than usual to unlock the front door, thanks to his shaking hands. Tim manages to haul himself inside and shut the door behind himself. He leans his back against it for a moment, breathing hard, before he slowly slides to the floor

Why does everything suck? Why can’t his body just do stuff and not break?^^

Thank Ra, you got home safely Tim but you're hurt. That's why everything sucks right now.

^^ Tim shuffles around the living room with his chair, grabbing white blankets from the back of sofas. Finally, he picks a spot in front of his favorite couch and sets his sneakers next to it. He lays out the fluffiest-looking blanket before wrapping the others around him. His backpack goes under his foot to elevate it-- he’s pretty sure that he read somewhere that you’re supposed to do that-- and he sandwiches the ice pack between his foot and his backpack. An inelegant solution, but it’ll get the job done.

He closes his eyes and the throbbing in his foot abates slightly. It still feels like a bear is trying to chew his leg off, but the night’s adrenaline has long since worn off and Tim is exhausted.

Tim grabs sleep in short snatches where he sleeps like a rock until the pain in his foot wakes him up. It’s not the best situation, but it’s the only one he has.^^

At least you took the best care you can of your ankle, knee, and hands. Now to explain it to your brothers...

Chapter 5)

Oh boy.....I can just feel the worry everyone will have.

^^ Tim grabs a handful of cheerios and shoves it into his mouth as he types out a message. He doesn’t want to cancel but if any of the Waynes see his ankle, then they’re going to start asking questions. If he texts them now saying that he might not make it because he might be sick and then sends a follow up text later saying that he’s actually sick, then it’ll seem like the natural progression of illness. That won’t be suspicious, right?

Tim [10/07, 11:20 AM]: I might not make it today. I’m not feeling well, but I’ll let you know how it goes.

There, sent. He turns his phone on silent and leaves it face down on the floor next to him. With a sigh, Tim pulls the blankets around himself once more and snuggles into his nest. It’s too late in the day for him to go back to sleep, but maybe he can close his eyes for a while.^^

Good luck Tim. You're getting visitors whether you want them or not.

^^ After a minute, the knocking ceases and he can just barely hear faint squabbling outside. He would be concerned that the people from last night had finally found them if not for two reasons: first, they wouldn’t knock if they were coming to kill him and second, they definitely wouldn’t be arguing outside if they were coming to kill him.

Besides, those voices sound vaguely familiar.

The front door swings open. Hey, didn’t Tim lock the door behind himself when he came home last night?

“Tim?” Jason calls. The door swings shut with a soft click.

A second later, Dick’s voice chimes in. “Tim? Are you alive?”

“I’m here,” Tim says, not bothering to turn over to face them.

“Tim! There you are, we were worried about you,” Dick exclaims.

Footsteps approach him-- exaggerated for his benefit, surely-- and then the Wayne boys enter his field of vision. Their eyes sweep over him as they catalogue the situation. (Ah, the wonders of Bat training.) Tim blinks up at them and yawns so wide that his jaw cracks.^^

I bet they noticed the blood also, there had to be some, on the front door.

^^ Unfortunately for Tim, the spot that Jason chooses to nudge happens to be where Tim’s injured foot is.

Tim just barely manages to keep himself from shouting. What comes out of his mouth instead sort of resembles a choked-off groan or yelp. Immediately, both boys are kneeling next to him, concern written all over their faces as Tim blinks away the sudden tears from his eyes.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry--” Jason begins, distraught, but Dick quiets him with a look.

“Tim,” Dick says, voice firm but gentle. “Where are you hurt?”

He refuses to look away until Tim hoarsely replies, “Left foot.”^^

Dick is such a big brother/mother hen here. Got a feeling Bruce is going to be just as bad. Not to mention Alfred.

^^ “Landed weirdly on my foot,” Tim replies, closing his eyes. “On the stairs.” The lie burns in his chest, but they either don’t notice or choose to not push.^^

They won't push for now. Later on they will.

^^ “Hey, Tim.” Dick’s voice sounds much closer than it previously did. Tim opens his eyes and finds Dick crouching next to Jason at his side. “Your ankle definitely looks sprained, possibly broken. We’re going to take you back to the manor so Bruce can help us figure out what to do, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim mumbles.

Dick smiles gently at him. “We’re going to carry you upstairs so you can grab some of your things, all right? You can hang out at our house and we can help you call one of your relatives or family friends so you can stay with them until you’re better. It’ll be safer to have someone keeping an eye on you instead of letting you hobble around everywhere by yourself.”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t have any relatives nearby.”

Dick tilts his head. “What about any family friends that you could call?”

Another shake of his head. Frankly, Tim has no idea who his parents’ friends are other than the people who they occasionally chat with at galas, but he’s pretty sure that they don’t count.

“All right,” Dick says. “Well, you can always stay with us, but I bet Bruce is going to need to discuss it with your parents first.^^

Bruce is going to frown and look into Tim faster than he was I bet. Tim better be ready to live at the Manor for a while, if not forever soon.

^^ Both boys’ eyes fixate on Tim’s wrists as the sleeve of his hoodie slides back with the motion. He frowns in confusion before remembering the band-aids covering the scrapes on his palms. “I tried to catch myself when I fell,” he explains and then adds, “They weren’t bleeding too badly, but I didn’t want to get the couch dirty.”

Dick’s gaze sharpens and for a terrifying moment, Tim thinks that he’s going to get mad at him. But then his expression smooths out and he nods thoughtfully. “We can check those out at the manor. Tim, I’m going to pick you up so we can take you upstairs and grab some of your things. Sound like a plan?”^^

Dick isn't mad at you baby boy. He's angry that you had to deal with this alone. No one should have to deal with cleaning up and etc after getting hurt. Not to mention the part about the couch, you probably didn't even realize, caught his attention.

The scene of Tim getting carried upstairs makes me smile.

^^ A pang shoots through Tim’s chest as the front door closes behind them with a click. As they walk away, he looks over his shoulder at Drake Manor, stately and silent as always. He doesn’t know why he expected the manor to look any different without him in it.^^.

Because it looks like you never even lived there Tim. Plus, I'm hoping, it might be one of the last times you see it.

^^ Jason pulls out his phone as they head towards Wayne Manor. “Hi, B.” A pause. When Jason speaks again, he’s slid into something resembling his Robin voice in tone, if not in pitch. “We found Tim. He’s moderately injured. Looks like he has a few scrapes and his ankle is pretty messed up, so we’re bringin’ him back home with us… No, they weren’t there. He says that he doesn’t have any relatives or family friends that he could stay with either.” Another pause. “Nope, nothing… I know, me neither.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Dick asks casually as they cross over onto the Waynes’ property. “We can have Alfred heat up some leftovers for you. He made some really good lemon chicken and potatoes last night that I think you would like. He also makes really good sandwiches and I think there’s some leftover soup in the fridge.”

“...A sandwich would be nice,” Tim agrees after a moment of thought before quickly adding, “But I don’t want to impose. You don’t have to feed me.”

“Nothing urgent,” Jason says into his phone, casting a sidelong look at Tim. “Yeah. Uh huh, all right.”

Dick cranes his neck to stare incredulously at Tim. “Of course we have to feed you, buddy! You’re, what, twelve? You’re still growing and you need the nutrients and energy.”

“Cool, see you soon. Love you, dad. Bye.” Jason puts his phone back into his pocket and turns to Tim. “Sorry, did I hear you say something about us not needing to feed you? What, are you a robot or somethin’?”

“Jason,” Dick says in warning, though his tone remains light.

Ignoring him, Jason barrels on. “Last I checked, you need food. Of course we’re gonna feed you. It’s not like Bruce can’t afford it or something.”

Tim watches Jason carefully, sinking into the back of Dick’s neck. “I know, I just don’t want to impose. That’s all.”

Jason’s face softens. “You’re never imposing on us, Timbo. Now come on, Bruce is waiting for us.”^^

I love how Dick is distracting Tim from the phone call while talking about food. Something was going on there and I bet it has to do with keeping Tim.

You are not a burden, Tim. You are not. You are loved.

^^ He’s smiling, but there’s an air of tension about him. Is he mad? Maybe he’s upset that Dick and Jason decided to bring Tim back to Wayne Manor without asking first. Or maybe he’s mad at Tim for spraining his ankle? Or he could have been doing important Batman business and was interrupted. It could be any number of things.

“Hey, boys,” Bruce greets them. His eyes flit over them, presumably checking for injuries, before settling on Tim. “Hi, Tim. I heard that you had a rough night.”

Tim shrugs and tightens his grip around Dick’s neck, careful to not choke him. “I guess,” he deflects.

Bruce’s unnerving gaze stays on him for a moment longer. If Tim didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Bruce has Superman’s x-ray vision. When Bruce smiles, Tim feels himself relax. “Let’s get you inside and we can figure out what to do, okay?”

They file inside the manor. As Jason steps past him, Bruce takes one of the bags from his hands and shoulders it. It just so happens to be the backpack that Tim likes to take with him into Gotham at night. The irony of Batman carrying a backpack that contains the camera that Tim has used to photograph the Bats for the past few years does not escape him.

“I’m going to take Tim over to the kitchen and get him some lunch,” Dick tells Bruce.

“All right.” Bruce nods and looks over at Tim. “Jason and I are going to take your things up to a guest room for you. We’ll be down in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim replies. There are still traces of tension in Bruce’s face and Tim hopes that Bruce isn’t pulling Jason aside to yell at him.^^

No, no Tim. Bruce is not angry with you or your brothers. He probably tried calling your parents and couldn't get hold of them. That's it. He's worried.

Jason isn't getting yelled at. He's telling his dad his side of the events and then will have Dick tell him, his side. He's finding out what happened. That's it.

^^ Bruce hums noncommittally. “That’s good. Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle? Dick said that he’s already checked for any obvious fractures, so I won’t do that again.”

“Go ahead.” Tim nods and slides his now-empty plate away from him. Stepping over to Tim, Bruce removes the ice pack from his ankle and holds it in surprisingly careful fingers.

“That doesn’t look pleasant,” Bruce says, making a sympathetic face as he examines Tim’s foot.

Tim hadn’t bothered to fully check out his ankle yet and he’s inclined to agree with Bruce. In the light of the kitchen, the purple bruises wrapping around his ankle look like some sort of bizarre ankle cuff. The swelling has morphed his foot and ankle into something resembling one of those long, tubular balloons that clowns use to make balloon animals.

Bruce glances up. “Is it okay if I touch your ankle? I won’t check for fractures like Dick did ealrier, just swelling.”

“That’s fine,” Tim replies.^^

Why did Bruce repeat himself twice? To make sure it got through to Tim that he had choices?

^^ “Did you take any painkillers?”

“Um, I took two ibuprofen last night.”

“Nothing this morning?”

Tim nods and Bruce turns to Jason, who is already rummaging around in one of the cabinets.

“Here,” Jason says at last, tossing a bottle over to Bruce.

Bruce uncaps the ibuprofen bottle and shakes four pills into his hand. “I’m going to have you take four. I don’t like the look of that swelling. This will reduce it as well as help with the pain.” He takes Tim’s hand and pours the pills into his palm.

Tim swallows them with a sip of water. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”^^

Wait! Didn't Tim take some this morning also? Did he just forget?

I'm glad he's going to see Leslie. Especially since he hasn't seen a doctor in years it seems.

Awe. Jason and Dick both gave Tim piggyback rides. He deserves them. Now Bruce just needs to carry Tim.

I adore how Tim just wonders if the photos have the Justice League in them as he goes into Bruce's bathroom. The bathroom has to be huge! It's got to be the size of a room. At least it seems that way.

Bruce explaining what he is doing is great. Tim might think Bruce is doing it only to humor Tim but it's because no one knows how Tim will react, it gives Tim something to focus on, and even if I knew what they were doing, I want to be told. Besides I bet you Bruce does it to Dick and Jason all the time. Same as with Tim, it gives them something to focus on besides their pain.

Distraction from the pain is exactly what Tim needs and talking about Ace in his own train makes me smile. Especially when Bruce says they need to get Alfred's permission, not his. Alfred's in charge. Bruce is just the figure head.

^^ “Boo hoo, trust fund baby,” Jason retorts.

Without looking up, Bruce remarks, “You know, you probably wouldn’t have gotten so dirty if you hadn’t decided to do the worm in the dirt.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but Bruce quickly adds, “Please don’t subject me to hearing my children make jokes about Dick being dirty.”

“Do you know how many tabloid covers I’ve seen speculating about your love life?” Scoffing, Jason throws his arms in the air. “Too damn many, that’s what.”^^

Jason, you are a trust fund baby also.

Oh, Ra. Well y'all are certainly distracting Tim. Even if he is getting a little bit anxious.

^^ Some of the tension leaves Tim’s shoulders, but he doesn’t bother to fix his posture. It feels better, safer, when he’s curled a little bit into himself. Bruce hums and wordlessly continues bandaging Tim’s other hand. The next few minutes pass in silence as Bruce ties off the bandage on Tim’s hand and begins working on his knee. He moves quickly, efficiently, like he’s done this before. Then again, Bruce probably has lots of experience with patching up his own wounds.

At last, Bruce finishes wrapping Tim’s knee and gives his calf a light pat. “There, you’re all done.” He announces, taking a step away from Tim.^^

Thank you Bruce for seeing how Tim was feeling and calming his brothers down. You're a great dad right now.

(I know, I know they aren't brothers yet but they are acting like ones.)

^^ Bruce nods and turns to Tim. “I’m going to carry you down to the car, okay?”

He stares at Tim and it takes a long minute for Tim to realize that he’s waiting for Tim to respond. “Sure, okay,” he says. That was… weird.

Only then does Bruce step forward and slide one arm under his knees while the other wraps under his arms. Bruce effortlessly picks Tim up and strides out of the bathroom.^^

Thank you! I was hoping Bruce would get to carry Tim and he is.

Tim, you are worrying your family but they will be there for you. I'm glad they all are going to Leslie's. Well except Alfred but he's probably making sure everything is good for Tim to stay besides the room. (Which is going to become Tim's room correct? Or will he move closer to Jason later on?)

Bruce is such a dad ordering now ruff housing and seatbelts.

Chapter 6)

From the summary of the chapter, it looks like Tim is coming home to the Manor. Which is good even if Tim doesn't think so.

I love Leslie being the family doctor and Bruce just putting on a cap and sunglasses as disguise. He can't be seen in Crime Alley but his sons can? Weird.

Dick being the one who checks Tim in makes me grin. Bruce probably knows a lot about Tim already but he has to act like he doesn't and Dick knows more because of hanging out with Tim. That and to probably protect himself.

Bruce carrying Tim makes me smile. It's like he can't get enough of it but he's also not doing it without permission. The way he wraps the blanket around Tim....it's like Bruce is hugging him as Tim gets looked over.

^^ “I was told that you injured your ankle,” she says as she takes a clipboard out of a drawer. “I’m going to take a look at that, but first I’ll need to gather some baseline health information.”

“Okay.” Tim picks at the edge of the bandage on his hands instead of looking up at her.

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs first to make sure that everything is functioning properly, okay?” Dr. Thompkins walks over to Tim and pulls out a stethoscope. “It has to go under your shirt and it’s going to be a little cold,” she warns.^^

Leslie is literally starting from the beginning because she does with all new patients and she has to make sure she is getting everything done correctly for future use and the case for Bruce to take Tim home with him and keep him.

^^ Dr. Thompkins looks through something in her clipboard. “All right. Now that we’ve gotten through all of the general check-up items, let’s talk about your ankle. First things first: what happened?”

“Fell down the stairs,” Tim explains. “My ankle buckled and I fell on my face. That’s how I got the scrapes, too.”

Her gaze flits to the bandages on his hands and knee. “Bruce already took care of those for you?”

“Yeah, he rewrapped them and everything.”

“Hmmm.” Dr. Thompkins writes something down on her clipboard. “All right. When did the injury occur?”

Tim shrugs. “Last night. I thought it wasn’t a big deal, so I went to sleep.”^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. You need to stop lying. They both have an idea you are. So please stop. Tell the truth. Please.

^^ Dr. Thompkins nods. “Oh, Chile sounds fun. I’ve never been. Do you know when they’re getting back?”

They’re approaching dangerous waters. Tim takes his nervousness and shoves it down, down, down. He swallows his fear and lets it sit in his stomach like a rock. “Later this month.”

“Do you have an exact date?”

“They haven’t scheduled their flight yet,” Tim says in lieu of actually answering her question. He’s well aware of Bruce’s eyes on him as he silently watches the exchange.

“And who’s watching you while they’re gone?” Dr. Thompkin’s voice remains frustratingly calm.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Our maid, Mrs. Mac.”

“Where was she today?”

“Today’s her day off,” he replies, omitting the fact that she also has Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday off as well.

“Hmmm. When does she usually work?”

Tim tilts his head, regarding her. He thinks of his mother, her eyes as cool and unyielding as steel, toppling businessmen with poisoned words and a smile as sharp as a knife.

He takes the pain in his heart, sharp like shards of glass, and lets it slip into his words. Let him be cold, let him be unyielding. Let his raw, bleeding heart freeze over until it’s as cool as ice.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Dr. Thompkins, but you seem to be implying that my parents were unable to raise me to be a functional human being. I can assure you that is not the case.” He smiles, leans forward. “Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it.”

Dr. Thompkins raises an eyebrow and stares him down. Tim meets her gaze evenly, but she doesn’t flinch.^^

Tim, you are an idiot. A lovable one but still an idiot. She's asking questions because you are young and alone. Which you should not be.

^^ Leslie’s shoulders are tense as she leads Bruce into her office, shutting the door behind them. He doesn’t usually drop by during the day-- it feels different in the daylight. Fewer shadows, more peeling paint. How Leslie is able to hold her clinic and every person that passes through it together with her bare hands, he’ll never understand.

“Sit,” Leslie orders, gesturing at the worn leather chair sitting across from her desk.

Contrary to popular opinion, Bruce does actually have a sense of self-preservation. He sits..^^

Oh, different point of view. Leslie is on a war path. Bruce is also. I'm glad the two older boys came along so Tim is distracted as Leslie and Bruce talk.

^^ “The floor in his house wouldn’t have been enough to tear up his skin enough. The stairs outside his house could’ve done it, but Dick and Jason didn’t see any traces of blood. I think he fell onto something rough, possible concrete.” Bruce pauses and weighs his next words. “He would’ve had to be moving quickly to fall hard enough to skin himself like that.”^^

So Tim didn't leave any blood on the door.

^^ He shrugs and pushes the mental image of Tim fleeing from some unknown terror out of his head. “It’s a possibility.”

“Okay.” Leslie closes her eyes briefly. “He mentioned his parents’ flights. Did you check them?”

“They’re scheduled to fly out of Brazil and arrive in Gotham during the afternoon of October 25th.”

“And Tim doesn’t know,” Leslie says softly, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to ward off an impending headache.^^

Sorry to disappoint you Bruce but Tim was fleeing from a van. So not really unknown but unknown enough.

Shit, the Drakes really are annoying. Not telling Tim? They probably won't say anything until they get home.

^^ He frowns and thinks back to what Jason told him earlier that day. “Tim doesn’t like anyone helping him with his homework. He acts like-- like he has to prove himself. When we ask him to choose something like food or an activity, he always says that he doesn’t mind and that he doesn’t want to impose. It’s like he’s not used to having an opinion. He’s nervous around me too, more so than around Jason or Dick."^^

That is because of Jack. I'm surprised Leslie isn't sending the report in. I guess they don't have enough evidence. At least Tim will be with Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason.

^^ Tim smiles, but it’s a little forced. They mean well, he knows that, but Tim would really like to be alone in a room for a while. He’s been around more noise today than he has for the past week and he kind of wants to scream.^^

Poor Tim. He's not used to being around a lot of people. School is different. I'm glad the others seem to understand that he needs time and space and are giving it to him.

^^ He ducks into his room and lets out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him. Finally. Hobbling over to the bed, Tim carefully rests his crutches against the headboard before he flops back onto the bed. As much as he’d like to take a nap like he told Jason and Dick, he does actually have things to do.^^

Sleep boy! Youy parents will probably get hold of Bruce first, I'm hoping. Though I pray they won't take it out on you but they probably will make it seem like your fault.

Yes! I'm glad you slept but that fall had to hurt.

^^ Jason jabs the button for the first floor. “It’s so fuckin’ good, man. He taught me how to make it but I can never get it quite like his, you know?”^^

Jason, you are going to get caught cursing. Bad boy.

Ah, so Dick is working again. He should just move back home. I mean how many minutes would it take him to get to work and back? Love Jason's explanation on their proper goodbye. Like he didn't cry the first time Bruce left for a day or so without him. I'm sorry, nearly cry.

^^ Tim frowns, confused. “...isn’t Blüdhaven only a three hour drive away?”

“Yeah, but Dick is nineteen and living on his own. Plus, Bruce and Alfred are secretly worrywarts and big ol’ softies,” Jason blithely informs him. “Dick can take care of himself, but it won’t stop everyone else from fussing over him.”^^

Bludhaven is three hours away? I thought they were closer than that? Then again Wayne Manor is technically outside of Gotham, or is it? Where exactly is Bristol (?) compared to the city?

^^ “You’ve already hugged me,” Tim points out and hopes that he doesn’t look too excited at the prospect of another hug. He wouldn’t want the Waynes to think that he’s weird, or anything.^^

It's Dick. Dick gives out hugs like they're going out of style soon. Especially to family. So yes, enjoy your big brother hugs Tim. I would if I got one from Dick. Heck, I enjoy hugs from the whole family.

Tim's in the family chat! I want Ace pics now, please ans thank you.

Now what were you researching that you needed to know about knives Tim? Of course Jason sleeps through his alarm. He's tired from running around Gotham. Tim never had anyone to wake him so he isn't like Jason and Dick, who was probably like Jason until he woke up.

^^ “Sorry for waking you,” Bruce whispers through the narrowly opened door. “I’m just checking in on all of you.” Translation: he just got back from patrol and wanted to make sure that nobody died in their sleep while he was away.^^

Tim, you really aren't helping me think you're Jack's son thinking this...also, you cant sleep because you're used to running around Gotham. I wonder how Bruce stays awake during the day? Cat naps?

^^ Time blurs into an incoherent mass of grays and deep blues, the same color as the shadows around his room. Eventually-- finally-- Tim falls asleep.^^

Bet you it is around 3 or 4 am when he fell asleep. So if Tim is lucky he'll get about 3 hours of sleep. Which isn't good but at least he slept.

Chapter 7)

^^ As usual, Tim’s alarm blasts the sound of distressingly cheerful chimes at seven in the morning.

Groaning, Tim rolls over and hits the “stop” button on his phone’s screen. He takes a moment to blink at the ceiling above him before he remembers the events of the previous day. Sprained ankle. Wayne Manor. Right. He drags himself out of bed and uses his crutches to hobble over to the bathroom so he can shower before facing the horrors of Gotham Academy.^^

Oof. Two hours it seems. I wonder how many hours he usually gets? Heck, I wonder how many hours any of them get? Especially Alfred who is probably up way before anyone else.

Bruce, no! Why are you giving Tim coffee?!!? Alfred, why are you letting him?!?! Why do I have a feeling Bruce is the start of Tim's addiction?

Wait, you let him have it because he's a guest? You do know Jason's going to grab a full cup...you are bad Bruce. Bad.

LoL I love that Bruce literally made it a rule about the music in the car. He had to otherwise his kids will fight about the music Everytime they are in a car. Good job Bruce.

^^ School is school: occasionally interesting, but mostly boring. Jason carries Tim’s backpack for him between classes. Tim goes to the debate team’s biweekly meeting during lunch and silently looks through that week’s assigned debate reading. The other students make a few attempts to talk to him, but for the most part, they’re too involved in their discussion of which Ivy League colleges consider them legacies to try to rope him in.^^

This is making me think they don't debate at all. They all just joined to have credit on their applications, like the Drakes made Tim.

Tim, Bruce just wanted to pick you two up. Parents do want to spend time with their kids.

Jason, I swear your answers would make people think. I'm surprised Alfred lets them keep the chips and other snacks in the house. He also knows where the hiding spots are.

^^ This also seems to be the wrong answer. Bruce sighs and Tim watches him carefully, but Bruce only shakes his head. “Okay, let’s reset. What I mean to say is maybe you should take a break. Dinner is almost ready. After dinner, how about you work for an hour and then take time to relax?”

Tim blinks at him. “What?”

“You’ve been working nonstop since we got back from school,” Jason pipes in from his spot on the floor next to Ace. His nest of papers disappeared into his backpack a while ago.

“Yeah, because I have a lot of homework.” What is Bruce trying to say?

Bruce crosses the room and sits across from Tim on the couch. “How much of it is due tomorrow?”

“I’ve already completed everything due tomorrow, but I have a few papers and long-term projects that I want to work on.” Tim untucks his legs from under himself so he’s sitting properly. Bruce probably hates it when people put their feet on the furniture.^^

Bruce is trying to get you to relax Tim. You need to be a kid, not an adult. The feet thing he's used to. His sons do it all the time.

^^ Ace’s tail thumps against the floor and Bruce leans over to scratch him behind his ears. “Good. Oh, and Tim, I wanted to let you know that I was able to get in touch with your parents this afternoon. They agreed to let you stay here until they return.”

Jealousy curls in Tim’s stomach before he can stop it. Why did his parents talk to Bruce but not Tim? Maybe they were busy; they probably have a lot of work to do. Yes, that must be it. “Oh, thanks for letting me know,” Tim replies.^^

Stupid Drakes. They're going to blame this somehow on Tim, I know it. Even though he did everything he could to get hold of them.

I love Jim just emailing the Shadow to make sure he's okay. It's such a nice thing to do.

Tim fits right in with his family. The way they all include him somehow but also let him relax is great.

^^ To: Timothy Jackson Drake <[email protected]>

From: Janet Lynn Drake <[email protected]>

October 18th, 12:01 AM (8 hours ago)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Thank you, sweetie. Good luck with your sprained ankle and make sure to be a good guest for the Waynes.

We’ll be back in a week. In the meantime, look at these gorgeous photos that I took when we were in the Andes!

Love,

Mom

Attached:

Andes Santiago view 1.jpg

Andes Santiago view 2.jpg

Andes alpaca.jpg

Andes cloud forests.jpg

To: Janet Lynn Drake <[email protected]>

From: Timothy Jackson Drake <[email protected]>

October 18th, 8:14 AM (just now)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Hi Mom,

Those pictures are lovely; the Andes must be beautiful. I would love to see more pictures if you have them. You and Dad will have to tell me all about your trip once you’re home!

Are you in Brazil now? How is it?

Do you have a timeframe for when you’ll return? I know that you and Dad must be tired from how busy you’ve been and I’d love to do something special to mark your return.

I can’t wait for you to come home. I love and miss you both!

Sincerely,

Tim^^

Wait, Tim emailed and called them on the 7th but it took until the 18th for them to even email him? They talked to Bruce but can't even tell their own kid anything until it's like 11 days later.

^^ Tim watches, bewildered, as their heartwarming reunion quickly devolves into a lighthearted pillow fight. They don’t use any fancy fighting moves that they couldn’t be expected to know, but Dick is unnervingly good at somersaulting away from Jason’s pillow. The pillow fight ends with them both on the floor as Dick does something with his legs to pin Jason’s arms.

“It’s over, Anakin. I have the high ground,” Dick announces dramatically. He gives Jason one final whack in the face with a pillow before releasing him. Jason sticks out his tongue at Dick before crossing the room to wrap Tim in a hug.

Still tense from the fight, Tim leans into Jason’s hug and closes his eyes. Why are all of the Waynes so good at hugging?^^

You'll get used to it Tim. You just need to be shown that not every reunion ,etx is going to have someone get hurt or be angry.

Blame the hugging on Dick. Dick is a tactical person and Bruce and Alfred learned to adapt and then just kept it up with Jason.

^^ have a busy day planned,” Alfred says as he carefully watches Tim chop kale. “Most slow cooker recipes only require a few minutes of preparation and can be left unsupervised for eight to ten hours.”

“That sounds nice,” Tim says as he carefully scoops the chopped kale into a bowl. “I could start dinner and still not be late to school.”

Alfred’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Precisely. I shall send you the recipe for this kale and lentil soup. It’s one of Master Bruce’s favorites. It’s also excellent for growing children, as kale contains lots of calcium and iron.”

“Huh,” Tim says as he measures out the dried lentils. “Well, it looks good already.”

“Just wait until it’s done cooking, Master Tim. It will be delicious. Now, would you mind peeling these carrots for me? I need to check on the sourdough.”^^

Alfred's teaching his youngest grandson how to cook and it is making me smile. Tim, you won't have to use this recipe, hopefully, for a long time. It's for when your at college or in your own apartment, not now. Still good to know though.

^^ “He wouldn’t have to see your pictures. I mean, I think all of us would love to see your work, but we wouldn’t have to.” Jason pauses, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have to be scared of Bruce or hide stuff from him, you know. He’s not going to stop you from taking photos or judge you or anything. If anything, he’ll read a bunch of articles on photography and then buy you an obnoxious amount of equipment.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes from Tim before he can stifle it. “I’m not hiding anything,” he defends. “It’s just that I don’t usually show my photos to other people.”

There’s a long pause as Jason watches him continue to clean the camera. At last, he says, “I could mention it to him if you don’t want to tell him. I think he’d be thrilled, honestly. It’s a cool hobby and I’m sure that you’re really good at it. None of us will go snooping around for your photos if you don’t want us to.”

Tim shrugs. “If you want,” he says.

Jason leans forward, eyes bright. “So you want me to tell him?”

If he says yes, then he’ll hand Bruce a way to link Tim to Gotham’s Shadow. If he says no, then he’ll look suspicious and Bruce might start sniffing around more. It feels like there’s no right answer. Looks like Tim will have to pick his poison.

“Sure,” he replies. “I don’t mind either way.”

“All right,” Jason says, watching him carefully. “It looks like you’re busy, so-- see you later?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Jason stands up and walks out of his room. The door closes behind him with a quiet click, leaving Tim to continue cleaning his camera in peace^^

This whole section has me in love with it but this part especially. Jason saying Bruce would buy Tim photography stuff? Just because Tim is into it? Does Tim even realize that he's part of the family and this is Jason's way of telling him?

Bruce might not know your Gotham's Shadow yet Tim but he does know you need help. Yes, he might figure it out but I think it'll be good for you in the long run. That way you have backup in the future and your as safe as you can be which will be a relief for your family.

(Did Jason take a break from being Robin with Tim there or does he only go out in certain nights, which seems to be a fanon thing?)

^^ “I guess. I don’t take that until junior year, I think.” Tim half-shrugs and watches Bruce cautiously, waiting for his reaction. What does he want? Ever since Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, Bruce has routinely subjected him to questions about his activities. He’s still not entirely sure what Bruce wants to hear, but he’s usually satisfied after extracting a few inane details about Tim’s day. Bruce’s interrogations aren’t necessarily harmful, just confusing.^^

He's being a good and interactive parent Tim. Something guardians and parents are supposed to do. Which you aren't used to.

^^ It’s no big deal. They’re busy, so I guess they forget. Besides, they’ve got problems too and I can take care of myself,” Tim defends. “I can cook and clean up after myself. I can get to and from school. They even left me with one of their credit cards so I can buy whatever I need. I don’t need to be watched like a child.”

“Tim,” Bruce says patiently, “That may be true, but you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that. You’re thirteen, so you’re still legally a child. Just because you have financial resources doesn’t mean that you’re in a good situation.”

Tim frowns. “But my situation is good,” he snaps. “My parents are busy people. Between the two of them, they’re running an entire company and doing important archaeological research.”^^

^^ Tim fumes all the way over to the elevator and into his room. He angrily drops his backpack next to his desk and slides into his desk chair. Why can’t people just leave him alone?^^

Bruce points it out Tim. You are a child. A child should not have to take care of themselves. Adults are supposed to. I know it seems as if they are ganging up on you but they are worried. They want to help. Please let them help. Please.

Chapter 8)

Some email. I know they are going to be bad because of the warnings at the beginning but still...

The dinner sounds amazing. I hope at least Tim gets to enjoy it.

^^ Without any people in it, the manor feels like a ghost house. Tim turns on the living room lights and heads up the stairs. Bruce and Jason follow him. He tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice them looking around as they take in the house.

He nudges open his bedroom door and drops his school backpack next to his desk. “You can put my stuff down wherever.”

Bruce sets the duffel bag and crutches down next to Tim’s bed. Jason adds Tim’s night backpack to the pile before walking back into the hallway.

“I’m gonna put away the groceries,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Thanks!” Tim calls back.

The room is quiet for a moment as Bruce glances around before his eyes settle on Tim. “I know that your parents are coming back tomorrow, but you know that you can call us at any time, right? The reason doesn’t matter. You can be sad or scared or injured or happy. And if you want one of us to come get you, we will. It can be the middle of the night and we’ll come. All right?”

Tim nods, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I know.” Not that he’ll need it, but the offer is nice.

Bruce watches him for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. I’m going to help Jason with the groceries.” He reaches out and pats Tim on the shoulder. Tim gives him a half smile before Bruce strides out of his room.^^

Of course they are looking around. They're looking for proof to get Bruce custody.

Thank you Bruce for reiterating that Tim can rely on you all. Here's hoping he actually does call. Even if it is not right away.

It took them until 10 pm to get home and they didn't tell Tim?!? He didn't even eat because he was waiting for them!

^^ Hand hovering over the doorknob of the front door, he hears one door click shut. He waits for a moment, but there’s no other sound. One door closing means that they’re sleeping in the same bedroom. Good; they’re probably not fighting right now. Smiling, Tim slips outside and starts hauling luggage inside.

Before he goes to bed, he makes sure to clear the table and load all of the dirty cooking dishes into the dishwasher. Tim grabs his backpack before he goes upstairs-- he doesn’t want to leave a mess in the living room, after all-- and heads up stairs.

He pauses for a moment, listening to the soft snores coming from behind his parents’ bedroom door, before he ducks into his room. It’s nice to hear the house sound alive for once.^^

Ugh, they are going to yell about Tim leaving their luggage down there aren't they?

Tim, your backpack is showing the house is lived in. It's not making a mess. Their luggage is making a bigger mess than you ever will.

You're so used to how lively Wayne Manor is now you didn't even realize what you thought, Tim.

I'm glad you can't go out into Gotham yet but I am also glad that you're at peace with riding your bike.

Uh oh. Stay safe Tim!

^^ At six-thirty, Janet sweeps through the front door, arms laden with takeout bags. “I bought us dinner from that Thai place you like,” she says, smiling.

It’s been years since Tim has eaten there, but he remembers their food being pretty good. “Thank you, Mom!” he chirps as he hobbles over to the cabinets to gather dishes to set the table with. Tim had hoped that they would be able to postpone last night’s dinner to today, but he doesn’t want to let the food his mother brought go to waste.^^

But your food can. That can wait, Tim. Have them enjoy the food you made! That can be dinner tomorrow.

I'm guessing the dinner went bad and got thrown out. Which sucks.

^^ At the end of his algebra class on Tuesday, his teacher passes out the tests that they took last week. Tim looks at the face-down paper on his desk, heart racing, before he steels himself and flips it over.

A bright red 82 stares back at him.

Eighty-two? His stomach does somersaults. It feels like something is squeezing his heart and filling his chest with lava. His skin is buzzing. Eighty-two is a B minus, not even a B.

The paper shakes in his hands, so Tim quickly stows it in his backpack before anyone can see his grade. Dizzy, he waits for his teacher to dismiss the class before he calmly walks to the bathroom and vomits into a toilet. He can faintly hear the muffled stampede as students rush to their various buses and chauffeurs.

Tim kneels on the cold tile floor and tries to control his breathing as he waits for the rush of students to die down. When it sounds like the main wave of students has left, he stands up, flushes the toilet, and washes his hands.^^

I would be happy with an 82. I hate when guardians and parents act like you need to be perfect. An 82 is great!

Tim needs a hug from his brothers now! It's going to be bad...I hope not but I know it will be.

^^ Numbly, he drops his backpack next to the front door and walks over. “What is it?” he asks as he takes a seat across from his mother and next to his father.

Jack slides a piece of paper across the table to him. It’s a print-out of his online grade report. This one is from his algebra class and displays the grade he received for each assignment. The most row containing the recent test is highlighted in glaring yellow.

“Notice anything?” his father asks mildly, eyes hard. He’s angry, Tim can tell. His shoulders are tense and he’s practically vibrating with it.

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” Tim mumbles. His tongue feels too big and clumsy for his mouth.

“What was that?” Jack growls, leaning forward. “Repeat yourself. Louder, this time.”

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” he repeats.

Janet watches him, eyes cool. “Tim,” she begins, “Do you know where these sorts of grades will get you?”

Tim swallows. “Not into the CEO’s office.”

She nods. “Exactly. These grades are unacceptable. You must not forget that your classmates will be your competition in the future. Everything-- your grades, comportment, everything-- can be used against you. We’re trying to prepare you for your future. If you continue like this, you’ll be a laughingstock. Build your armor now before you can be attacked for it later.” Seemingly done for now, Janet leans back in her chair.

“Right.” Tim nods. “Of course. I’m-- I’m sorry.”

“Your mother is right. And did you ever stop and think about how this will reflect on us?” Jack reaches out and slams his hand down on the highlighted 82. Tim flinches at the sound. The cursed number glares at Tim, yellow and garish, from the page. “You’re a Drake, Tim. What happens if, say, LexCorp finds out about this? They’re going to think that the future CEO of Drake Industries is weak and useless, and that will be like blood in the water.”

Absently, Tim notices moisture gathering in his eyes. He blinks, willing it away. “I’ll try harder next time. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Jack leans forward in his chair. “You’d better. Because you know what these grades are going to do for you? They’re going to--”^^

They can't even fucking call rhwie kid everyday but they can check his grades and get mad at him for not being perfect. B's will and are CEOs! Tim needs to understand that his parents are being assholes right now.

^^ Finally, he’s dismissed. Tim grabs his backpack and heads up to his room as quickly as he can with his foot still in the walking boot. The sound of his door closing behind him is a welcome relief. Tim lets his head drop for just a moment as he wills away a sob. Chest tight, he drags himself over to his desk and takes a seat. It would be best to avoid any more poor grades this week, so he opens up his algebra notes and starts studying where he went wrong.^^

You did nothing wrong Tim. Nothing! You shouldn't have had to apologize or even think you did something wrong.

^^ Tim focuses on his homework and tries to wait out the fight. Finally, someone-- Tim suspects that it’s his mother-- shouts something and there’s a loud clang downstairs. It doesn’t sound like something shattered, so he doubts that anything is broken. Good, that will make for less of a mess to clean up tomorrow.

Someone goes up the stairs and Tim recognizes his mother’s footsteps. They’re louder than usual; she must be angry. His guess is confirmed when she stalks down the hall and the door to his mother’s bedroom slams shut.

So they’re back to sleeping in separate bedrooms, then.

Algebraic equations blur as Tim’s eyes go unfocused. He hopes that the argument wasn’t over him. He’ll have to try harder next time if he wants them to stop fighting.^^

Why do you need to clean up their mess? They should do it. It's not your fault Tim. It isn't.

^^ Tonight, though, is Halloween. Every Gothamite knows that nothing good happens on Halloween, which is precisely why tonight is a good time for Gotham’s Shadow to reappear. There’s sure to be some sort of mischief going on that Commissioner Gordon will want to know about.^^

Lord please be careful Tim. Please. Something is going to happen and I don't think it will be good. I'm hoping I'm wrong though.

Scarecrow makes me mad and I'm sad for the kids. They just wanted one day to have fun and couldn't even get that.

^^ “I can’t believe the kind of nutcases in this city,” Jack says at breakfast the next morning. He gestures at the newspaper sitting in front of him and shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous. You’d think that Arkham would discipline the crazy out of them, but I guess not. They must be getting soft.”

Tim puts his now-empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m going to head out. Don’t want to be late for school and all that.”

Sipping on her coffee, Janet barely glances up from her phone. Jack keeps talking animatedly, even as Tim grabs his bike helmet and slips out the door.^^

Jack sounds old school, like he want them to use electric shock and etc on them. I'm glad Tim got out of there safely. Hopefully he'll stay safe.

Chapter 9)

I'm scared for Tim just from the chapter summary. Here's hoping he goes to the Wayne's for help.

^^ Tim is pretty sure that he read something in the news about Batman and a few members of the Justice League fighting some killer robots in Star City earlier this week. And where Batman goes, so does Robin. At least Jason doesn’t look injured, so it seems more likely that his absences were due to him simply not being in Gotham rather than him suffering some terrible wound.^^

Not all the time since Bruce has been gone and Jason has stayed behind. Dick also. Especially if Bruce doesn't know what they are fighting which means keeping his sons safe and away from the danger.

^^ He nods contemplatively. “Good. And you’ve been doing the stretches that Dick showed you, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tim says, rolling his eyes.

Jason has the good grace to look slightly ashamed, but only slightly. “Sorry for mother henning you. We miss you over at the manor, Timbo.”^^

Love how Leslie gave him stretches but Tim listens to Dick more.

Let Jason mother hen toy, Tim. Let him!

^^ Tim sets down his algebra problems and hurries down the stairs-- there’s no sense in dilly dallying when his parents are in a mood. His parents are still in their work clothes and staring each other down in the kitchen.

“Set the table,” Jack orders without breaking eyes with Janet.

“What should I set it for?” Tim asks. “Do we need spoons, or--”

“I don’t care, just set the goddamn table!” His father snaps.

“Right, sorry.” Tim quickly carries a stack of plates and utensils over to the table. The sound of silverware clanging is loud in the otherwise quiet house. He doesn’t dare to risk glancing at his parents; at times like this, it’s best to avoid catching their eye.^^

Shit, Jack is in a mood. Why the fuck did they stay married if they take their marriage woes out on Tim who has no say in the marriage? He's just their son.

^^ His hands shake as he shoves his algebra homework into his backpack, but he leaves his laptop out since he doesn’t have any essays to work on. Shouldering his backpack, Tim heads back down the stairs.

Walking over to the kitchen table feels like he’s walking to his doom. Tim sets his backpack down next to his usual chair and sets his algebra practice problems in front of him. He sets his phone face down on the table too so he can double check his answers. Grabbing a pencil from his bag, he resumes working where he left off before dinner.^^

Why the whole backpack? The book I understand but the backpack? Especially to the living room.

Jason no! Tim no! Please don't. Please.

^^ “Hang on, Bruce is texting me,” Tim mumbles, frowning at his phone.

“Son,” his father growls, reaching for his phone. “We need to talk. Give me the phone.”

“What? No!” Frowning, Tim tries to twist away from his father’s grasping hands.

Jack looks pissed. Oh, Tim is so fucked. “I said to give me the damn phone!”

He grabs Tim’s upper arm and yanks him towards the head of the table. Tim hisses as his ribs collide with the edge of the table. Shock loosens his grip on his phone and Jack pries it out of his hand.

Before Tim can snatch his phone back, Jack stands up and glowers at him. “I’m trying to talk to you like an adult and all you do is ignore me and look at your damn phone!” he snaps.

“Dad…” Tim whispers. He can feel his heart pumping and his face is way too warm. His entire body is too warm, like he’s burning from within.

Jack turns and storms towards his office. Tim scrambles after him, unable to get his jaw to work properly. He freezes in the doorway as his father heads straight for his excavation kit and pulls out a hammer.

“How do you like this?” Jack snarls, raising the hammer. The screen is the first thing to shatter, but his dad keeps going. “You’re grounded and I’m taking away your phone privileges.”

Each strike of the hammer feels like a physical blow. His entire body is rushing, sinking, burning. He’s frozen in place, an unwilling witness as, piece by piece, his phone fractures into pieces.

When Jack finishes, he’s smiling triumphantly. Tim feels hollow, like someone scooped out his insides. Absently, he wonders if he would ring like a bell if someone hit him with a hammer.

“I won’t be dissed in my own house, son,” Jack says. His words sound very far away.

Tim nods. It’s all he can do. The rest of him is still frozen in place as he stares at the remains of his phone.

“Go finish your homework,” his father orders.

“Yes, Dad,” Tim says numbly.

Somehow, the command is enough to force his unwilling limbs to march back to the dining table. His body takes a seat, but Tim’s mind is still somewhere else, drifting. He feels unmoored. Everything is muffled like there’s a fine layer of snow between him and the world. It feels like he’s looking from the inside of a fishbowl, all smooth, impenetrable glass.

Tim stares at his homework until, mechanically, he picks up a pencil. He absently solves each equation, barely comprehending the numbers in front of him. Apparently it’s enough for his father, who doesn’t reemerge from the office.

Eventually, Jack stalks out of the office and up the stairs. Janet follows suit twenty minutes later, taking her book with her. She turns off the living room lights, leaving only the soft backlighting of the kitchen. Tim stays at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the numbers in the dim light, until his eyes begin to drift shut against his will. Only then does he finally peel himself from his seat, gather his papers, and numbly head upstairs.

The numbness echoes in him until he falls asleep. Even then, it sinks its claws into the fringes of his dreams, turning them gray and murky.

He dreams of sitting on a cool concrete rooftop, its cold permeating his entire body. He dreams of panicked trick-o-treaters running through the streets below as he sits on a rooftop, hidden and forgotten. He dreams of flickers of capes passing him by, of the hiss of grappling guns and delighted laughter fading into the distance.^^

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn you Jack! Damn you Janet!

Tim, please tell Jason the truth. Please.

^^ When he wakes in the morning, he still feels off. This time, he feels less like he’s controlling his body from inside a fishbowl and more like… feeling nothing at all. An all-encompassing numbness hugs his chest and nestles somewhere in the space between his ribs. Tim breathes deeply with one hand pressed to his heart. It’s still beating, but its pulse is faint.

He forces himself through his morning routine and his classes are more mind-numbing than usual. Tim shuffles into his usual corner of the library, hidden from the prying eyes of the librarians, and settles into a chair. It feels like he should do something, but what? He doesn’t feel like reading.

Tim ends up staring at the wall, mind blank, until something moves in a blur in front of him. He starts, flinching away from the motion and curling up. He stays like that, dark and safe, for a few seconds until he registers that someone is murmuring soothingly to him.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s just Jason,” Jason whispers softly from somewhere nearby. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Slowly, Tim lifts his head up from where he’s pressed against his knees. “Hey,” he says, voice cracking. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Jason wordlessly spreads his arms, a silent question. Tim leans forward until he can press his face into Jason’s shoulder as the other boy wraps him in a hug.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Jason murmurs as he rubs Tim’s back.

A few heartbeats pass and Tim finally pulls away. Jason stands up and takes the seat next to Tim. “Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says hoarsely. “Sorry. I-- didn’t sleep well. Nightmares.” It’s a bad lie and he knows it.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks, brow furrowed. “I just-- you didn’t respond to any of our texts last night. Bruce and I were getting worried.”

Tim shrugs half-heartedly. “Broke my phone.”^^

Jason is so telling Bruce. Especially since he knows you didn't break your phone and how scared you are right now.

^^ He frowns. “You failed a test this week. I really don’t think--”

“But I’ve studied really hard since then and--”

Jack cuts him off, eyes hard. “Don’t interrupt me. Bad grades mean no going out. That’s a rule, son. You--”

Tim interrupts, clenching his hands into fists. “Come on, Dad, they invited me and everything--”

His father’s hand moves and Tim flinches instinctually before the side of his face flares in pain. It takes him a moment longer to process the harsh sound of skin hitting skin. The slap hurts fiercely. Tim raises a hand to his stinging cheek and stares at his father, eyes watering.

“You need to learn how to follow the rules,” Jack says harshly. “I’m doing this for you, Tim. You’ll thank me someday. I can’t just let you run around when your grades are slipping.” He stands up and Tim takes a step back, eyes burning.

Wisely, he keeps his big mouth shut. His face hurts. He should’ve known that asking about this now would be a bad idea. He should’ve known--

His father turns and marches up the stairs, fuming. Tim watches him, rooted in place.

A hand lands on his shoulder and Tim jumps. “Your father is right, you know,” Janet says calmly. “We’re only trying to help, but you keep sabotaging your grades.”

Tim nods weakly. His cheek is on fire and his face is on fire and his heart is burning. He’s melting.

“Come on, Tim,” she orders, shoving him none-too-gently towards the stairs. Tim stumbles forwards, but he’s having trouble getting his legs to work. All he wants to do is hide in a hole somewhere, preferably for the next twenty years or so.

Frowning, Janet grabs his arm. “I said come on,” she hisses, fingers digging into his arm. She yanks on his arm until he finally shuffles after her, head bowed.

Janet mercilessly tugs him up the stairs and down the hall to his room, her hand like an iron vise. It might as well be wrapped along his lungs because it feels like he can’t breathe. From inside his room, there’s the sound of crashing. Tim’s heart plummets as Jack steps out, dragging Tim’s television along with him.^^

What the fuck? A 98 /89 is not a failing grade! What the fuck is up with these two?!?

Plus taking everything away because he talked back and 'failed'? Fuck them!

I hope to Ra they go to jail and get what they deserve.

^^ Besides, Tim just isn’t feeling it. When he’s in Gotham, he’s closer to the stars than to anything else in his life. Tonight, he’s stuck on the ground, staring up at the insurmountable rooftops like a bird without wings.^^

Tim, tell Jason! Tell him!

Chapter 10)

^^ Tim spends most of Sunday sleeping as the bone-deep numbness morphs into exhaustion. He’s so tired and there’s not much for him to do except for studying, sleeping, and quickly hiding his laptop whenever he hears footsteps in the hallway.

Blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shroud, Tim stares at his reflection in the mirror. The hit to his face didn’t bruise too badly. It’s a bit swollen, but at least the discoloration is enough that it could be covered with some good concealer. His arm, though, is another matter. The place where his mother grabbed him is marked by a deep blue and purple bruise. Tim can almost see the outline of her fingers. At least it’s only on his upper arm and it’s cold enough outside to justify him wearing long sleeves until it fades.

He leaves his room exactly twice. Once, he leaves to sneak a box of froot loops into his room. He always maintains a stash of nonperishable food in his room, but there’s no sense in depleting his hoard when he could still get food from the kitchen. The second time he leaves is when his parents call him for dinner. Dinner is quiet and stilted, but Tim will happily take silence over screaming. He excuses himself as quickly as politely possible and shuffles back upstairs so he can collapse into the sweet embrace of his bed.^^

Oh, I'm hoping, and it certainly seems like it will happen, Jason finds out and Tim let's him know everything. Everything.

It'll hurt but also get Tim home sooner to his dad, brothers, and grandfather.

^^ Monday rolls around, but he doesn’t feel much better. Tim goes through the motions of forcing himself to roll out of bed and bike to school anyways. He covers the light bruising on his face with a judicious application of concealer. (Thank god for makeup tutorials on YouTube; they’ve been helping him cover the bruises from his nights out in Gotham for years.)

He has his usual debate team meeting during lunch, so he doesn’t run into Jason. School goes as usual and Tim bikes back home.^^

Damnit! Here I was hoping Jason would see him.

^^ Something about the smile on Jack’s face feels off and Tim doesn’t like it. He steels himself as Jack stands up and strides over to him. Jack lifts a hand and Tim tenses, but he only takes Tim’s hand and… hands him a new phone?^^

^^ They walk up the stairs together and head over to Tim’s room. The first thing Tim notices is the new television on his wall. It’s kind of unnecessarily large. There’s what looks like a wii console under it and a stack of video games.

“Do you like your new TV?” Jack asks, looking hopeful.

Tim forces a smile. “I love it! Thank you.”

“We got you a bunch of games too. Oh! We also bought a new camera for you.” Jack pats a compact digital camera sitting on Tim’s desk. Already, Tim can tell that it doesn’t have the same long-range zoom as his old camera. “It’s brand new. We got you a nice tripod for it too.”

“Oh, wow, thanks! I’ve never used a tripod before,” Tim says. The tripod would probably hold him back when he’s running through Gotham, but he doesn’t mention that little detail.

Jack smiles. “We’ve also increased the monthly spending limit on your debit card from ten thousand per month to twenty thousand. If you ever need more, just use our card instead of yours.”^^

This is creeping me out....are they trying to buy his silence? Because it sure seems like it.

Damn, I hope Tim can get his old camera back.

^^ Tim turns on his new phone and links it to his Drake Industries account. Seconds later, it begins downloading his contacts, messages, and photos from his account. Looks like he has a bunch of missed messages from Jason and Dick. He flips through them, but it’s just them suggesting which movies to watch.

On a whim, Tim starts typing a message to Jason and Dick.

Chat: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and 1 other person

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Do you know if clones retain all of the memories of the original person, or would it take special technology to do that?

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Asking for a friend.

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: ????????

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: what the fuck?

Dick [11/05, 3:44 PM]: TIM YOU HAVE A PHONE AGAIN!!

Tim [11/05, 3:45 PM]: My parents got me a new phone.

Tim [11/05, 3:46 PM]: I’m worried that they might have been replaced by clones or something. They’re acting really weird.

Dick [11/05, 3:47 PM]: what do u mean by weird

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: weird how?

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: jinx

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: you owe me a soda

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: fuck u jay

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: ok but tim, what u mean by weird

Dick [11/05, 3:49 PM]: do u need help?????

Tim [11/05, 3:49 PM]: I’m fine, don’t worry.^^

Tim...you just worried your brothers even more.

^^ Tim [11/05, 3:53 PM]: They bought me a ton of video games out of the blue. I think they got me Fortnite. Who even plays that anymore??

Jason [11/05, 3:54 PM]: they got you fortnite?? HAHAHAHA oh my god

Dick [11/05, 3:55 PM]: do kids not play fortnight anymore???????

Tim [11/05, 3:57 PM]: 1) I’m not a kid. 2) No, they do not.

Dick [11/05, 3:57 PM]: wow i feel old

Jason [11/05, 3:58 PM]: you are old

Dick [11/05, 4:00 PM]: thx im really feeling the love 2night

Jason sent 1 picture

Tim opens the picture and laughs. It’s of Jason sticking out his tongue while he flips off the camera.

Dick [11/05, 4:02 PM]: idk much about clones’ memories but i will srsly fight ur parents clones if u need me to

Jason [11/05, 4:03 PM]: wait do your parents not randomly buy you stuff?? they’re rich

Dick [11/05, 4:03 PM]: ooooo jay has a point

Oh no. Abort mission.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: They buy me plenty of stuff, guys. Like you said, they’re rich.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: Nevemind, forget I said anything.^^

Case in point.

^^ “Listen, just forget that I said anything about clones or whatever,” Tim sighs, leaning back into the uncomfortable wooden library chair. “Like I told you, it’s probably nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Jason shoots back. “Listen, if your parents are acting weird--”

“Jason, it’s fine.” He throws an arm over his eyes before realizing that his white sleeve is perilously close to the concealer covering the bruise on his face. Primer, setting powder, and setting spray might not be enough to keep the concealer from staining the fabric. Tim pulls his arm back, but he doesn’t see any concealer marks on his sleeve. Good, he doesn’t need anyone asking more questions right now, let alone Jason and the rest of the Waynes.^^

To late Tim. Way to late.

^^ For the rest of the week, Tim makes sure to be as polite as possible. He minds his posture and practices his company manners at dinner. His parents seem relatively pleased, but Tim can’t help but wonder what he’s missing. He has to be missing something. It feels like he’s playing whack-a-mole with his parents’ expectations.^^

I think they are leaving again.

^^ His guidance counselor-- Mr. Williams-- beckons for Tim to come in. “Hi, Tim. You can take a seat wherever you’d like. Ms. Fletcher has some questions for you. I’ll let you both get to it-- if you need me, I’ll be in Ms. Rivera’s office next door.” He stands up and leaves, closing the office door behind himself with a click.

Tim sits down in the seat next to the mystery woman who is apparently Ms. Fletcher. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending a hand to shake.

She shakes his hand and smiles. “Hi, I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m a part of New Jersey’s department of children and families. Is it all right if I record our interview?”

“That’s fine with me.” He sets his backpack down on the floor next to the chair.

Ms. Fletcher nods and takes a slim device out of her pocket. After she hits the record button, she leans back in her chair. “I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m interviewing Tim Drake on Thursday, November eighth for the department of children and families.”

“The department of children and families… does that mean that you’re part of CPS?” Tim tilts his head and guides his face into a confused frown. Hopefully his use of CPS instead of the New Jersey-specific CPP will throw her off.^^

Yes, yes, yes! Thank you Leslie! Thank you Bruce! Now please tell the truth Tim. Please.

Wait...oooh! They were trying to buy his silence! Damn the Drakes!

^^ He shrugs. “If I get a bad grade on a test because I was texting instead of studying, they’ll take away my phone for a while so I can actually study.” There, that’s relatively close to the truth. “If I ever get really upset over something and I start getting way too angry, they’ll send me to my room to cool down.”^^

I'm liking the CPS lady. She's a badass and seems like she really wants to help the children out. Instead of only pretending to. Bruce made sure she was a good one, didn't he?

^^ A smile slides easily onto his face, but that speaks more to a great deal of practice rather than any amount of sincerity. “Of course!” he replies, as if the answer was obvious. “My parents love me and are fortunate enough to have more than enough financial resources to be able to provide for me. I’m really very lucky to be in this situation.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey. You’re a good kid, Tim.” Ms. Fletcher smiles back at him. “Well, I think we can start wrapping things up here.”^^

She got enough. Tim knows she did, she knows she did, anyone with a brain knows she did. No wonder why Tim threw up again. Baby boy needs love and care.

Edit: Okay, I still like her but rereading makes me wonder if the Drakes were the ones who called CPS now. Should I not like her?

^^ “If you’re doing as well in school as you did with this, then you must be at the top of your class,” he remarks. “Speaking of, how is school? Did anything interesting happen today?” There’s a gleam in his eye that Tim isn’t quite sure what to do with, so he defaults to being smiling and polite.

“School was good,” he replies. “There weren’t any quizzes or tests today.”

Nodding thoughtfully, his dad keeps smiling. “I see. Well, keep working hard,” he says, and lets the matter drop.^^

Oh, thank you for not lying but not outright saying you got a visit Tim. Thank you. You just saved yourself from more hurt.

^^ As he pours himself a bowl of cereal, Tim dimly realizes that he forgot to ask where his parents were going or when they would be back.^^

They aren't coming back are they? It seemed like a lot of luggage...

^^ His new camera isn’t nearly as good at his old one, but the docks are relatively quiet by Gotham’s standards. Tim spots a few low-level drug dealers but they aren’t the source of the problem so he leaves them alone. He mostly spends his time revelling in how the cold from the metal shipping containers seeps into his stomach and the feeling of the sea breeze on his face. The docks aren’t as visually pretty as the rest of the city, but Tim appreciates how the reflections of the streetlights dance in the waves.

At one in the morning, he calls it a night and heads home. Exhausted, Tim collapses into bed and thinks of nothing for a long, long time.^^

What happened to his old camera? Did they take it with them? Or did Tim not think to get it?

Sleep Tim. You're going to need it because a talk is coming. A talk that is needed.

^^ Tim stares at himself in the mirror. The seemingly perpetual bags under his eyes look much better and the bruise on his face has faded to an ugly yellow and green. It’s noticeable enough that he’ll need to keep covering it with concealer for a while, but it’s not too bad. The bruise on his arm, however, is a different story. It’s still blue and definitely hand-shaped. Ugh.^^

Good luck because it isn't going to work but I'll still wish you luck.

^^ Sighing, Tim throws an arm over his face. Normally, he doesn’t mind hanging out with Dick and Jason. He enjoys it, even. But right now, it feels like there’s ice spreading through his bones, numbing him. Tim is made of skin and flesh and bone and a terrible emptiness lurking in the space between his ribs. He’s hollow, but his limbs may as well be made of lead.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: what are you doing rn? you should come over.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: we can talk alfred into making us cookies.

He sets down his phone and throws an arm over his eyes. Doing anything other than laying on his bed sounds like literal torture. Maybe he should take a nap.

Tim is so, so tired.^^

Tim, baby boy, I just want to hug you do bad. You need it.

^^ “Oh, good. We’ve been trying to call you and I suppose I panicked a little when the boys said that your parents weren’t home.” Bruce admits.

“Sorry,” Tim says after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It’s all right, Tim. We’re just glad that you’re okay.” Bruce says gently. There’s the sound of what’s likely Dick and Jason squabbling in the background. Bruce pauses as if listening to someone and then adds, “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Make sure to ask if he wants to have a sleepover!” Jason calls, though his voice is muffled.

“Jason is asking if you want to have a sleepover. Dick is nodding,” Bruce adds, amusement coloring his voice.

Tim picks at a loose thread on his sheets. “I don’t want to impose….”

“Tim, you’re never an imposition,” Bruce says warmly. “You’re more than welcome to stay over any time you like.”

He pulls at the loose thread as he considers the offer. “Okay,” he says at last. “I’ll sleep over tonight.”^^

Sleepover forever!

Bruce is not letting you in your house by yourself and you know it young man. So good job on saying yes.

^^ Bruce hangs up and Tim stares at his phone for a moment before sighing. Time to pack, he supposes. First, he should throw on a sweatshirt to hide the bruise on his arm. Next, some jeans instead of his old sweatpants. He packs quickly-- he’s only staying over for one night, after all-- before hurrying into the bathroom to carefully cover up his bruise with makeup.

His setting spray has only just dried when there’s a knock on the front door. Tim shoves his makeup and makeup remover into his backpack before he hurries down the stairs.^^

You think it's only one night. Also, Jason knows about one bruise already and i know Bruce knows so give up and tell them. You won't be able to hide them.

^^ “A little tired, but I’ll manage. I spent most of the morning playing with Ace and keeping Dick from accidentally breaking any more furniture. Then I dealt with some WE business and collaborated with Jason to hide snacks from Alfred,” Bruce replies. “He almost certainly knows that we’ve snuck junk food into the house and is merely humoring us, but trying to sneak past him is part of the fun.”^^

Of course taking care of Dick is a full time job even with him not in the house. How does he manage on his own? He literally eats whatever Alfred packs him. I bet he barely tries the recipes either.

Alfred knows. It's not most certainly, it's certainly, Bruce. He lets you sneak past him. It's fun for him also.

^^ A few minutes later, Tim drops off his things in the guest room that he stayed in last time. Other than the freshly made bed, the room looks largely the same. Afterwards, Bruce walks Tim over to his bedroom, where Dick and Jason are sprawled out on Bruce’s unnecessarily large bed. An assortment of snacks sits on Bruce’s nightstand with more in two trays perched on the bed. He gets the feeling that Alfred was responsible for the platter of sliced vegetables and dip, but hey, it looks good.^^

Time to take over dad's bed! I love when Bruce can't even sleep in his own bed without a kid coming in or he gets kicked out of it because the kids want to sleep but no dad allowed.

^^ Tim hesitates for a moment, looking between Bruce and Jason, before he finally gives in and climbs onto the bed. It’s alarmingly comfortable-- the mattress must be memory foam or something. He crawls over so he’s sitting on Jason’s other side and Dick pushes a blanket over to him. Tim leans back against the mound of pillows and wraps the blanket around his shoulders, pulling his knees up to his chest.^^

Relax with your brothers Tim. Your dad better be getting custody of you. (I'm a bit impatient but I want Tim home.) (Or he's making sure the evidence is airtight.) Let Dick and Jason care for you for a while.

^^ Bruce returns as the third movie is beginning and takes his place between Dick and Jason. They waste no time in curling up against him with Dick’s head pillowed on his shoulder and Jason draped on his side.

“Wait, hold on,” Dick says, rolling out of the bed and walking around to Tim’s side. Perplexed, Tim watches as Dick flops down next to him, leaving Tim sandwiched between Dick and Jason.

“You look like you need some certified big brother cuddles,” Dick informs him seriously, holding out his arms.

“O--kay,” Tim says, drawing out the word as he stares at Dick.

Dick wiggles his fingers impatiently. “Come here, Timmy. You look like you need to be wrapped in blankets.”

“On it,” Jason says from Tim’s other side, peeling several blankets from the outside of his next and dropping them onto Tim.

Finally, Tim gives in and scoots closer to Dick. As soon as Tim settles, Dick manages to wrap an arm around him and Jason wriggles closer, still cocooned in blankets. Jason doesn’t quite use him as a pillow, but he does rest his head next to Tim’s side. It has the bonus of being close enough to Dick that he can gently pet Jason’s hair with the arm wrapped around Tim.

“You guys are a bunch of mother hens,” Tim informs them, but his words lack any real heat.^^

Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles! I love this. Tim getting the cuddles he needs from his older brother is pure love.

Awe. :( Why you kick them out Bruce? Let them sleep in your bed! Wait, I mean their bed.

^^ “Do you know when your parents are coming back from their trip?”

He can feel Bruce’s eyes on him. Tim bites his lip and fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before replying, “I forgot to ask.”

Dick gently knocks their knees together. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Bruce nods in agreement, expression neutral. “Dick is right. Did your parents tell you where they’re going?”

“...I also forgot to ask about that,” Tim says and hastily adds, “Sorry.”

Wordlessly, Dick reaches out and slowly wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulders. He telegraphs his movements enough that Tim has time to force himself to relax before Dick gently pulls him closer.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” Bruce reassures him. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ll be honest, Tim. I’d like for you to stay with us until your parents return like you did when your ankle was healing in October.”^^

Considering it was 5:30/6 in the morning, I'm not surprised you forgot to ask Tim.

Yes! Stay! Stay forever!

^^ “They refused to let me come over here the last time that I asked them to,” Tim shoots back. It’s technically a lie of omission: his parents refused due to his poor grades, but Bruce doesn’t need to know that. Lying to the literal Batman makes his skin prickle, but Tim meets Bruce's eyes steadily nonetheless. “They’d probably be pretty angry if they found out you were involved.”

Now, Bruce looks faintly intrigued. He tilts his head minutely. “Angry?”

Next to Tim, Dick tenses slightly before it drains away as if it never happened. He continues to rub soothing circles into Tim’s shoulder.

Tim shrugs and studies the bookshelves behind Bruce. “I didn’t do well on a math test. They were angry that I wanted to come over here instead of study.”

Dick makes a sympathetic noise. Snapping his book shut, Dick sets it on the coffee table before bringing his free hand up to rub Tim’s other shoulder.

“Tim,” Bruce says, painfully gentle, “Does this have anything to do with how you got the bruise on your face?”

Tim freezes, his chest burning white-hot, before he turns to fully face Bruce. “What? How--” He’s been so careful to cover it with makeup every day since the incident. What happened?

“I saw it last night when I was checking in on all of you while you were asleep,” Bruce explains. He’s infuriatingly calm. It kind of makes Tim want to yell, to scream, to destroy something.^^

You did perfectly well on that math test. The Drakes are just assholes.

I knew it! Bet you it was before Bruce even checked on the boys.

^^ “Someone can love you and still hurt you. My goal is for you to be safe and happy, Tim,” Bruce replies, his voice even and measured. “We don’t have to talk about long term plans right now. But until your parents return, I would like you to stay here with us. I want to work with you and help you.” Dick places one hand on Bruce’s arm and gives him a look. Bruce quiets, closing his mouth.

“You can’t just-- just come into my life and uproot everything. I had a life, Bruce!” Tim shouts, balling his hands into fists. His chest burns white hot. Dimly, he suspects that he might be crying.

Bruce’s face remains infuriatingly calm. Part of Tim really wants to punch it, but instead he only clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in trying to help me, but I don’t need you sticking your nose into my business! There are so many other things that you could be focusing on. Gotham needs your stupid help, but you know what? I don’t!”

He stares Bruce down, tears running down his face. Burning hot flames fill his chest and distantly, Tim notes that he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. It takes a moment for the weight of his words to sink in and for Tim to realize that he just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

Tim just screamed at Batman.

Oh, he’s so fucked.

Tim distantly registers Bruce’s mouth moving as he says something, but the words are lost to the rushing in his ears. Bruce reaches out for him and Tim flinches away without thinking. The weight of Bruce’s icy blue eyes clamp down on his chest and make it hard to breathe. He just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

“--deep breaths, Tim,” Bruce is saying, his words distant as if spoken underwater. “I’m not going to hurt you--”

Tim stares at him, eyes burning with tears and chest burning with fire, and bolts.^^

Well...that's a good way of telling them you know their secret....wait, did they even catch that?

Tim, please don't. Don't run.

^^ He reaches a bedroom door that part of his mind faintly registers as mine, so he darts inside. The door slams behind him and Tim jumps at the noise, scanning the room for hiding places. His eyes land on the closet and Tim barely thinks before he opens his closet door and launches himself inside.

Closets are good. They’re quiet and dark and safe. Tim finds a stack of blankets in the corner of the closet and quickly burrows underneath them. If anyone sticks their head in, hopefully all they’ll see is a pile of fabric.

Tim huddles there in the dark, draped with blankets, and tries to control his breathing. He’s panting, gasping for air like he’s just run a marathon, and his heart feels like it’s trying to claw his way out of his chest. His entire body is buzzing with adrenaline.^^

At least you stayed in the Manor. Thank you for that. Now let them help you. Please. Especially since you revealed even more by running after yelling st Bruce.

^^ Eventually, Tim’s breathing calms enough that he can talk without gasping. The first thing he says is, “Bruce is going to be so mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Dick counters. “Worried, yes, but he’s worried for you. I promise.”

“He thinks that--” Tim gulps down another breath and wipes away tears from his eyes, “That my parents are bad people. But they love me, I know that they love me.”

Dick pauses. “I don’t think that people are fully good or fully bad,” he says at last. “I think that we all try our best, and sometimes we can love someone but still hurt them by accident.”

Tim sniffles and wraps his arms around his knees. “I just want my life back,” he says miserably. “Why can’t everything stop being so hard?” His voice cracks on the last word as a fresh wave of tears pours down his face.

“I know,” Dick whispers sadly. “Want to come here?” He holds his arms out in open invitation and Tim is so tired and his head hurts and his chest still feels weird and he’s weak and just wants someone to hug him for a bit.

Scrambling out from under the blankets, Tim crawls over to Dick and sits down next to him. Dick wraps his arms around Tim and pulls him into his chest, and Tim starts crying harder. Wow, Dick is good at giving hugs. He keeps up a steady stream of murmured reassurances and things that are soothing to listen to even if Tim isn’t really processing them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad--” Tim gasps, but Dick only kisses the top of his head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here,” Dick says gently as he rubs Tim’s back. “We’re not mad at you.”

Slowly, the hot, tight feeling in Tim’s chest eases until it fades back into his usual muffled fog. His tears, too, lessen from a combination of dehydration and exhaustion until they stop completely.

“I’m tired,” Tim mumbles into Dick’s shoulder.

Dick strokes Tim’s hair. “I’ll bet. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Tim half-shrugs. “Sometimes,” he mumbles. “Not always.”

“Okay,” Dick replies easily. “If you’re tired, you could try taking a nap. What do you think?”

Tim nods and Dick adjusts his grip on him before standing up, carrying Tim like a child. With his usual easy grace, Dick picks his way out of the closet and walks over to the bed. He gently deposits Tim on the bed and grabs a blanket to drape over him.

“You need to drink some water before you sleep,” Dick says, scrounging a glass from-- somewhere, Tim has no clue-- and padding over to the bathroom. Over the sound of the faucet running, he calls, “Do you want me to get Ace for you?”

Tim contemplates this for a moment before nodding. It feels like his brain was run over by a truck and he would really, really like a warm, fluffy dog on his bed. Realizing that Dick can’t see him, he belatedly replies, “Yes, please.”

Dick crosses the room and hands Tim the glass of water. “All right, give me a minute to find him. Drink the whole glass.”

Tim sips at the water as Dick leaves. A few minutes later, he slips back into the room with a happy-looking Ace. Ace wastes no time in hopping onto Tim’s bed and flopping down next to him. Smiling, Tim snuggles into the blanket and scratches behind Ace’s ears.^^

I'm glad thst Dick went up. Bruce would have been to much, Alfred also. Jason would have worked but I also think he would have done something wrong, even if he didn't try it.

Ace is the best. He's exactly what Tim needs and I'm glad Ace can help.

^^ “I’ll let him know.” Smiling gently, Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “And by the way, welcome to the Yelling At Bruce Club. Everyone in the house is a card-carrying member, so you’re in good company.” He leans forward and kisses Tim’s forehead. Tim makes a face but doesn’t really protest.

Dick makes his way to the door and pauses, glancing at Tim and a very comfortable Ace. “Text any of us if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim replies as he rhythmically strokes Ace’s ears.

Still smiling, Dick slips out of the room. It takes less time than Tim would’ve thought for him to fall asleep.^^

Dick is the best oldest brother. I say oldest because it is a tie between him and Jason for being the best older brother.

#batman #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #fanfiction

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