Thicker Than Water - C_R_Scott (2024)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - In the Beginning

Chapter Text

“What do you think we should name the baby if they turn out to be a boy?” Catherine Todd asked her five year old son as he rested his head against her swollen belly as they shared the sofa of their living room and watched a Disney movie.

Jason lifted his head to look up at her with his wide blue eyes. “I can name him if he’s a boy?”

Catherine nodded with a smile. “Sure. I have lots of good girl names, but not too many ideas for boy ones, and since your father’s… away… you’re the expert on boy names.” She stumbled briefly over the lack of her husband, Willis Todd, in their lives at this moment. He was currently in Blackgate… again… and wouldn’t be out for at least another year and a half. She tried to put it out of her mind, though. It was pointless to focus on what she couldn’t change. She had to focus on the present.

Jason laid his head on Catherine’s belly again, his face turning serious and thoughtful, which was such an adorable look on her soon to be eldest child. “I think… “ Jason started to grin. “...he wants to be named Tim!”

“Tim? Why Tim?”

The boy lifted his head and beamed at his mother. “Because! There are so many great nicknames for Tim!” Jason started ticking names off on his fingers. “There’s Timmy, Timber, Timbit, Timtam, um…. Tim--antha!”

Catherine began to giggle. “Timantha?”

Jason nodded, pleased with himself that he was able to make his mother smile. “And Timberly! And Timberlina!”

With each ridiculously cute nickname, Catherine couldn’t help but laugh with delight as she reached out to ruffle Jason’s curly dark hair, black with red highlights. “You are going to be such a great big brother.”

Then she sighed and rested a hand over her belly, a fond expression glazing over her own pale blue eyes. “Timothy… I think if they’re a boy, Timothy would be a wonderful name.”

“What if they’re a girl?” Jason asked.

“I’ve always liked the name Caroline.”

---

In another part of Gotham City, a pregnant blonde woman stared grief-stricken at her doctor from her hospital bed.

“No… It can’t be… You’re lying!”

“I’m sorry Janet, but we can’t detect a heartbeat.” The doctor reached out and tried to comfort the shaken woman. “You did nothing wrong. This was a miscarriage, and sometimes they just happen. Do you want me to call your husband?”

Janet Drake scrubbed at her eyes and shook her head. “Jack is out on a dig right now in Machu Pichu. He won’t be near a phone for several days.

“I’m so sorry Janet… But we need to go over our next steps to make sure you stay healthy.”

Janet nodded, though she didn’t quite hear what the doctor was telling her. All she could think about was how was she going to tell her husband that she lost their baby?

Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Happy Birthday 01

Chapter Text

July 19th.

Catherine laid back in her bed, exhausted but so very, very happy. She looked down at the tiny swaddled baby nuzzled to her chest.

Her baby boy.

Her Timothy.

She brought him up and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his little forehead before readjusting his blue knit hat more comfortably over his bald head. Sleepily, his eyes blinked open briefly, pale blue orbs trying to focus on her before his toothless mouth stretched into a wide yawn, and he drifted back to sleep.

Catherine sighed with contentment. She wished Jason could see his new little brother, but he was far too young to be with her in the hospital. Thankfully her next door neighbor was able to watch him until her release from the hospital in a couple of days.

Tim was a few weeks early, but thankfully while he was slightly premature, the delivery had gone well and he was otherwise a healthy little boy.

Gingerly, Catherine got to her feet and shuffled over to where Tim’s hospital bassinet rested and set him into it. Once inside, she swaddled him with another blanket, this one she’d knit with her own hands and embroidered with his name on the corner in shiny blue metallic thread. Once he was snug, she went back to her bed and started to make herself comfortable so she could take a well deserved nap.

She was so exhausted and still quite woozy from the pain killers she’d been given after delivery that she barely acknowledged the figure of the evening nurse coming to check on her and her son before drifting off to sleep.

---

July 19th.

Despite how late it was and how tired she was after days of not sleeping, Janet couldn’t stop moving.

She couldn’t afford to stop moving.

If she stopped, someone might catch her.

And they would take her baby from her.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins and forced her feet forward as she clutched her largest shoulder sling bag to her chest and moved as quickly as she could away from Gotham General Hospital. In the dark of night, with only the streetlights for illumination, at a glance Janet looked like a regular nurse coming off a graveyard shift and was walking home. No one would fault a woman, even a nurse, for speedwalking home at that hour of night from the hospital located closest to Crime Alley.

Then she heard the sirens. Alarms blared from the still open hospital doors that she’d just passed through. She could overhear the walkie talkies of the hospital security guards explode with chatter of a missing baby.

One of the guards happened to glance in her general direction.

Janet ran.

The sound of men shouting behind her spurred Janet faster. She took sharp turns this way and that, ducking down side streets and into dark alleys, heedless of the various homeless people and other late night denizens of Gotham City she bumped into and tripped over.

Finally, Janet made it to Robinson Park and ran off the beaten paths to hide beneath a bridge. She wedged herself as tightly as she could into the darkest shadow she could find and prayed…

At least until she heard a whimpering from the bag.

Her wild eyes darted to the bag and quickly she opened it to reveal the blue swaddled baby boy, his face a twisted mirror of distress as he whimpered.

“Oh… oh… shhh shhh shhh…” Janet murmured as she brought the child out and cradled him close to her chest, rocking both of them back and forth in a soothing gesture. “It’s ok… It’s going to be ok… Momma’s got you. You’re momma’s here. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Janet and her baby sat there until dawn, and when it was clear no one had found them, no one had followed them, she used her cell phone to call a cab to pick her up and bring her home.

Jack was going to be home in a few days, and she had a lot of work to before she could introduce him to their son.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Merry Christmas 01

Chapter Text

The sound of Christmas carols was on its lowest setting on the TV as Jason silently placed ornaments on the small artificial pine tree that was set up in their living room. The boy normally loved this time of year, but…

Jason cast a longing gaze at the closed door to his mom’s bedroom. He stared at the wooden barrier for a long time, then looked down at the ornament in his hand, a tiny white turtledove.

Tears filled his eyes as he put the ornament back into its box. Then Jason found a spot on the corner of the sofa, drew up his knees and hugged them tight to his chest, and buried his face.

With the volume low on the TV, and the winter storm outside keeping most of Gotham’s citizens off the street, it made Jason jolt abruptly when there was a sudden loud knocking at the front door of their apartment.

Jason peered over the back of the sofa, hand trembling slightly as he gripped the cushion. “Mom?” he called nervously. “Someone’s at the door!”

Normally, Catherine never let Jason open the door when strangers came calling. It just wasn’t safe. She’d herd him to his room or the kitchen, and she’d address whoever decided to visit.

However, there hadn’t been many normal days in the Todd household since that horrible day in July.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the way his heart beat wildly in his chest, Jason waited to see if maybe the person behind the front door would just go away. Instead, he jumped slightly when a minute later there was another set of knocks.

Uneasily, Jason crawled off the sofa and made his way to the door. He tried to look through the spyglass to see who was on the other side, but he wasn’t tall enough yet to reach it, and there was nothing nearby he could stand on. Finally, Jason took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and undid the deadbolt to open the door a crack, while leaving the flimsy security chain lock in place, just in case.

“Hullo?”

“It’s me, boy. Open the door.”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and he gasped at the sound of a familiar voice he hadn’t expected to hear for another year. Quickly, he closed the door so he could undo the chain lock and then swung the door wide to reveal his father, Willis Todd, waiting in the hallway with a duffle back slung over his shoulder.

“Dad?” While Jason was surprised to see his father, he was wary too. The boy scanned the tall broad man quickly, Were his eyes bloodshot? Did he smell of the bar? Was he unsteady on his feet? “What… how…?”

“Good behavior,” Willis murmured as he stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him before setting his duffle back down on the floor. Then, the man continued to kneel down until he was at his son’s level and he opened his arms to the boy.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat and tears whelled up in his eyes. His father’s balance was sure and sound, the only smell clinging to his clothing was that of his favorite brand of cigarettes, and though his eyes were so much sadder than he’d ever seen on the man, they were clear without any trace of redness. Miracle of miracles. Willis Todd was released early from prison and he came straight home without stopping at the bar.

“Dad!” Jason cried out before dashing into Willis’s arms and burying his face into his father’s chest. The poor boy couldn’t restrain the sob as he felt his dad’s strong arms encircle him and hold him close.

“I’m sorry boy… I’m so sorry,” Willis murmured into his boy’s hair.

They stayed like that for a long moment. When it was clear Jason’s sobs had softened and he’d calmed a bit, Willis pulled back just to look him in the face, gently wiping away the boy’s tears with his thumb. “Where’s momma?”

Jason sniffled and turned to the bedroom door.

Willis stared hard at the door, worry plastered all over his face. “Jay… Do you know if--” Willis paused as he thought a moment. “--’Uncle Walter’s’ been over to visit since the summer?”

Jason shook his head. “No one’s been over except the cops to talk to Mom about…” The boy’s words trailed off. He couldn’t even say his baby brother’s name, though the mere thought refilled his eyes with tears. Then he took a deep breath and steadied hinmself. “...But sometimes, when Mom thinks I’m sleeping, she goes out at night by herself. I dunno where she goes.”

The older man sighed and wiped his face with his hand. Then he reached out and stroked Jason’s hair in a comforting gesture. “Can you go get a cup of water ready for your momma?”

The boy nodded and rushed for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Jason approached his parent’s bedroom with a plastic cup in his hands and he paused. The bedroom door was open.

Peering cautiously inside, Jason saw Catherine sitting up in their bed next to Willis, wrapped up in her husband’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably with her face buried in her hands as he held her and rocked her while he murmured comforting things into her long black hair that Jason couldn’t quite make out.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Willis saw his son and gestured him over without releasing his wife. Jason stepped into the room and set the cup of water on the nightstand. Once his hands were free, WIllis handed Jason a small orange pill bottle that had four or five small pills inside. “Straight into the toilet now,” Willis whispered to Jason.

Jason nodded and quickly went to the bathroom where he dumped out the pills into the toilet and flushed it immediately. A tightness that the boy didn’t realize was coiled in his chest finally released and he felt like he could breathe.

Dad was back. He was free and and he was sober.

Mom had dad, and now those awful pills were gone.

Maybe… Just maybe now things could start getting better.

If only… if only the police would just find his missing baby brother.

Did the universe had enough room for one more Christmas miracle that winter?

---

Drake Manor was filled with lights and sounds of people visiting for the annual holiday party. Holiday decorations sparkled from nearly every corner of the house’s interior. Most of the party guests were people from the archaeological circles that lived in Gotham City. There were also a few random distant extended family members that they only saw once or twice a year milling about as well. Normally such invitations wouldn’t have been sent out for them, but this was a special occasion after all.

It was the first winter holiday season for their son.

Jack Drake beamed at his wife from across the room. He was out on the balcony smoking a cigar with a few old college friends while his wife was inside, chatting with a few of her own sorority sisters while holding Timothy in her arms. The boy seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by all the noise and people, but Timothy was always a quiet child and clung to his mother if any stranger came too close. It was just as well. Jack noticed that while Janet was all for proudly showing off her prized jewel, she was not eager to let anyone else hold the boy.

“You’d think she was afraid someone was going to try and walk off with him,” Jack’s friend Steven laughed into his glass of brandy as he hip checked Jack in a friendly gesture.

Jack chuckled. “Janie’s a little overprotective. Can’t blame her. After three miscarriages, we’d just about given up hope.” He regarded his wife and son fondly. “Timmy’s our little miracle baby.”

“Are you sure about that?”

It felt as if someone had just poured a glass of ice water all over Jack’s good mood. He glanced at Steven out of the corner of his now narrowed eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steven drained the last of his brandy, and idly Jack wondered how many of those glasses his old friend had consumed that evening. “I’m just saying… Sure the kid is cute and all, but have you noticed that he doesn’t quite look like either you or Janie?”

Jack bristled. When he spoke, his tone was cold enough to match the temperature there out on the balcony. “If you hadn’t noticed, most five month old babies don’t look like much of anyone except themselves.”

His friend pressed onward, though, clearly too deep into his cups to realize the hole he was digging himself into with Jack. “Yeah, yeah… but it’s still weird, isn’t it? You have brown hair and Janie’s a blonde, but that’s boy’s hair is as black as pitch.” Steven grabbed a passing glass of wine after setting down his empty brandy glass. “And his eyes. I heard Karen mention it earlier tonight, but she says the baby has blue eyes, and last I checked your eyes are brown and Janie’s are hazel.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” Jack snapped as he took the glass of wine from his friend and held it out of reach. “And for your information, Janet says her grandfather, who by the way our boy is named after, had both blue eyes and black hair, so you can stuff whatever ‘the milkman did it’ theories you have floating about in your alcohol marinated brain of yours.”

Steven held up both hands in defeat. “Alright alright, Jackie… whatever you say.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit one up before gesturing to his friend. “I’m just saying… the last few years you’ve left Janie alone in Gotham while you went traipsing across the world for digs, and Gotham’s a pretty big city to be left lonely in...” Steven stared hard at Jack. “As your friend, I’m just looking out for you. All I’m asking is… are you sure that’s really your kid?”

Jack glared at Steven as he snuffed out the remains of his own cigar. “Finish your cig, Stevie. Then I think you and Karen should call it a night.”

Steven shrugged, took one final drag, and flung the cigarette into the night. And while he collected his own wife and exited Drake Manor, he left behind seeds of doubt in his wake.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4 - Worlds Keep Spinning

Chapter Text

Years go by and the world keeps spinning.

Unfortunately, miracles are few and far between for those who are forced to make their home in Crime Alley. Despite the efforts stated by the Gotham PD, the spotlight of the press, and promises by the combined network of hospitals within the city to improve security of all their neonatal units so such a tragedy never happens again, the case of the stolen newborn out of Gothamn General Hospital goes from an active case to a cold case to a forgotten case in the space of three years.

Catherine and her family never forgets though, even though the rest of the city does.

Despite never forgetting, though, the world continued to spin and time kept marching forward. Despite the tragedy of losing their baby, there was some good that came in the time after.

Willis Todd stopped drinking as much, and found a legitimate job far from the gangs run by the well-known Rogues like the Penguin and Two Face. Willis blamed himself for their son’s kidnapping. If he hadn’t been in prison, he would’ve been with Catherine in the hospital, and no one would have dared to steal Timothy from beneath his watchful eye. His job as a bouncer at a local strip club kept him out till the wee hours of the night, but it was a solid paycheck and allowed him to be home during the day when Jason came home from school while she worked during the day as a waitress at a nearby diner.

Catherine also stopped using drugs, and had been sober herself since the winter her husband returned. It hadn’t been easy, but with the support of both her husband and son, she was able to keep away from her old dealer while they helped her cope with the grief of their horrible loss.

She would never forget her stolen baby, but even she realized that she needed to keep moving forward, one step at a time, for the son she still had and who still needed her.

Catherine managed a genuine smile as she saw her eight year old boy racing down the steps of his school to her. It was a nice surprise for him. It was rare for her to have the afternoon off. Jason hugged her tight and showed her the perfect score he got on a spelling test. She savored the happiness she felt as her son went on to tell her about his day as they walked home together.

When they finally got home, Willis was just waking up to start his day. Their dinner was his breakfast and they sat together as a family to eat. Willis still had bad days from time to time, especially if his co-workers managed to talk him into a few drinks after last call at the club, but today was a good day.

The pain of losing Timothy would never completely fade, and their lives would never be easy, but as the days… months… years moved onward, it became bearable.

However small and battered it was, they were still a family, and Catherine would do what she could to make everything work. She owed that much to the people she loved.

---

Years go by and the world keeps spinning.

A marriage sabotaged by a self-inflicted wound begins to fall apart… poisoned by lies… infected with suspicion. A husband suspected his wife of infidelity, never realizing her true crime was far, far worse.

On the surface, the Drake family looked to be as successful as any who lived among the wealthy elites of Gotham City. Jack and Janet were successful archaeologists who traded in antiquities to museums and auction houses around the world. In the society pages and online on social media, the pair looked every bit the successful power couple with their perfect home, perfect marriage, perfect family, and perfect lives.

Beneath the surface, though, the marriage festered. It became quite clear that Jack did not trust leaving his wife home alone while he went on digs that took weeks or months to oversee, though even he couldn’t quite argue for his wife to join him while Timothy was still in his toddler years… yet. His trips overseas seemed to get longer and longer, and his stays back in Gotham, and more frought with arguments between him and his wife.

Chafing under her husband’s distrust, Janet did what she did best.

She lied.

“Jack and I are doing just fine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

“Motherhood is treating me well. Timothy is such a good child. Raising him has been a dream.”

“I’m so happy! Life couldn’t be better.”

Through it all, Janet was completely oblivious to the wide eyed toddler who watched his mother lie with nearly every breath she took. He was still so young, just a little over three years old, but his mother confused him.

She said she was happy, but he rarely saw her smile when they were alone.

She said raising him was like a dream, but why would he hear her whisper, “I don’t deserve you. This is a nightmare,” when she thought he was asleep?

She said Dad and her were fine, but whenever he was home all they did was fight.

But this was normal, right?

Chapter 5: Chapter 5 - Background Noise

Chapter Text

Catherine pulled her thin coat tighter around her as she waited at a crosswalk with several other people on her way to the diner where she worked. She looked up at the gray skies as a warm puff of air escaped her lips and a cold breeze carried it away. The first snows would be starting anyday now. She made a mental note to stop by the thrift store on her way home to get a warmer coat and some sweaters for Jason. He’d grown so much since he turned eight, and she knew most of his things from last year would be far too small. She had a feeling this winter was going to be colder than previous years. Fortunately, with the combined income from her work and Willis’s jobs, there was enough extra to spend on some decent winter clothes this year, at least new coats for each of them.

The traffic lights shifted color, and the glowing red hand was swapped for a green man in motion.

People from both sides of the street began to move as one towards the middle as they made their way to the opposite sidewalk.

Most of the strangers were silent. Some were talking on their phones or each other, their idle chatter relegated to background static in her ears as she walked as quickly as she could to get to the other side, weaving this way and that to avoid running into anyone on the street.

Normally, Catherine didn’t pay attention to the chatter of people around her.

Except…

“Timothy! Please watch where you’re going!”

Catherine had just reached the opposite sidewalk when the sound of that name sent a pang straight to her heart and made her pause. She couldn’t help it. No matter where she was or what she was doing, that name always drew her attention, even three years after that horrible day. She always had to look for the source, even when she knew she wouldn’t find what she was looking for.

Except…

It was a little boy. He’d tripped over the curb while following his mother and was struggling not to cry. Beneath a crown of black hair, his bright blue eyes glanced up pleadingly. Catherine followed the line of his gaze, and her heart froze in her chest.

That woman….

That blonde hair…

That face…

Even though she was dressed in clothes that were clearly worth more than Catherine made in an entire month, Catherine could still see the pale blue nondescript scrubs she’d worn THAT night before her baby was stolen from her life.

Catherine’s vision became blurry as her heart restarted, thudding loudly in her ears. Her vision and hearing tunneled down to just the two people on the opposite side of the street, watching in growing horror as the woman rolled her eyes with exasperation before kneeling down to pick up the child and started walking away.

“Give… give him back.”

One foot moved forward… And suddenly she was running…

“Please! Give him back!” Catherine tried to cry out.

But no one could hear anything over the sound of honking horns and suddenly squealing brakes.

---

Janet never turned around.

The sound of the city around her was just background static in her ears.

Timothy heard everything, though.

He could only watch awkwardly over his mother’s shoulder at the commotion now taking place further and further behind them.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6 - Happy Birthday 02

Chapter Text

“Click!”

“Click!”

“Click!”

The press of the button and the subtle feel of the shutter flickering open and shut within the hard plastic shell was so satisfying in the peaceful quiet of the night.

Well… as peaceful and quiet as a night could be in Gotham City.

Though it was the middle of summer and most nights were muggy, there had been an earlier afternoon rainstorm that blew through, cooling everything down considerably and clearing away quite a bit of the usual haze of air pollution.

It was the perfect opportunity for night shots!

The bright eyed ten-year old boy pulled the camera down and scanned the skyline from his current perch on top of a rooftop AC unit and sighed. The shots he got were good, but if he could just get a little bit higher…

He swept the area visually until he zeroed in on a rooftop water tank that stood much taller than anything else in a several block radius.

“That’ll work,” the kid whispered to himself with a small grin.

After securing his camera, the boy began to indulge in a bit of light parkour as he maneuvered from one rooftop to the other, using fire escapes, fences, and random vehicles parked in alleyways to get from one point to another. It was pretty easy to get to the rooftop with the water tank.

Scaling the water tank, however, was a completely different matter.

The entire framework holding the tank was made of metal, and the sole ladder that led up the side of the tank was narrow, rickety, and still somewhat slick from the earlier rains. The boy took a breath to stead himself as he started climbing. The first few feet weren’t so bad. However, as he got further up the side of the tank, he could feel the ladder begin to tremble, and creak beneath his hands and feet.

He paused halfway up. Even just holding still was making the ladder groan in a way that made the boy’s heart leap into his throat. He looked around himself. Should he go back down? But he’d already come so far? Should he continue up? But the ladder was so unstable…

Then the ladder made the decision for him.

A sharp ominous popping/snapping sound caught his attention. With a gasp of alarm, he saw that some of the bolts holding the upper part of the ladder had snapped off and now the whole thing was falling away from the tank!

Frantically, the kid tried to climb back down, but his foot slipped on the wet ladder step and suddenly he found himself losing his grip and falling backwards.

“NO!”

The boy closed his eyes tightly as a terrifying weightless feeling engulfed him.

“GOTCHA!”

Something firm grabbed him by the wrist and reflexively, the boy grabbed back as tightly as he could. His eyes snapped open, wide with fright and alarm. He was dangling nearly helpless in the air hundreds of feet off the ground.

But he wasn’t falling anymore.

Looking up, he saw a hand clad in green leather holding his arm. He followed the arm up and his eyes went wide as he recognized a very familiar red leather tunic emblazoned with letter R and framed by a black cape lined in gold.

“You’re--”

The teeanger behind the black domino mask gave the kid a cheeky, confident grin. “--making sure you don’t turn into street pizza.” With his other hand, the teenager pressed a button on some sort of grapple gun and used it to hoist both him and the kid upward until they were finally able to set feet firmly on the top of the water tower.

“There we go. Safe and--OOF!” The masked teenager was cut off when the boy collapsed into him, holding him tightly and burying his face against his chest. His face softened behind the domino and he knelt down to give the trembling kid a proper hug. “Hey now… it’s ok kiddo. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Several long minutes passed before the boy could finally lift his head and regard his savior. “Thanks… Robin.”

Robin smiled. “Feeling better?”

The boy nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“So tell me,” Robin took a seat next to the kid. “What’s a squirt like you doing falling off of watertowers at midnight in Gotham? What are you, like, seven? Eight?”

The boy’s face shifted to something a little more indignant. “I’m ten!”

“Oh! Sorry… but even ten year olds shouldn’t be out this late.” Robin’s expression became more concerned. “Are you in trouble?”

“No!” The boy quickly shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Then why?”

The kid sat down and fiddled with some of the switches on his camera. “Mom and dad were fighting earlier. I just wanted to take a walk away from it… and it’s a nice night, and I decided to take some photos.”

While Robin gave the boy a sympathetic look at the mention of his fighting parents, he scoffed a little at the rest of the statement. “Night photos in Gotham City?”

“Sure!”

Robin laughed. “This really ain’t the most photogenic city in the States.”

“Shows what you know,” the boy sassed back confidently. He swept his arm out toward the view of Gotham in front of them.

Quietly, Robin followed the boy’s motion and gaze, and he blinked. There was a small smattering of stars in the clear night sky, with the moon out in full view shining over the city. This high up, Gotham City looked almost… beautiful.

“Wow…. I guess you were right. Shows what I know.”

“Click!”

Robin looked next to him and watched as the kid held his camera to his eye and snapped a few photos. Once he was done, the boy sighed with contentment and hugged his camera to his chest.

They sat there for a moment in comfortable silence as Robin let the boy lean against him, using his cape as a makeshift blanket to keep him warm. Eventually, though…

“It’s getting late. Let’s get you home.”

“You’re gonna walk me home?” The boy’s eyes went wide as saucers.

Robin laughed as he stood up and reset a new cartridge in his grapple gun. “Robins don’t walk… They fly.”

---

A few exciting minutes later, Robin carefully set the boy down on the balcony of his bedroom. Though the light was on in the boy’s room, all other lights were turned off.

“Mom and Dad must’ve gone to bed already,” the kid said as he glanced between two different windows on opposite sides of the well-to-do brownstone he lived in next to Robinson Park.

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” Robin asked, voice full of quiet concern.

The boy nodded. “Mom and Dad yell at each other a lot, but they don’t do anything bad to me… I… just don’t like being around their fighting.”

There was a startled moment where Robin ruffled the kid’s hair in a comforting gesture.

“I understand.”

The kid’s eyes teared up a little as he looked into Robin’s face.

“You do… don’t you?”

Robin nodded. Then he hugged the kid. “If it every gets really bad, don’t stick around and risk getting hurt. My patrol runs near that watertower nearly every night. Flag me down if you need me, ok?”

The boy nodded.

Robin began to reload his grapple gun again.

“Wait!”

The teenager turned around. The kid was blushing faintly in the light from his bedroom, but he was holding his camera. “Can… Can I take a picture of you?”

Robin glanced out into the night at a nearby dark shadow. The shadow appeared to nod slightlhy. Robin smiled. “How about I do you one better.”

Before the kid could ask what was going on, the teenage vigilante held his hand out for the camera. After a quick study of it, he pulled the boy in close and held the camera out at arms length facing the both of them. Once the photo was snapped, the boy quickly snagged the camera back and turned on the digital viewfinder so he could preview the image.

“Did it turn out?”

The boy looked up at Robin with a bright smile before nodding.

“Thank you… So much! This is the best! You’re totally my favorite Robin!”

Robin laughed at that. “Well, gotta get back to work. You take it easy kid. I’ll see you around.” And with that, Robin flew off again into the night, meeting up with a black shadow that joined him in disappearing from the rooftops.

Timothy Drake watched them until he knew he’d completely lost sight of them. Then he looked down at his camera, a wistful smile still on his face.

“Best birthday ever!”

Chapter 7: Chapter 7 - Happy Birthday 03

Chapter Text

As they swung away from Robinson Park, Batman noticed Robin lagging behind a little. He came to a stop on the roof of a Catholic cathedral and dutifully his partner followed. Once they were safely nestled in the shadows of the spires and gargoyles, he placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder when he noticed how Robin immediately pulled at his mask to wipe away tears that had both weakened the adhesive that held it in place and was obviously affecting his vision.

“Are you alright?”

Robin… no… Jason…. He finished wiping at his eyes and took a shaky steadying breath.

“I’m fine. Just need a moment.”

Jason sank down to the roof, leaning against the gargoyle, head bowed.

“The boy… He’s the same age Tim would be if…” Jason sniffled and shook his head. “It’s after midnight right? Today would’ve been his birthday.”

Batman’s expression softened beneath his cowl. He carefully took a seat next to Jason in the shadows and pushed back his own mask, drawing the fifteen year old boy into a side-armed hug.

Jason drew up his knees and buried his face in his arms. “I never even got a chance to meet him, but I miss him so much. God I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not,” Bruce reassured him. “And we’ll find him. I promise you.”

Jason shook his head. “The cops gave up after three years. It’s been ten now. It’s impossible.”

Bruce held his adopted son and said nothing for several minutes. Then, when he finally spoke…

“Want to call it a night early?”

Jason looked up. “Are you sure?”

Bruce nodded with a small reassuring smile. “It’s been pretty quiet, and short of an Arkham breakout, I think we can afford a night off. Besides… you’re going to be visiting your mother later, right?”

The teenager sighed. “Yeah…” Quietly, Jason replaced the domino over his eyes while Bruce pulled his cowl over and they reversed course towards where the Batmobile was parked.

---

“I met a great kid last night,” Jason said as rearranged the flowers in the vase carefully. Sunflowers… Catherine’s favorites. Jason smiled a little. “You wouldn’t believe what he was doing. Apparently night photography in Gotham City is actually a thing. Can you believe it?”

Despite his attempt at self control, Jason felt his eyes mist up with tears again. “He’s the same age as Tim would’ve been. He nearly got hurt falling off a building, but I was there.” Jason closed his eyes and relived the moment. “I caught him… I saved him, Mom…”

He sighed. “I know, you’d be worried sick if you could see even a fraction of the sh*t I do now with Bruce… wearing the R… But… I hope… maybe… deep down you’d be proud of me.” Jason sniffled and wiped his eyes before any tears could fall. “I’m making a difference. I can help people in a way not even the cops can, especially in our old neighborhood. I.. I hate that it took that car accident and Dad going off the deep end with Two-Face’s gang to put me on the path to Bruce, but… but I think this is for the best.”

Jason fiddled with the flowers again, caressing the golden petals gently. “Still… I’d give it all up if it meant I could have you back. I… I miss you so much.”

The teenager straightened his spine and took another deep breath. Then, he glanced over to the figure lying deep in sleep on the hospital bed next to him. It had been seven years since the day of the car accident that put Catherine Todd into a coma she seemed doomed to remain locked in. By now all of the horrible surface injuries appeared to have healed. The doctors said she was physically alright, but her brain activity was… not vegetative, but there was no way to tell when she would wake up.

...if ever…

Jason shook his head. WIllis Todd had gone off the deep end. Unable to pay for his wife’s medical bills with his legitimate job’s paychecks, he’d fallen back in with the gangs and gotten himself killed on a botched Two Face job. After living on the streets for a few years between bouncing between foster homes, eventually history took it’s course.

A certain vehicle had tires that were too inviting not to steal…

A certain vigilante’s Robin had just flown the nest…

A certain orphan found himself a new home and a new life the likes of which he could never have dreamed…

Jason bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I’ll keep doing the best I can. Fight the good fight at night. Get good grades. If you’re not awake by the time I graduate, I’m going to go to med school and i’ll find a way to bring you back…. or at least make sure no one else has to go through all this like you and me.”

He finally stepped away from the bed and moved to the hospital room door. Before stepping through it, to where both Bruce and Alfred were waiting, Jason turned to his mother. “I love you.”

Chapter 8: Chapter 8 - ADitF +TKJ

Chapter Text

Although it was the middle of summer and school had been out for several weeks, seventeen-year-old Jason Todd-Wayne had his nose buried in an SAT prep book. Though his junior year had just ended and his GPA was in the top five percent at Gotham Academy, the 1499 he scored on his last round of SATs really irritated the hell out of him.

It was a really good score…

But that one f*cking point…

He wanted to crack 1500 as badly as he'd wanted those damned tires when he was twelve.

"Hey Little Wing!"

Jason barely acknowledged his twenty-two year old adopted elder brother entering his bedroom with a distracted wave of his pencil hand as he frowned at a particularly tricky math problem in front of him. His spatial awareness tingled a little as he noted idly that his brother had walked in and closed the door behind him before leaning against it casually.

Too casually.

Jay tore his attention away from the math problem and gave his older brother a look."What do you want Dick?" he asked, not even bothering to mask the suspicion in his tone.

"Can't a fella just stop in to say hi to his little brother?"

Jason just stared at Dick, a deadpan expression on his face. Dick winced.

"Oohh… That is almost a perfect carbon copy of Alfred's 'cut the bullsh*t' look."

"Is it working?"

"Almost."

"Oh my f*cking god Dick! Get to the damned point." Jason began twirling the pencil in his hand as if contemplating turning it into a makeshift dart.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Well… I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“Okay?”

“Hypothetically--”

The moment that word left Dick’s mouth, Jason’s eyes widened. “sh*t,” he swore as he facepalmed.

“What?” Dick asked, confusion clear on his face.

Jason shook his head. “Every time you start off a question with the word ‘hypothetically’--” the teenager started, even making the air quotes to emphasize his point. “--you end up telling me something that’s going to royally piss off Bruce and set him in mood for the next several weeks that I’m going to have to deal with because unlike you, I don’t have my own apartment to skip off to after the sh*t has hit the fan.”

“Not every time…”

Jason just glared pointedly at his brother, who finally rolled his eyes skyward with a sigh.

“Can I talk to you or not, Jay?”

Jason groaned, but he took a moment to mark his place in his study guide, and set down his pencil before he was tempted to turn it into a stabbing implement. Then he fully faced his brother, arms crossed over his chest.

“Fire when ready. What kind of hornet’s nest are you kicking into the manor this time?”

Dick took a breath and turned his gaze out the window at the night sky beyond the Manor walls, clearly uncomfortable with meeting his younger brother’s gaze. “I… I dropped out.”

Jason blinked, eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. “You quit the university? When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Jason’s posture relaxed, and his expression softened. “Why?”

Dick shrugged. “Just… nothing was really clicking at college. Wasn’t helping that missions with the Titans kept getting in the way.” He hung his head slightly. “Practically failed over half my classes and those I didn’t bomb I barely squeaked by the skin of my teeth.”

“Man… I’m sorry Dick. Had no idea.” Jason sighed and ran his hand over his study guide. “I was kinda afraid that if I decided to focus on uni and med school, I’d have to give up the ‘night life’. I guess this confirms it.” He cast his eyes over to Dick. “And you haven’t told B yet?”

Dick shook his head.

“Alfie?”

“You’re the first.”

Jason fidgeted with the corner of his SAT guide, riffling the pages. “Well… Honestly I don’t think B will be too upset with you dropping out, if that’s what you’re worried about. He might give you that disappointed look, but it’s not like he has much room to talk.” Jason shrugged. “While B has a few honorary degrees now because of Wayne Enterprises and his charity work, Alfie told me that he dropped out of university himself after his second year to travel the world and go ‘find himself’ before deciding to become ‘vengeance and the night’.” Then he raised his eyebrows at Dick. “But you know all that. So why are you talking to me before Alfie or B?”?

Dick shrugged, moved off the door he was leaning against and went to sit, then lay back, on Jason’s bed, staring at the ceiling. “Was hoping to pick your brain on what I should do next.”

Jason blinked at his brother.

Dick looked at him and chuckled. “You have it all together Little Wing. Of the two of us, you’re the man with the plan. You’ve known exactly what you wanted from the moment you met B and you just go and get it.” Dick sighed. “But I… I don’t have a plan. I just know what I like to do, what I’m good at, but that doesn’t exactly translate to civilian day job skills without having to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions.”

The teenager looked at his brother for a long moment, as if he was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Then his expression shifted to something guarded and wary. “Are you… wanting to become a full time vigilante? Like sanctioned by the League and everything?”

Dick made an indecisive face. “Yes… No… I dunno…” He buried his face in his hands with a groan of frustration.

Jason shook his head. “And there’s the hornet’s nest.” He looked at his brother. “You know how Bruce feels about the Justice League. Sure he’s close with Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana, and occasionally he’ll join them for missions or authorize funds for equipment and such if they ask. but he doesn’t really trust anyone else there. Hell, you weren’t here the last time a Leaguer showed up in Gotham unannounced.”

“How bad was it?”

Jason smirked at the memory. “Have you ever seen a Green Lantern near piss himself?”

Dick stared at his brother incredulously. “How--?”

The teenager laughed. “Apparently Lantern Rings don’t have any failsafes… at least they didn’t… against sneaky people with sticky fingers.”

“Did you--?!”

Jason shook his head. “I wish, but I’m not THAT good. B did it. The look on Hal Jordan’s face when his Lantern gear went poof-gone and he was in his civvies staring down the effing Batman.“

Dick shared a laugh with Jason, but as the laughter faded, Dick stared back up at the ceiling.

“Would it really be so bad if I joined the Justice League?”

“Dick…”

“B trusts me with the Titans…”

“Because the Titans are YOUR team, Dick. YOU founded the team and YOU are their leader.” Jason sighed. “B trusts YOU. He doesn’t trust THEM.”

Before the conversation could move any further, there was a sharp knock at the bedroom door. As Bruce Wayne stepped into the room, both Dick and Jason sat at attention. “B?”

Bruce paused in surprise as his eyes drifted to his eldest. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were here, Dick.”

Dick shrugged. “Stopped to say hi to Jaybird first.”

“Well sorry to interrupt, but it’s good you’re here. I need all the help I can get tonight.”

Both boys immediately put on more concerned expressions. Jason because Bruce rarely pulled him away from study nights to help him in the field, and Dick because Bruce was asking for both of them, not just one or the other.

“What’s going on?”

“The Joker. He attacked Commissioner Gordon’s home an hour ago.”

“What?!” Jason was out of his chair in a heartbeat, but Dick was a little bit faster and got to Bruce first.

“What about Babs?! Is she alright?!”

Bruce grimaced. “I… I don’t know. Barbara is still in the hospital and the chatter from the police scanners hasn’t revealed anything about her condition except she’s been taken to Mercy General.”

“And Jim?” Jason asked.

“He's at the hospital. Jim wasn't at home at the time. Barbara was alone.”

Bruce turned and led the way down towards the study, both boys following closely, to the secret entrance to the Cave.

“B?”

“Yes Jay?”

“Do you think the Joker knows Babs and Batgirl are the same person?”

Bruce paused at the now open doorway into the Cave. His expression was grave. “I don’t know…”

Chapter 9: Chapter 9 - One Bad Day

Chapter Text

A̶l̷l̴ ̵i̴t̷ ̴t̷a̷k̶e̸s̵ ̷i̷s̵ ̷o̵n̴e̶ ̸b̴a̸d̵ ̷d̸a̴y̸.̸
̶
̷A̶l̸l̷i̶t̵t̸a̶k̶e̵s̵.̴.̷.̷.̵.̸.̴.̶.̶.̵.̵.̴.̵.̸.̴.̶.̵.̷.̴ ̶i̵s̶o̵n̷e̴ ̵.̶.̸.̶.̷.̷.̵.̴.̸.̸.̸.̸.̶b̷a̷d̵d̵a̸y̵.̸
̴
̵A̵l̷l̸ ̸i̶t̴ ̴t̴a̵k̷e̷s̵.̸.̶.̴.̷ ̸A̴N̵D̷T̵A̸K̶E̷S̵ ̴…̶ ̴a̶n̶d̴ ̶T̵A̷K̵E̴S̵.̶.̷.̷
̵
̷ ̴ ̷ ̸ ̶ ̴ ̵ ̴ ̴ ̷ ̵ ̴ ̵ ̸O̶n̵e̸b̶a̵d̸d̴a̵y̵.̴ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̴ ̴
̶
̴O̴n̴e̷ ̶ ̶ ̷ ̸ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̴ ̶ ̶B̵A̸D̶ ̸d̸a̷y̸!̵ ̸ ̸ ̵ ̶ ̷ ̷ ̴ ̶ ̴ ̷ ̴ ̸ ̶ ̵ ̵ ̸ ̷ ̴ ̵ ̶ ̵ ̷ ̶ ̷
̴
̷ ̸ ̵ ̶ ̶ ̷ ̷ ̵ ̵ ̴ ̷ ̷ ̴ ̵ ̶ ̷ ̴ ̸ ̷ ̶ ̵ ̶ ̴ ̷ ̸ ̸ ̶ ̵ ̵ ̷ ̴ ̶ ̷O̸N̵E̶ ̶B̵A̵D̷ ̶D̷A̸Y̵!̵!̵!̴

Batman felt a shard of ice course down his spine as he looked over the crime scene that was Jim Gordon’s home with his daughter Barbara. The words had been written in the poor girl’s blood all over the walls of the living room where she’d been found. The entire scene was easily one of the most disturbing he’d viewed since donning the cape and cowl.

He felt, more than saw or heard, his eldest lean in closer behind him.

“Jesus…” Nightwing breathed out in the barest of horrified whispers.

“You don’t need to be here--”

“Babs is family,” NIghtwing insisted softly. “I want to be here.”

Batman nodded, his mouth a grim line.

Nightwing hesitantly nudged himself away from Batman’s shadow so he could get a closer look at the crime scene, gingerly walking over the blood spatter patterns on the carpet and broken furniture. “I don’t see any clue hinting that he knew about Babs’s ‘side hustle’.”

“Neither do I, but that means nothing. He may just be keeping that card close to his chest or up his sleeve.”

The younger vigilante turned his attention back to the now rust colored words scrawled all over the walls. “What do you think this means? One bad day?”

The Dark Knight felt the growing tension coiling tighter in his chest. “Not completely certain, but perhaps it means this is only the start?”

“Start?”

“A full day is twenty-four hours… And it’s only been two… maybe three since this attack.” Batman motioned for his eldest to follow, and they both silently slipped out of the crime scene and back into the night. “I don’t think the Joker is done yet.”

---

Jim Gordon stepped out of the hospital and tapped out a cigarette as he walked to the area designated for smokers well beyond the Emergency Dept doors. Once he was in the out of the way rest area, all by himself as he leaned against a large oak tree, he brought the cigarette up to his lips and lit it with a slightly shaking hand. Once he’d taken a long drag and exhaled slowly, he let his eyes drift to the darkest shadow of the tree’s lower limbs.

“Your boss already on the case?” he murmured.

From the shadows of the tree, Robin met Jim's gaze. "You know he is. All hands on deck for this one." There was a momentary pause. "How's your daughter?"

Jim bowed his head, suddenly looking far older than his fifty-something years. "Still in surgery."

The teenager gave Jim a sympathetic look. "B will find him," he said reassuringly. "He'll bring him in, just like always."

"I hope he doesn't."

Robin jerked his head back slightly, as if he'd just been slapped. "What?"

"I want to find the clown myself."

"Commissioner… I don't underst--"

"The Bat doesn't kill."

Robin froze as Jim stared at the glowing ember at the end of his cigarette.

"It's admirable, most of the time," Jim mused. "To have that line he won't cross. Sometimes, a second chance is something a criminal needs to get their priorities straight or the mental help they need."

Robin swallowed hard. "But…"

Jim sighed deeply. "The Joker isn't a criminal." The old law man's eyes narrowed angrily at his cigarette as it burned down to the filter. "He's a mad rabid dog whose only purpose in life is to maim and infect and destroy."

Robin watched as Jim dropped the remains of his cigarette to the gravel and snuffed it out under his shoe.

"I hope the Bat doesn't find the Clown," the old man echoed. "As soon as I know Barbara's fate, for better or for worse, I'm going to put down that mad dog once and for all… for the sake of everyone in this city."

Chapter 10: Chapter 10 - Worth Two in the Bush

Chapter Text

Robin stood at the top of the hospital building, looking over the entire medical center campus. It was strange being alone without either Batman or Nightwing at his side, and his earlier conversation with Commissioner Gordon still disturbed him. At least his father and brother were in his ears on the comms.

“Yeah. No update on Babs’s condition yet, but Commissioner Gordon’s a wreck. I’ve never seen him like this B. Any news on the Joker?”

“Nothing yet. We’ve just left the crime scene. We’re going to canvas the area to see if we can find any clues on how the Joker arrived and how he left. “

“I can be there in ten--”

“No. I want you to stay close to the hospital. Keep an eye on Barbara and Jim.”

“You think the Joker will try to make a move on them here in the hospital?”

“The Joker seems to have plans that may span a twenty-four hour period from the moment he attacked the Gordon home. Not sure if it’s just 24 hours for the city or 24 hours for the Gordons specifically. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Robin sighed. “Understood B.”

“Check back in 30, and be careful.”

“Yes sir.”

“Batman out.”

Robin sighed and stared out into the night. He hated the waiting game, but what else could he do at this point. He had a job to keep Barbara and her father safe.

Then he noticed a suspicious movement from the hospital parking garage next door. Some figures were running between the parked cars. One of them dropped something…

...with a set of binoculars, Robin saw that it was a rubber clown mask.

---

From a heavily shadowed alleyway across the street from the hospital parking garage Robin was swinging to the roof of, a slow grin crept over the face of a pale lanky man.

“When the Bat’s away…”

---

Using the spectrograms built into the lenses of their masks, Batman and Nightwing scanned the surrounding area. Despite the darkness, they were able to see a few faint footprints leading away from the house towards a small garden area in the back yard of the Gordon home. The only reason they could see them was because one of the Joker’s shoes had stepped into Barbara’s blood and left a trail away from the house.

However, as they approached the garden, they heard an unusual high pitched chirping noise.

Nightwing was the first to spot the thing that was out of place. “B. Look at this!”

Once Batman had come closer, he saw the macabre clue.

Nestled among the branches of a rose bush was severed mannequin hand, like the wooden kind used by artists…

...and closed in the hand, trapped because of the way the fingers were all glued together, was a frantic terrified bird, struggling wildly to try and free itself.

Nightwing looked ill as he stared at the disturbing sight. The leather of his glove creaked as he clenched his fist tightly in anger. “What the hell--”

“No…”

The whispered word from Batman caught Nightwing’s attention. When he turned to his father, he was startled by the look of alarm he could read on the older man’s face. It sent a chill down his spine. “B? What’s wrong?”

Batman shook his head and brought a finger up to his ear to activate his comm link, even as he began reaching for his grapple gun. “Robin! Come in Robin! Status report!”

---

Batman’s words from Robin’s comm link earpiece made the device buzz and vibrate uselessly against the concrete parking garage floor, resting amidst broken glass and debris from nearby damaged cars as well as splatters of blood.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11 - The Killing Joke

Chapter Text

Hours passed… Night turned into day… Day into night once more…

No one slept.

One father learned his only daughter would never walk again.

Another father didn’t know where his youngest son was.

Both fathers were hunting for the Clown for their own reasons.

And the Clown… The Clown just laughed

...and laughed…

…and laughed…

---

The Clown left two trails of breadcrumbs. One for the Bat and one for the Cop.

Led them both on a merry chase around the city.

Taunting the Cop… Staying just out of reach… So close yet so far…

“Why are you mad? I thought you’d be happy? Now you’ll always know where you baby girl is! Didn’t I do you the BEST favor?! You should be THANKING ME!”

Taunting the Bat… Hide and seek and a shell game all in one…

“Where’s the birdie? Where’s the birdie? Here? There? Everywhere? Nowhere? HAHAHAHAHA!”

---

Dick Grayson sat next to Barbara Gordon’s hospital bed during visiting hours. He held her hand, head bowed.

Barbara was awake, but she looked as if she were still locked in a nightmare.

“I’m sorry… I just don’t know. The Joker didn’t say anything about Ja--Robin… He only… He only laughed…”

---

“This will hurt you more than it hurts me.”

Jason Todd cracked his one good eye open, the only one that wasn’t swollen shut. He tried to move from his position on the cold concrete floor, but bound and broken as he was, his body stubbornly refused to do anything he wanted it to do.

Everything hurt…

Just like HE promised…

Suddenly he heard footsteps. Jason froze, trying to pretend that he was still unconscious, but it was so hard when he couldn’t help the flinch when heard the steps get closer and closer to where he laid.

Despite himself, he squeezed his eye shut, bracing himself for another blow.

...which never came.

He listened as the sound of something heavy was set on the floor next to him. There were a few faint beeps, and then the footsteps walked away.

Only once he heard the sound of the door being closed and bolted once more did Jason dare to open his eye.

A digital clock connected to a large block of explosives was blinking red numbers at him.

15:00

14:59

14:58

---

Night fell over Gotham City once more.

The Clown and the Bat faced each other down several yards apart in the heart of Crime Alley. Blood dripped from the knuckles of the Bat, but the Clown just laughed.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“All it takes is one bad day…”

“TELL ME NOW!”

The Joker noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. His bloodied maniacal grin stretched even wider.

“eheheheheh… AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“BANG!”

The sound of the gunshot echoed ominously in the Alley. Batman couldn’t help but flinch back, but his eyes behind the whiteout lenses grew wide with horror as he noticed the Clown had stopped laughing, and a flower of crimson red bloomed across the chest of the Joker. As the Clown fell forward, the image of the Cop with the smoking pistol was revealed behind him.

“No… Nonononono….” Batman murmured as he rushed forward to the fallen Rogue. “You can’t die… You can’t!”

Commissioner Gordon walked closer after holstering his weapon. “It’s done Batman. It’s over.”

Batman flipped the Clown and revealed the very dead face, still stuck in his vicious maniacal grin. Blood… so much blood… pooled beneath his cooling body.

“Not like this… No… Not like this…” The Bat gripped the dead Clown by the lapels and shook him. “Where is he?!”

“It’s over Batman! The Joker is dead!”

“It’s not over, Jim! He’s got my boy!!!”

The old commissioner’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

The Bat paid no more attention to the Cop… The Cop meant nothing to him. A stray piece of paper from an inner pocket of the Clown’s jacket caught his eye. He pulled it out.

Though the Clown’s blood soaked through half the page, the other half was still legible. It was an address.

Batman got up quickly and placed a finger to his comm link.

“Nightwing! I have an address! Go to 1524 Cen--”

But he couldn’t finish the address.

His words were swallowed up by the rumble of a distant explosion, the blast strong enough to send vibrations beneath the feet of the Bat and the Cop. Both heads jerked to the direction of the sound. The Bat’s eyes flickered between the paper in his hand.

“No… No… Not again…”

Without another word, the Bat quickly flew off into the night with his grapple gun in the direction of the blast.

The Cop…. stood in the Alley…

“What have I done?”

Chapter 12: Chapter 12 - A Death in the Family

Chapter Text

"Breaking news out of Gotham City. The infamous Rogue known as The Joker is dead.

"The Joker, true identity still unknown, was on the run after a brazen terror attack that led to the hospitalization of the daughter of Police Commissioner James Gordon. An as yet unidentified officer from the GCPD shot and killed the psychopathic clown late last night. The Mayor of Gotham City has scheduled a press conference for 10 am this-- Wait? What?"

Lois Lane, the Daily Planet News Network news anchor, paused on air as she received a message from the control room in her earpiece. Then she turned her attention to the teleprompter, which had cleared out the previous news she was reporting on and was replacing it with something completely new.

"I'm sorry. This just in. More breaking news out of Gotham City. Gotham City Police have released an announcement that there has been one more confirmed death attributed to the Joker's recent wave of terror before his death. Seventeen-year-old Jason… Todd-Wayne… son of… Bruce Wayne… was…"

Lois's words trailed off as she read the words off the teleprompter. Her expression was struggling between professionalism and devastation. After a moment, she shook her head and stood up, ripping her earpiece out of her ear. "I'm sorry… I can't… I need to find my husband." She could be heard saying before she disconnected and deactivated get mic.

As Lois stormed off the set, a producer almost tried to stop her and demand what was going on. However, a firm hand on their shoulder stopped them. They looked over and saw the stern face of their Daily Planet News director Perry White glaring at them.

“Let her go,” Perry said stoically. “She and her husband Clark Kent are close family friends of the Waynes." He sighed as he saw his ace investigative reporter meet his wife in the hallway and swallow her up in a comforting hug. “Cut to commercial and get Cat Grant on set now to cover the rest of the newcast.”

---

The death of the infamous Joker was reported as both a triumph and a tragedy. The "Mad Clown of Gotham" had finally been defeated. His death meant that his brand of terror and destruction would never be suffered by the citizens of Gotham ever again.

But the cost…

The police commissioner's only daughter had been crippled, the clown's final bullet cutting straight through her spine.

And…

Bruce Wayne's youngest adopted son, seventeen year old Jason Todd-Wayne, had been kidnapped and murdered by the clown in a warehouse explosion before he could even be reported missing. The official report was that the boy had gone out alone to meet up with his older brother for dinner and a movie, but Jason never showed up at the restaurant.

The report said that Jason must have been grabbed en route by the Joker… that Joker had plans to target the children of prominent children of law, politicians, and citizens of influence in the city…

But Commissioner Gordon himself killed the mad man before he could kidnap or hurt anyone else.

But he was too late to save Bruce Wayne's son.

---

Dressed in a somber black suit with a long black overcoat, Bruce Wayne stepped quietly into Catherine Todd's hospital room and closed the for behind him. He took a seat in the chair his son normally sat in when he visited his comatose mother and gently took her hand in his.

It looked so small and fragile in his… at least until his vision started blurring. Bruce choked back a sob as he bowed his head and placed his other hand to cover hers.

"I… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

---

Clark Kent sat in the living room of the apartment he shared with his wife and five year old son Jon, still dressed in his funeral clothes. He watched as his son played with his legos, silent until his wife sat down on the sofa next to him.

“I should’ve found him.”

“You did everything you could, Clark.”

“I should’ve searched harder.”

“The warehouse was full of lead pipes and paint in an area full of old buildings with lead pipes and paint.” Lois wrapped her arms around him. “Even Superman has his limits.”

Clark swiped his face with his hand. “I’m really worried Lois. When Bruce lost his parents, their murder drove him to become Batman. Now he’s lost a son the same way?” He gazed at his wife with despair. “What’s this going to drive him to do now?”

---

Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of his home precinct of GCPD. He stared up at the night sky that was illuminated with the Bat Signal.

He'd been turning on the searchlight every night for hours for over two weeks now.

And just like every night before, no masked vigilante showed up.

Jim slowly turned off the light and bowed his head.

---

Dick stood in Jason's room, letting his red rimmed eyes wander over everything. No one had been in the room since his little brother's death. His study guide was still on his desk, pages marked and waiting for his return.

He went over to the desk, and looked it over more closely. Jasons books… laptop… tablet… college brochures… photographs of his family…

Pictures of him with Catherine Todd, alive and well and so very young…

PIctures of him with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred…

Pictures of him with the Teen Titans in uniform at the Tower, sandwiched between Kory and Roy for a selfie.

Dick felt the tears whell up in his eyes again, but he scrubbed them away. He was here for a reason. Dick turns his attention from the desk to its drawers.

He needed something…

wanted something…

He needed a piece of his brother to carry with him or else he was going to go mad with grief.

Then… he stopped.

A second laptop?

It was tucked away in the bottom of the lowest drawer in Jason’s desk. It looked like one of the custom jobs Bruce reserved for mission work from the Cave.

But why was it in Jason’s room?

Dick pulled it out and turned it on. The generic load up screen prompted him for a password, but he knew this was a feint. Instead, he pressed Ctrl+Alt+G+T+H+M and a retinal scan was initiated from the small sensor that was tucked inside the laptop’s built in video cam.

His breath caught in his throat as various files began filling the screen.

“Oh Little Wing,” he whispered. “You told us to stop looking, but you never did.”

On the laptop screen, Dick browsed through all the work Jason had been doing on the side to try and solve his missing kidnapped brother’s cold case.

Hospital records.

Grainy CCTV security cam footage without any audio.

All the police reports that had been recorded of what the GCPD had done before the trail went dead cold and they gave up.

Over a year back, Jason had convinced Bruce and him that he didn’t want them wasting time searching for his missing brother. There had been a severe uptick in criminal activity from both the gangs and Rogues, and Jason had felt bad that they were “wasting time and resources looking for a ghost.” Bruce had promised that if Jason said the word, they would reopen the case and keep looking. Jason assured them it was alright.

Dick took it all in, and a sense of calm settled in his chest.

There was a piece of his little brother still out there. They just hadn’t found him yet.

The laptop left the room with Dick and the door was closed behind him.

---

Six months after the death of the Joker, Gotham’s city streets were deathly quiet at night. It wasn’t due to a lack of crime. Not even the death of the Joker could cause all criminals to clean up their act and become productive law abiding members of society.

No.

The streets were quiet because no one wanted to draw the attention of the Bat.

The underworld of Gotham knew something had changed. There were whispers on the wind that somehow the Clown had broken the Bat before he was killed by the Cop.

The Bat was darker now.

Angrier.

More violent.

Whereas before the Bat used to just tie up the criminals and leave them as neatly wrapped presents for the GCPD to pick up, more often than not now the cops were picking up the broken and bloodied pieces of the criminals from the alleys the following morning.

The Bat’s victims were still alive.

The Bat never killed.

But sometimes his victims wished he did.

He always worked alone now. No one ever saw Batgirl or Robin anymore in Gotham, though Nightwing occasionally made appearances with the Titans as a mentor, but only outside Gotham City. Batman never worked with the Justice League himself anymore.

He never worked with the Gotham City Police anymore either.

Where once Batman was Gotham’s Dark Knight, a protector of the innocent and brilliant masked detective who sought justice for those who slipped through the cracks and closure for victims whose crimes and gone unsolved... Now he was Gotham’s Demon of Vengence, a violent predator whose only purpose was to hunt and destroy those who chose a criminal’s path through life in HIS city. Crimes weren’t solved, but they were punished.

Everyone in Gotham City shied away from mention of The Bat: Citizens, criminals, law enforcement, and everyone in between.

Everyone…

...except one concerned thirteen year old boy.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13 - Plus ça change

Chapter Text

Though the method of Jason Todd-Wayne's death was different than that of another universe (or several), it still happened all the same.

The second Robin still died.

The Dark Knight still became a violent shadow of his former self.

A young teenager still saw their hero going down a dark path and chose to step up to try and steer them back towards the light.

For thirteen-year-old Timothy Drake, it was the least he could do to honor the memory of the Robin who saved his life when he was nine.

In this universe, though, it was also a welcome distraction from being witness to the raging dumpster fire that was parents' marriage finally collapsing in on itself.

---

There was once a time where Tim wished he didn’t have to go to Brentwood. He wished he could homeschool while travelling together with his mom and dad as they went on archaeological digs around the world for weeks at a time. They could be together, like a real family.

Now, as he stepped through the front door and was greeted immediately by the sound of Jack and Janet’s arguing echoing through the halls (again), Tim had to take a moment and rein in the reflexive desire to call back the taxi and return to the relative peace and stability of his boarding school.

Unfortunately…

One… It was the start of summer break. School was out till at least mid-August and the headmaster had made it clear no one could stay over the summer due to some long overdue renovations taking place in the dorms.

And two… Tim had something he HAD TO DO, and he needed to be in Gotham to do it.

Tim steeled himself. One long slow breath in and one long slow breath out. Then he went to find and greet his parents.

---

"How dare you!" Janet glared daggers at her husband, even as he reflected venom and spite right back at her. "How dare you accuse me of cheating on you! I would never--!""

"Yes you have! Goddamnit! Stop f*cking lying to me! I'm sick of the f*cking li--!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Yes you are!"

"Why would you even think--!"

"I know he's not mine!!!"

In a fit of rage, Jack took the manila envelope he had been nearly crushing in his hand during his argument with his wife and threw it at her. She flinched away from it instead of catching it and the contents spilled out all over the floor.

Janet knelt down to pick them up and her heart stuttered in her chest when she saw the letterhead. They were results from a DNA testing laboratory.

Then a soft muffled whimper caught her ear…

Jack's as well…

Both turned around to see their only son staring at them from the doorway to the kitchen in shock, hand clamped tightly over his mouth, blue eyes filling with tears.

"Tim!" Janet choked out as her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, as her son gave her the same look of betrayal she'd been dreading from her nightmares for the past thirteen years.

The expression on his son's face was enough to cut through Jack's rage, at least for the moment. Regret lined his face. "Timothy… I…"

The young teenager shook his head. Before either of his parents could do anything, he sprinted for the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Janet knelt there frozen for a moment, tears filling her eyes. The bone deep ache of an over decade's old guilt spread through her entire body over the pain she'd seen, she'd caused, to that poor child she didn't deserve.

Slowly she stood up, head bowed. "It's true… Timothy isn't your son," she quietly admitted to her husband. Cautiously she met her husband's stern gaze. "But it's not for the reason you think."

"Janet?"

The woman shook her head. "Not now. We need to find Tim and make sure he's ok. I'll… I promise I'll tell you everything after we get to the dig site in Haiti."

Jack absorbed his wife's words in silence before nodding. "Let's go find Tim."

---

The sun set over Gotham City, but the teenager sitting atop a nearly forgotten water tower barely noticed. He'd managed to climb up without incident, the ladder long since repaired and made stronger since his last disastrous encounter with it.

Tim lifted his head from his arms to stare out over the Gotham skyline.

"You said… if it ever got really bad, to come here and flag you down," he whispered. Tears filled his eyes. "But you're not here anymore… Robin…" Tim buried his face in his arms again. "...Jason…"

Chapter 14: Chapter 14 - Mother and Son

Chapter Text

When Janet Drake checked on her son in his bedroom the following morning, she found him not asleep, but sitting on his windowsill, staring at the park beyond the glass. His eyes were shadowed, as if he hadn’t slept much the night before once he returned home.

“Good morning, Tim,” Janet greeted softly, her arms wrapped around herself as she stood in the doorway..

“Morning.” The teenager kept his eyes out the window.

Janet drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Missed you at breakfast.”

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.”

His mother took a step into Tim’s bedroom. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that yesterday.”

At the sound of his mother’s movement and words, Tim shifted his body more towards the window and away from her. Janet stopped.

There were several long minutes of silence. Then…

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tim asked quietly. “I understand why you wouldn’t tell Dad… But were you ever going to tell me?”

Janet blinked slowly as she gazed on her son. Her heart ached, but she steeled herself before she spoke.

“Of course,” she lied effortlessly, as easy as breathing. Then she moved closer to her son. “But I wasn’t planning to tell you until you were older.” She sat down on the windowsill next to Tim and reached out to turn his face gently towards her. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about trying to keep a secret like this from your father.”

Despite his face being turned to his mother, Tim closed his eyes. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Janet smiled gently. “Of course you are. You’re my son after all.” She moved to stroke his hair in a comforting way, like she used to do when he was little. Subconsciously, Tim leaned into her touch.

When Tim finally opened his eyes, the residual pain from yesterday was still present in his blue orbs. “Mom…” His voice broke.

“Oh love…” Janet cooed before opening her arms to him. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, Tim shifted over and allowed himself to be wrapped up in his mother’s embrace. He buried his face into her shoulder and quietly he allowed himself a quiet, near silent cry as Janet stroked his hair soothingly.

After a good half hour, Jack Drake made an appearance in the bedroom doorway. He regarded mother and son with a melancholy expression as he waited for Janet to catch his gaze. Once she did, he tapped at the watch on his wrist before continuing down the hallway, his own suitcases in hand.

Janet sighed. “Tim dear…?”

“You have to go?”

“It is time,” Janet said with a nod. “But if you don’t want me to, I can cancel--”

Tim lifted his head and sat back, rubbing his eyes as he recomposed himself. “No. It’s alright. I’m alright now. Besides, you promised to talk to Dad on this trip.”

“Are you sure Tim?” Janet looked him in the eye. “Your father and I will be gone for nearly the entire summer.”

Tim nodded. “I’m sure.” He smiled reassuringly. “I’m not a little kid anymore, and you’ve been looking forward to the Haiti dig all year. I can handle a few months on my own at home.”

Janet studied her son, concern etched on her face. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

She sighed. “Alright then.” Janet finally rose to her feet and Tim along with her. “Mrs. McIlvaine will be stopping by every other day except for the weekend to take care of groceries and housekeeping and to check in with you. If you plan on going out during the day, make sure you text her so she knows where you’ll be going and when you’ll be back. If you need anything inbetween, you have your bank card. Also, the cell service in Haiti can be pretty spotty, but I’ll make sure to call or email you to check in after we land and every few days after.”

Tim nodded.

Janet fixed him with a serious look. “I would prefer it if you didn’t leave home during the summer, but if you must, make sure you’re home before sunset and no leaving the Robinson Park area. This is still Gotham, after all.”

The teenager swallowed hard, but nodded again with a slightly discomfitted expression. “Of course, Mom,” he lied.

Janet noticed Tim’s shift in expression, but interpreted it as discomfort due to being home alone for the long summer months as well as leftover anxiety from yesterday’s unexpected revelation. She reached out to hold his face, cradling his face with her hands. “Everything will be alright, my love,” she reassured him. “The summer will pass before you know it, and when your father and I return home, everything will be back to normal, I promise.”

Tim gave her a skeptical look at her last comment, but then it wavered into something more uncertain. “When you come home…”

“Yes?”

“...Will you tell me who my real father is?”

Janet blinked at him, clearly not expecting that question. But she quickly schooled her expression and drew Tim into a hug so he couldn’t see her face. “Of course Tim,” she murmured into his hair. Then she pulled back and cradled his face in her hands again, looking him in the eyes. “You know I love you so very much, right? No matter who your father is, real or otherwise, you are always going to be my son.”

Tim felt a comforting warmth bloom in his chest, and a small shy smile curled on his lips as he met his mother’s gaze. “I love you too, Mom.”

Janet smiled and placed a kiss on Tim’s forehead. Tim walked with her, carrying her suitcases to the waiting car that was going to take her and her father to the airport.

---

Tim watched as the car pulled away from their home and towards the airport. Once his parents were both out of sight, he indulged in a huge sigh of relief.

While he was sorely tempted to ask his mother to cancel her trip and stay behind after that awful revelation yesterday, he knew he couldn’t.

He needed to be alone this summer.

He had a mission to complete and it was critical that his parents, especially his overprotective mother, were not around to restrict his movements.

Tim glanced at the sky. It was already midday. Quickly, he went back into his home and straight up to his bedroom. He cleared his entire desk and started reorganizing things. Once he was done, his small command center was finished. He carefully looked over all the information… evidence… he’d gathered together over the past six months about the Batman, Nightwing, and their missing Robin and Batgirl.

It was time…

He had all the pieces. Now it was time to put it all together and set his plan to help Batman into motion.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15 - Plus c'est la même chose

Chapter Text

The more things change, the more they stay the same at times.

Despite the fact that so much is different in this universe compared to others, some things remain the same.

A son of the Bat is murdered.

The Bat starts down a dark and violent path.

A boy steps up to bring him back towards the light.

---

The first week was one of the most nerve-wracking in Tim’s young life. Though he’d taken martial arts since he was in the first grade and indulged in a lot of parkour throughout the expansive campus while in school just to make it to his classes on time at Brentwood, roaming the streets and rooftops of Gotham City at thirteen years old was a nerve-wracking experience.

Armed with just his camera along with his phone and some basic supplies in a discreet backpack, Tim left the safety and comfort of his home nightly and tracked the Batman as best he could into some of the seedier areas of Gotham City.

Some nights were a wash.

Others, though, were both absolutely incredible and completely terrifying at the same time.

---

“Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Mac,” Tim said to the old housekeeper as he snagged the croissant sandwiches she brought him from a bakery she passed by frequently on her way to the Drake home.

“No trouble at all, Tim,” she said as she started a load of dishes. “Haven’t seen much of you this week. Seems every day I come in you’re holed up in your darkroom or stuck on your computer.”

The teenager shrugged. “I’ve been taking lots of photos of the neighborhood. And all my friends are online right now since no one from Brentwood lives around here.”

Mrs. Mac sniffed a little. ‘I suppose as long as you are getting out for a little fresh air with your photography, it’s ok for you to spend a little extra time on the computer."

Tim smiled as he snagged one more croissant. “Well I’m heading back up. Got some more things to develop.” Then he hustled up the stairs after the old woman waved him off.

Once inside the safety of his darkroom, he bolted the door and stood there in the darkness for a long moment as he breathed a sigh of relief.. Then he turned on the red light of his darkroom, and glanced over the rest of his photos currently hanging to dry. They were various night shots of Batman and his interactions with some of the lower level thugs that dared to catch his attention on the streets of Gotham.

Though the moments were frozen in time, Tim still grimaced as he reviewed the images, remembering the harsh violent blows the Bat had been inflicting upon them.

There had been three men who were clearly goons of some sort in the middle of a robbery. While tucked away in the shadow of a rooftop, Tim managed to capture multiple still images of the one sided fight.

It still shook him. The sound of the solid fists connecting with the bodies of the thugs, breaking or cracking bones benealth them. The smell of blood and other bodily fluids rising into the air. The defiant shouts giving way to frightened begging and eventually bleeding into ominous silence.

He reached over and plucked one of the fully developed photos to take a closer look as he shook his head.

“This isn’t you,” Tim whispered. “Robin wouldn’t want you to become this.”

---

It took a solid week of investigating to find out where Dick Grayson lived. It definitely wasn’t easy. While Wayne Manor was his childhood home, he hadn’t actually set foot in Gotham City since Jason Todd’s death, instead choosing to stay at an apartment in New York City with his girlfriend and Titans teammate, the supermodel Kori Anders, who was also the Titan known as Starfire.

It was only by chance when Tim was buying some snacks and soda at a local corner shop that he saw a glimpse of Dick Grayson, in shades, in the background of a tabloid photo featuring Miss Anders.

A few days later, Tim found himself sitting on a train to the Big Apple just an hour after sunrise,, fidgeting nervously.

“It’s a good thing Mom hasn’t decided to start tracking the GPS of my cell phone… yet,” he thought to himself. He checked the date on his phone. “Good thing it’s the weekend too.” Tim sighed. “Mom would kill me if she knew where I was right now.”

Chapter 16: Chapter 16 - Worth 1000 Words

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Tim was savvy enough with the internet to get an idea of the neighborhood where Kori Anders lived and pinpoint her apartment building from careful study of the various tabloid photos of her day to day life in NYC.

Unfortunately, the building where he suspected Kori and Dick lived had really good security. Strangers weren’t just allowed to just walk in like they lived there. Visitors could only get as far as the lobby. Then they had to call the apartment they were visiting and get buzzed in.

Tim sat at the cafe across the street from the apartment building, picking at his lunch while his mind ran a mile a minute. Then, as he stirred his straw in his soda glass, he realized something.

You didn’t have to get buzzed in to get close to the mailboxes.

Quickly, Tim rummaged in his backpack until he found the manilla envelope that held the photos he’d decided to bring with him from home. He flipped through them, trying to figure out which one would be best for his purpose. But in the end he frowned. None of these would do. They were all pictures of Batman from the past week being violent, and the young teenager had a feeling they wouldn’t be well received, or at least lead to the wrong impression if someone other than Dick or Kori checked the mail. Why would anyone leave a photo of Batman hovering over bleeding broken thugs in the mailbox of a supermodel and her boyfriend?

Tim sighed and quietly finished his lunch as his thoughts ground to a halt. Once his meal was over, a waitress came by with his check. When he pulled out his wallet to grab some cash, a corner of a small old photo folded into quarters caught his eye and he froze.

Gently he tugged the photo out of its resting spot and looked it over, his heart in his throat.

This… could work.

He hated the idea that if this didn’t work he could lose this photo forever, but if there was a chance he could use it to help Batman, then it was worth the sacrifice.

Tim took out a pen and began making marks on the back of the photo.

---

It was a little past midnight when Nightwing slipped into the apartment he shared with his girlfriend via the penthouse balcony. He slipped the door open quietly and stepped inside.

"Dick?"

The masked vigilante turned his head to see Kori sitting on the sofa in the living room. "I came home as soon as I could," he said as he carefully removed his mask, revealing the very concerned face of Dick Grayson. "What happened?"

His girlfriend closed the distance between them, a folded note in her hand. "I found this in the mailbox tonight when I got home. There was no envelope or address, but I'm sure it's a message for you."

Dick took the note. It had been folded into quarters. Unfolding it once revealed a handwritten message:

"I need your help."

Beneath it were GPS coordinates along with a time of 12:00 am.

Dick looked over at Kori quizzically, but she motioned for him to continue examining the note. So he did, unfolding it completely and his breath caught in his throat.

It was a very old photo of the Flying Graysons, his parents, standing beside a smiling unfamiliar couple while he was kneeling on the ground in front of them while holding a toddler who appeared to have eyes only for him.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17 - A Lonely Place

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that people caught Dick Grayson offguard these days. He prided himself on the fact that precious little could sneak up on him, whether they were criminals on the street, Rogues with plans to terrorize the city/country/world, or even just his friends trying (and failing) to prank him.

But the appearance of this particular photo from his past…

From the same night his parents were murdered…

Asking for “Dick Grayson’s” help…

Not “Nightwing”...

For the first time in a very long time, a mysterious stranger had managed to steal his breath away from him.

---

Despite the fact that the note had requested Dick Grayson’s presence at a set of GPS coordinates in Gotham City at a random building several blocks away from Robinson Park on the nice side of town at midnight, Dick Grayson was not the one staking out the location.

Ever cautious and ever vigilant, especially since he did not want to signal to Batman that Nightwing was in town again, the young vigilante lurked in the shadows of a taller office building that had full view of the GPS location. He started his impromptu stakeout shortly after 10 pm when all the business offices in the building appeared to close up shop for the night.

All was pretty quiet up until a flicker of movement up the fire escape on the eastward side of the building caught his eye. Nightwing’s breath caught in his throat and his adrenaline started to pick up as he watched as a figure wearing a dark colored hooded sweater make their way to the rooftop.

Nightwing used the telescopic night vision lenses in his mask to zoom in and brighten the image of the figure as they made their way to the roof and, curiously, began scaling the ladder leading up the side of the building’s water tower. The vigilante’s heart leapt to his throat when the stranger’s foot slipped on one of the steps, but before he could reach for his grapple, the figure righted himself and kept on climbing.

Once at the top, the person just looked around themselves, as if searching for something or someone.

Nightwing pushed himself deeper into the shadows as the figure’s gaze appeared to track over to the area he was hiding.

But he wasn’t spotted.

After another sweep of the area, the stranger pulled out a cell phone and flipped it on. Finally, by the light of the phone’s screen, Nightwing was able to get a clear view of the person’s face.

...and it was a kid?

“What the heck?” Nightwing whispered to himself. “Why’s a kid sitting on a water tower all by himself in the middle of the night in Gotham City?”

He pulled out the folded photo from his utlity belt and reviewed the message again. “Are you the messenger, or does the messenger need help from me with you?”

Suddenly a thought came to mind that sent a shock of cold down his spine.

“Wait… If this kid is the messenger, why is he waiting on the tallest point of a building for Dick Grayson to meet up with him at midnight? That wouldn’t exactly be normal unless….”

Nightwing swallowed at the lump that had risen to his throat. “...unless he ‘knew’ he could expect ‘Dick Grayson’ to look for him on a rooftop at midnight.”

As curious as he was to get answers, Nightwing stayed in the shadows, and the kid stayed on the watertower. Midnight came and went and neither figure moved for the next hour. Once 1am rolled around, the kid began to get fidgety.

He stood up and began to pace while occasionally stealing glances at his phone, most likely to check the time, Nightwing assumed. This went on for the next half hour until finally, as the time rolled over to 1:30am, the boy appeared to give up on waiting. He shoved his phone back into his hoodie pocket and began his slow careful descent down the watertower and building.

From a safe distance, Nightwing followed the kid back to his home, a nice looking brownstone in one of the nicer neighborhoods around Robinson Park. The vigilante recognized it immediately. It was one of those places where, if you were wealthy and didn’t live in Bristol, you lived here. Rather than go through the front door, though, the boy scaled a tree in order to get to a bedroom balcony where he finally slipped in and appeared to collapse on his bed in exhaustion.

Once the kid was safely home, Nightwing sat back on his heels to think. He’d come back to Gotham to find more answers about the mysterious message he’d received in New York City, but all he’d gotten for his trouble were more questions and no answers whatsoever.

With a sigh, he pulled out his Titans communicator.

“Hey Wing,” Cyborg’s, aka Victor Stone, deep baritone voice rang out in his ear. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.”

“I need a favor, Cy.”

Nightwing could hear the frown in his old friend’s voice. “Wing…”

“Cy…”

“You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“It’s turning into a bit of a working vacation.”

“How much is a bit?”

“I’m kind of in Gotham right now.”

There was a moment of pause. Nightwing could almost see his old friend pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How has Star not barbequed you yet?”

NIghtwing sighed. “She knows why I’m here. A mystery dropped into our lap yesterday with ties to Dick Grayson that needs to be investigated.”

Vic’s voice became more concerned. “Your identity… Are you compromised?”

“I… I don’t know yet,” he answered honestly. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Ok then. Whatever you need boss. What can I do?”

“Sending you an address now. Can you run it and send me everything you can dig up on the people who live at this place?”

“Sure thing. I’ll send you the packet as soon as I can get it compiled.” There was a brief pause. “Do you need any backup?”

Nightwing shook his head. “No… Better I handle this myself and solo. You know how the big B is about ‘outsiders’ in his city now. At least I know how to stay under his radar here.”

“Alright man. Be careful.”

“Will do. Nightwing out.”

Chapter 18: Chapter 18 - Paranoia

Chapter Text

"I wonder what happened," Tim thought as he absentmindedly nudged the few remaining Cheerios floating in his cereal bowl this way and that with his spoon. "Did I write down the correct coordinates? I'm sure I put the photo in the right mailbox. I know Miss Anders lives in the penthouse of that apartment building. Maybe they didn't check the mail yet?" He froze while attempting (and failing) to sink a piece of cereal. "Crap! Did I write AM or PM on the note?!"

Frantically, Tim grabbed his phone and flipped through the most recent photos. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reviewed his snapshot of the note. Then he ran his hands over his face.

"It's ok. It's ok. So he didn't show up last night. No big deal. We'll just try again tonight. If he doesn’t show up, well… Guess it’s time to come up with a Plan B…."

---

"I wonder why he needs my help," Dick said out loud as he stood in the kitchen of his safehouse and poured a bowl of cereal.

Starfire's voice came through the speaker of his phone as they video chatted. "Any clues from the info Vic sent you?"

Dick shrugged. "Not sure. The house belongs to a couple of archaeologists, Jack and Janet Drake. They have just one kid, a thirteen year old son named Tim. I'm pretty sure the kid is the one who snuck the photo into the mailbox and was waiting at the GPS coordinates last night." He set the bowl down and picked up the unfolded photo. "I’m not a hundred percent, but I think the Drakes could be the family from the photo."

Kori tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against the kitchen counter thoughtfully. “Do you think this could be related to Jason’s kidnapped brother case?”

Dick shook his head with a sad smile as he poured milk into his cereal bowl. “Wouldn’t it be nice if this kid was Jay’s baby brother? Unfortunately, the universe just doesn’t work that way.” He ate a spoonful of his breakfast. “I just don’t know. What kind of problem could a kid like this have that requires the help of a former child circus performer adopted by Bruce Wayne?”

“Family problems?”

“Hmmm… “ Dick woke up his laptop and brought up the documents Cyborg had sent him. “Maybe? It seems that his parents are both in Haiti right now on some sort of archaeological dig, but they’re not scheduled to return to the US for a couple of months.”

“They left their son home alone?”

Dick switched windows to look at other documents. “Not completely… There’s a housekeeper that comes by three times a week and from the phone records, it appears that the kid’s mother is calling at least once every few days to check in with him.”

Kori gave her boyfriend a concerned look. “But…”

“But it is concerning.” Dick completed with a frown. “If the boy is in some sort of trouble, aside from the housekeeper, he doesn’t appear to have anyone else here he can turn to for help.” His unhappy expression deepened. “And he’s from a well-off family. If any Gotham underworld scum took notice, it wouldn’t be hard at all for them to snatch the kid while no one was looking and try to ransom him or worse.”

“Especially if he’s prone to sneaking out at night to sit on random water towers for hours, or sneaking off alone across state lines to drop off photos into the mailboxes of strangers.”

"sh*t… He did do that, didn't he?" Dick swirled his spoon in his cereal bowl thoughtfully. "I think I need to meet up with this kid sooner rather than later and find out what he wants. If he's reckless enough to go this far to get my attention, who knows what he might do if he feels like he needs to take a greater risk."

---

"I wonder what's wrong with me?"

It was shortly after eleven pm as Tim made his way to the water tower. However, unlike previous nights where he wandered Gotham’s streets alone, tonight the young teenager felt… strange. He paused on the sidewalk for what felt like the umpteenth time and glanced around himself. He felt like he was being watched. However, everything seemed to be normal. It was just another night in Gotham City through the usual shopping and restaurant area he wove through in order to get to his destination. It was mostly quiet with just a few people here and there milling about the restaurants and bars that were still open.

"Come on, Tim! Get your head together! Stop being so paranoid! You can't afford to be late!"

Not seeing anything immediately out of the ordinary, Tim hiked his backpack more securely up on his shoulders and continued on his walk, though skin felt like he was crawling with every step he took, which he took more quickly than he usually did.

Tim felt his heartbeat quicken as he took a sharp turn down a dark alley and froze.

He was not alone in the alley.

There was a person standing ahead of him, as if they were waiting for him, on the opposite side of the alley. Reflexively, Tim tried to backpedal, but a quick glance back revealed to the now frightened teenager that his way out was cut off by another person as well.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19 - Collision

Chapter Text

“I can’t move!”

Tim’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men at either end of the narrow alleyway as both began to slowly close the distance between themselves and their prey. As they got closer, close enough that the boy could see the glint of a switchblade being flipped open in their hand, Tim jammed his hand into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical canister with a pin attached. As quickly as he could, he pulled the pin and threw it at the stranger closest to him and covered his eyes..

“sh*t! Grenade!”

Suddenly the quiet ominous stillness of the alley was tossed into chaos as an almost deafening BANG echoed off the walls and a blinding flash of light chased away the darkness!

Cursing under his breath, Tim opened his eyes with a wince as his ears rang painfully. He didn’t know how close the stranger behind him was, but he could see that the one in front of him was curled up on the ground, hands on his face as he seemed to be in obvious pain. Without a moment of hesitation, the teenager dashed forward past the fallen man and ran for the end of the alley.

Pushing past the onlookers who were being drawn to the alley by the sound of the flash-bang grenade, Tim paused at a crosswalk and dared to glance behind him.

His frantically beating heart leapt to his throat as he saw the two thugs stumble out of the alleyway. One of them pointed at him, and Tim’s blood ran cold.

The thirteen year old boy took off again, blindly dashing across the street and heedless of the honking and screeching of brakes from cars that narrowly avoided hitting him! Not caring where he went, only wanting to put as much distance as he could between him and his pursuers, Tim turned this way and that, dashing down alleyways and crossing streets without even thinking.

"HONK!!! HONK!!!"

Tim froze as a bright light blinded him and the sound of honking and squealing brakes set his ears ringing again. He tried to blink away the spots from his eyes, but all he saw were two painfully bright white lights bearing down quickly towards him.

---

The familiar sound of the flashbang caught Dick Grayson’s attention as he stood on the roof of the watertower building, waiting for his mysterious messenger to arrive.

“What was that?” Cyborg asked in his earpiece comm link. Even though Dick was out of uniform for this meetup, he still kept his Titans comm link open and carried a covert number of devices from his utility belt in his civilian clothing.

A bad feeling crept up Dick’s spine. “Cy. Can you hack the traffic cams southeast of my location? Look for anything unusual.”

There was a few moments of silence.

“Crap. I think your messenger’s been intercepted,” Cyborg announced as he sent a stream of the traffic cam footage to Dick’s cell phone of the commotion at the entrance to an alleyway where a boy darted out frantically, and two men followed a few moments later in pursuit.

“f*ck!” Dick swore as he quickly started running and jumping rooftops. “Tell me where I need to be, Cy!”

Quickly, Cyborg directed his friend and leader on an intercept course. Then the Titan swore again.

“What’s wrong?”

“The kid’s panicked! He tried crossing the street to lose the thugs, but he nearly got hit by a car. The assholes are still after him too! If you get down on the ground here, you can intercept the thugs when they cross the alley!!”

“RunRunRunRunRunRu--”

Dick flipped and twisted down a fire escape instead of staying on the rooftops. “Taking it to ground level!” he announced as he pulled up the hood of his own jacket and went for the alleyway entrance. His lips twisted into a savage predatory snarl as he saw his prey come into view.

Because time was of the essence, there was no flash or flair when Dick pounced on the thugs. He snagged the first asshole by the collar of his shirt and slammed him face first into the closest unforgiving brick wall he could find, knocking him out almost immediately. The thug’s partner stuttered to a stop and tried to pull out his switchblade to threaten this new attacker, but Dick was having none of it. The veteran vigilante dashed in close, disarmed the bastard, and laid him out with a brutally fast roundhouse kick.

Dick wished he had a moment to zip tie these bastards for the police, but he had no time. As soon as he was certain they weren’t going to get up again, he ran down the street on Cyborg’s instruction. He could see the boy finally just a few yards ahead!

“Hurry Wing!” Cyborg said quickly. “The kid’s trying to cross the street again!”

Dick’s heart leapt into his throat and everything seemed to slow in his vision as, to his horror, he watched as the boy got to the middle of the street and froze as an eighteen wheeler began honking and barrelling down on his position.

“RunRunRunRunRunRu--”

He could see the boy’s frightened expression as he stared at the massive vehicle.

“RunRunRunRunRunLEAP~!”

Then Dick couldn’t see anything as he leapt forward as hard and as fast as he could!

---

For a long moment, there was nothing but darkness and ringing and soreness and gasping desperately for air that didn’t seem to get into his lungs fast enough. Then, slowly, Tim opened his eyes and glanced around.

He was on the opposite sidewalk.

There was a heavy warm weight on top of him, pinning him to the ground with the way a pair of strong arms were wound around his waist.

Panic raced through his veins as he struggled to try and escape the man’s grasp. “No! Let me go!”

“It’s ok, kid,” a gentle voice whispered into his ear. “You’re safe.”

Tim froze. The voice was familiar. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and his gaze met another set of blue eyes framed with black hair.

The name “Robin” was on the tip of his tongue.

But no…

This was not his “Robin.”

“Ni--Nightwing?” Tim whispered in breathless shock.

Dick blinked at the young teenager, then sighed.

“Guess that answers that question,” he heard Cyborg mutter into his comm link. “Identity definitely compromised.”

Gingerly, Dick released his hold on the boy and eased himself into a kneeling position. “Are you ok?” He asked with obvious concern. “Anything broken or bleeding?” He lifted a hand to capture the boy’s chin, turning his head gently this way and that, checking for signs of a concussion.

Tim sat up as well, still in a bit of a daze. “I… I think I’m ok?” he said uncertainly. He glanced at his arms and winced. There was a bit of road rash from when he was tackled where his sweater sleeves had been pushed up, and he was fairly certain one whole side of his body was going to be one giant bruise in the morning.

“Hey! Is everyone ok?!” A random passerby came up to the pair of young men. He had his phone out. “Do you need me to call 9-1-1?!”

Tim opened his mouth, but it was Dick who answered. “It’s ok. We’re both in one piece.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital or anything?”

Dick nodded. “I’m sure.” He stood up with another groan. “I just need to get the kid home before he catches hell from mom for being out past curfew and playing in traffic like a f*cking lunatic.”

Tim had the presence of mind to suddenly become offended. “Hey!”

“You related to the kid?” the passerby asked.

Dick gave Tim a look and a smile that made the boy’s heart stutter in his chest a little. “Course! This little sh*t’s my brother.”

Chapter 20: Chapter 20 - Request for Help

Chapter Text

The young teenager stared at Dick for a moment in stunned silence as Tim.exe crashed in his brain.

“His brother?!”

He didn’t fully reboot and come back to his senses until he and “his brother” were walking down the sidewalk away from the crowd that had gathered around them. “Why did you say that?” he whispered to Dick, who had his arm about him in both a supportive gesture and to continue herding him forward.

Dick gave him a look. “Maybe I was trying to be nice. I imagine your mom and dad in Haiti would not appreciate getting a call from Gotham PD or Gotham General telling them their only son was nearly kidnapped and then nearly flattened by an 18-wheeler at a quarter to midnight and ended up in the hospital for observation.”

Tim’s eyes went wide. The reality of what just happened not a few minutes ago started to settle into his bones. Suddenly, the boy felt very cold and unsteady. However, a strong arm pulled him into a warm hug.”

“Shhh… It’s ok. You’re safe now,” Dick whispered to him. “Let’s get you back home.”

The rest of the journey back home turned into a bit of a blur for Tim. All he could recall was staying close to Dick as they walked down the street, then through Robinson Park. Dick might have been saying something along the way to fill the air with something other than silence, but Tim couldn’t remember the words.

It wasn’t until he found himself sitting on his bed and a warm blanket was draped over his shoulders, that he came back fully into himself with a start.

“I’m home?”

“Mm-hmm,” a voice said from the balcony doors.

Tim glanced up and noticed Dick standing there, watching him with undisguised concern. “How are you feeling?” the older man asked.

“I…” Tim wanted to say he was fine, but, “...a bit shaken up, I think,” he admitted uneasily as he unconsciously pulled the blanket closer around himself. “I’ve never had anyone chase me like that before.”

Dick’s gaze softened and he moved to sit beside Tim. The boy immediately leaned against him and reflexively the older one wrapped an arm about him. “It’s ok to feel shaken,” Dick murmured. “That was a very dangerous situation you were in.”

Tim closed his eyes and slowly released a shuddering breath. “Thank you… for saving me.”

The two of them sat there for several minutes in comfortable silence as Tim quietly processed everything and physically settled into the realization that he was now safe and relatively unhurt. Once he felt the chill leave his bones, Tim sighed.

“I owe you so much right now.”

Dick smiled reassuringly. “You don’t owe me for saving your life,” he said quietly, though he did reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small folded square. “But you do owe me an explanation for this.”

Tim felt his eyes whell up with tears as he reached for the square. Immediately he unfolded it, then pressed it to his chest, an expression of relief on his face. “I thought I’d never see this again.”

“So you are the boy I’m holding in the picture, and the adults are your parents?”

Tim nodded.

Dick sighed. “And you know who I am?”

“You’re Dick Grayson. The only child of the Flying Graysons. Bruce Wayne’s first adopted son.”

“And…”

Tim sighed. “You’re also Nightwing, leader of the Titans, and you were the first Robin to fly with Batman.”

There was another moment of pregnant silence, even on Dick’s comm link. He knew Vic was likely recording everything, but he appreciated that his friend was not chattering in his ear. “Tim?”

“Yes?”

“How did you figure it out?”

Tim refused to meet Dick’s gaze. Instead, he stood up and went to his desk. To Dick’s surprise, his hands went to his large bulletin board which was filled with school and gaming notes. He lifted the entire thing off the wall and then set it upside down on his bed.

Dick couldn’t restrain his gasp.

On the reverse side of the bulletin board was a map of evidence, clear as day, pointing out each member of his family and their evening alter egos.

Dick was at a loss for words as he scanned the board.

“Don’t worry,” Tim’s voice drew his gaze. “I plan to burn all of this after today, and I haven’t shared any of this with anyone else. No one else knows.”

“How?” Dick asked hesitantly.

Tim glanced over his map of evidence and pointed to a cluster of clipped news articles. “The death of the Joker… the shooting of Barbara Gordon… the death of Jason Todd… They all happened on the same night” Tim started. “Then there was the reported accounts of Batman being sighted around Gotham, but no one saw either Batgirl or Robin again after that event.”

The boy shrugged as he traced the lines. “At first it was just a hunch, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I was all just a horrible coincidence. But then I saw an old ViewTube video of the original Robin while looking for videos of the second Robin.” Tim smiled a little. “It was when you were maybe my age. You were in the middle of a fight and you used a quadruple flip while landing on some goon that were trying to sneak up on Batman.” The teenager’s eyes lit up as he dared a glance at Dick. “I remembered that flip… from the circus. I was in the audience when you and your parents were performing. I know I was really little, just three I think, but parts of that night were burned into my memory.” He glanced back down at the still frame of the video he’d printed out. “The ringmaster said only three people in the world could perform that move, and the other two don’t even live in the United States.”

In Dick’s comm link, he could hear Cyborg snickering. “You were such a little showoff when you were a kid,” Vic said in a muffled tone. Dick rolled his eyes at that, but it’s not like he had room to argue.

“It wasn’t easy to put all this together,” Tim continued, oblivious to Dick’s one-sided conversation in his ear. “Because you all really covered your tracks well. But when you go in with a pretty good idea of who the Robins and Batgirl are, you can find the evidence to back up your theories if you know where and what to look for.”

Dick met Tim’s hesitant gaze and shook his head. A fond smile crept up on his lips despite himself. “You’re a really clever kid, you know that?”

Tim’s face and ears began to burn at the praise. He ducked his head with a shy smile.

Then Dick’s expression sobered. “So… now the important question…” He flipped over Tim’s photo of them at the circus and tapped on the handwritten message. “Why do you need my help? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Tim’s own expression mirrored Dick’s. He suddenly looked more nervous…

Dick felt a sense of dread settle over him.

The kid looked scared.

“Tim? What’s wrong?”

Tim took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out an evenlope. He opened it up and took out most of the photos. “I didn’t ask you for help for me. I’m not in any trouble.” He reached out and offered Dick the photos. “I’m asking you to help Batman.”

The sense of dread in the pit of Dick’s stomach coalesced into a solid uncomfortable ball as he took the photos and began to look through them. His eyes widened at the clearly graphic, violent, bloody shots of his adopted father and mentor..

“What the--” he exclaimed breathlessly in shock. “Where did you get these?!”

“I-- I took them two weeks ago.”

Dick’s head snapped up from the photos to look at Tim with alarm. “You took these? But these are… How close were you to this?!”

Tim couldn’t seem to meet Dick’s urgent gaze. Instead, he motioned to his camera. “I have a pretty good collection of lenses for distance and night photos, so I was able to take the pictures from a nearby rooftop. I didn’t have to get too close…”

Dick shook his head. “Tim! This was so dangerous! You could’ve gotten hurt or worse!”

“But you wouldn’t have believed me without the photos!”

The older vigilante met Tim’s gaze, which was frightened but determined at the same time. “Believed you?”

Tim seemed to take a moment to steel his spine and moved closer so he could point out to specific photos. “Ever since the last Robin died, Batman has been going off the rails,” the boy explained. “He doesn’t work with the police anymore, and he’s been extremely violent and careless out in the city when he goes after criminals.”

Dick swallowed down his indignation at the thought of a child like Tim being so close to so much violence and took a more critical look at the photos. Unfortunately, he could see signs of what the boy was telling him through the images. He could read how much force Batman was striking his opponents with. He could see how the bodies were crumpled on the ground or against the walls… how certain limbs certainly didn’t look quite right anymore, or how there was just far too much blood both on the environment and on all persons involved, not just the criminals.

There was also something else that gnawed at his intuition… something very wrong….

“Tim? Did Batman ever catch you taking these photos, or confront you after the fact?”

The boy shook his head. “I… had a hard time sleeping most days that week” he admitted. “Kept expecting him to show up on my balcony, but he never did.”

“And how many nights were you able to catch photos like these?”

“I think those are three days worth,” Tim said. “There are timestamps on the bottom right corners. I think those have dates too.”

Dick stood up and walked to face a nearby window, staring out into the night. “This is bad,” Dick thought to himself. “Really, really bad. Not only has Bruce become more violent, but his ‘awareness’ of his surroundings is practically nonexistant. There’s no way in the past he would’ve ever been so unaware of someone… a civilian... with a camera… a KID no less… getting in so close to him or to a dangerous situation like that!”

He turned to look at Tim. “Thank you for this,” he said quietly. “I will definitely look into this.” He sighed. “I’ve been away from Gotham too long, it seems.”

Then, as Dick looked at Tim, who looked clearly relieved at the news, a question came to mind. “Why have you done all this?”

Tim blinked at him owlishly. “Why?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah. There aren’t too many people in the world who would go to these lengths to reach out to me to help Batman, especially now that he’s changed so much.” He glanced back at the photos. “So why did you?”

Tim’s face flickered with some emotion that Dick couldn’t quite catch. Then he went to his desk and pulled out a photo that was hidden inside, nestled in a nice wooden frame, like a treasure. “I did it for him,” he said as he offered the photo to Dick.

The older man couldn’t help the whimpering gasp that escaped his lips before he could cover his mouth as he looked at the photo of a much younger Tim smiling with “his” Robin.

“Jason…”

Tim wrapped his arms about himself tightly, eyes downcast. “He saved my life once,” the boy admitted. “I was an even stupider kid than I was now apparently and nearly got myself killed trying to climb that water tower I was trying to get us to meet at.” He sniffled a little but pressed forward. “He saved my life, brought me home, and even let me take a photo of us together. And I could never figure out a way to pay him back for that. We never crossed paths again… and then…”

“...And then he died.” Dick finished sadly, tears filling his own eyes. The photo of the two boys together looked so happy.

“I couldn’t do anything to pay him back while he was alive,” Tim stammered, his voice wobbling even as he tightened his grip on himself. “But when I saw the signs of Batman was becoming… what his father was turning into… I… I…” Tim’s voice cracked and he reached up to scrub at his eyes with the heel of his hand as the tears began to fall. “I had to do something! Robin wouldn’t want this… Jason wouldn’t want his father to become THIS!”

As Tim began to cry, he found himself drawn into a tight hug again. He buried his face in Dick’s chest as he tried to muffle the mournful sounds that wanted to bubble up without end. He felt Dick press a kiss to the top of his head.. felt drops of hot tears settle into his hair.

“You’re such a good, kind kid, you know that,” Dick murmured wetly into his hair. “Jason would’ve loved you.”

“I only met him once… but I miss him so much.”

“I know…” Dick whispered. “I know…”

Chapter 21: Chapter 21 - Famous Last Words

Chapter Text

Dick stayed with Tim until both had regained some semblance of composure. It was no surprise once everything had settled down that the young teenager was exhausted to the point of near passing out. The rest of the evening passed from a blur into the comfortable blanket of sleep.

The next morning, Tim woke up to the sensation of a full body ache, from his head down to his toes and far too much daylight. He sat up gingerly with a groan and held his head. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“Did all that really happen last night?” he wondered aloud to himself.

Then, he noticed the bandages on his arms where he’d gotten the road rash from the night before. With a shiver, Tim found himself completely wide awake.

Frantically, he glanced around his bedroom. His bulletin board was lying on his desk, though all the photos and evidence were now missing. The envelope full of disturbing Batman photographs was gone too. In their place, though, were two face down photographs, and a cellphone he didn’t recognize.

Curiously, Tim crawled to the edge of his bed closest to the desk and reached out (wincing) until he could snag the items with his fingertips and pull them in. He turned on the phone and found it prompted him for his fingerprint. When he did so, a message appeared on the screen:

---

“Timmy,

Thank you for bringing everything to my attention last night. I would’ve never known otherwise, until it was too late. I’ll do my best to reach out to B for you and for J.

In the meantime, please do not go out alone at night anymore. I’ve got friends monitoring the area around your neighborhood and I plan to clean up those two pieces of scum that went after you last night. Still, Gotham is not safe for anyone your age alone after sunset.

Speaking of last night, you’re probably gonna be one giant bruise this morning. There’s definitely going to be one on your cheek that you won’t be able to hide from your housekeeper, so you might want to come up with a plausible excuse for her before you set foot out the bedroom. My suggestion: kids your age are still climbing trees, right? There’s a convenient one right outside your balcony after all.

Finally, this cell is a burner. The only number programmed in goes to another burner that belongs to me. If you need to talk to someone about B or J or about last night, please call me. If I don’t answer immediately, I might be busy, but I will always call back as soon as I can. It’s programmed to unlock just with your fingerprint, but if anyone else tries to unlock it, the circuit board will fry itself and turn the phone into a brick.

Again, thank you so much for everything, Timmy. You’re a really brave kind kid, and I’ll let you know how things go with B.

Keep in touch,

D”

---

Tim smiled sadly as he re-read the note, then pressed the button labeled “ERASE” and made it disappear from his screen. He checked the contact list and indeed found only one number saved before he finally put the phone to sleep. Then he looked at the two photos that had been left behind. It was his photo from the circus, and his photo with Robin.

He sighed and held them close to his chest.

“I hope it’s enough, Jason,” he whispered, then he glanced upward toward the ceiling, beyond the ceiling. “Dick will take care of everything right?” He wiped away a few stray tears. “I wish I had a big brother like him. Seems pretty cool.”

---

As Dick suggested, Tim did blame the tree outside his balcony window for the ugly bruises Mrs. Mac gasped and fretted over the immediate moment she saw them.

“Good gracious! What were you thinking?! Climbing that old thing?!”

“There was a bird in there I really wanted to get a photo of, but the shot was blocked. I thought if I got closer…”

“Your mother would have KITTENS if she knew you’d fallen out of that tree. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d take an axe to it herself!”

“No! Please don’t tell her, Mrs. Mac! It’s such a nice tree!”

“....Fine. I won’t tell her, but we’re going to your doctor right now to get you checked out. Make sure nothing’s broken or fractured. Heaven help ME if your mother comes home from Haiti and finds you horribly disfigured.”

“It’s just a few bruises…”

“Timothy Jackson Drake!”

“....I’ll meet you at the car.”

---

Tim spent the remainder of the week sequestered at home. Fortunately the doctor found no breaks or fractures, but that didn’t stop Mrs. Mac from fretting over him and stopping by every day, instead of every other day, to check in and make sure he was healing up alright and not getting into more trouble.

It was just as well, Tim wasn’t too crazy about going out. Even going out with his housekeeper to the doctor in broad daylight had him on edge. Every face he didn’t recognize that looked in his general direction made him far too nervous to relax.

So he stayed at home.

He played online games with some of his Brentwood school friends.

He lurked on various Gotham City message boards and social media websites that frequently posted about Batman and Rogue sightings.

He kept Dick’s burner cell phone within constant reach.

It was nice.

The two of them had been texting back and forth all week. Dick made sure he was feeling better, was reassured when Tim mentioned the doctor visit and was amused by how much of a mother hen Mrs. Mac was.

“Sounds like she and Agent A would be absolutely terrifying if they ever joined forces,” Dick joked.

Dick also let Tim know the moment he gift wrapped the two attempted kidnappers/known child-traffickers that had tried to snatch him that night and left them on the doorstep of the GCPD, which helped Tim so much in sleeping at night.

But on the matter of Batman…

“Working on it,” Dick texted. “B’s… not in a good place, and Scarecrow is loose. Mission comes first.”

Tim texted back. “I heard about Scarecrow on r/GCRogueAlerts. Be careful.”

“Always. Stay home and stay safe.”

Famous last words...

Chapter 22: Chapter 22 - Passing the Mantle

Chapter Text

“Live from Robinson Park, this is Vicki Vale GCN News. The dangerous Rogue, Jonathan Crane, aka The Scarecrow, has been sighted in the area. Reports from witnesses on the scene say that the vigilantes Batman and Nightwing are currently in pursuit, but their exact current locations are unknown. Police are extending a security perimeter around the park.

“Local residents are being ordered to shelter in place. Keep your windows and doors bolted, and do not not exit your homes until the all clear signal has been released by the police.

“If you own a gas mask, please keep them on hand and pre-loaded with fresh filters rated for JSI toxins. Remember: Do not reuse old filters if they were used during a previous Joker Gas, Fear Gas, or Pollen Cloud event. Remember to dispose of used filters in appropriately marked biohazard waste receptacles located around the city. They can be found at your local hospitals, police stations, fire stations, or any location where you see ‘this symbol’ on the screen.

“GCN News will continue to keep the citizens of Gotham City updated on breaking news as it occurs.

“This is Vicki Vale from Robinson Park. Back to you Terry.”

---

Tim felt his anxiety churn in the pit of his stomach as he turned away from the television news report and stared outside his window towards the darkness of the park.

Then, his cell phone began to ring.

Not his personal one, but his burner.

The boy scrambled to grab it from his nightstand and answered the call immediately.

“Dick!?”

“I’m afraid not, young man. This is Agent A,” a well spoken male British voice said over the phone. “Do you know who I am?”

Tim swallowed hard. “Y-yes,” he said hesitantly. “Dick told me about you.”

"Good. I apologize for the intrusion tonight, but I need your help.”

The boy’s breath got caught in his throat. “My help?”

“Yes… The Scarecrow hit Batman with an injectable fear toxin. It's stronger than the gas the Rogue usually uses, and unfortunately Nightwing doesn’t have antidotes on hand strong enough to combat its effects. I have stronger antidotes, but I can’t get to where Nightwing is, and he can’t leave Batman alone in the state he’s in. However, from what Nightwing has told me, I believe you might have the skills necessary to get to his location to deliver the items he needs.”

Tim listened to the old man’s words and calmly as he could. Then he looked out his window again at the darkened ominous park. He thought about Batman… He thought about Nightwing… about Dick…

He thought about Robin… Jason…

“What do I need to do, Agent A? How can I help?”

---

Dressed in dark clothes with his gas mask in hand and the burner phone in his pocket, Tim waited at the requested location, a secluded alley behind a restaurant a block away from the park. It had taken some stealth to slip past the police barricade, but somehow Tim managed to just barely squeak by.

His heartbeat started racing when a black car silently pulled into the alley, headlights off, and stopped silently. A slender old man stepped out of the vehicle and beckoned him over.

“Are you Agent A?” Tim asked quietly once he was close enough. The man nodded.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Timothy. Master Richard has spoken quite highly of you.”

Tim felt his face warm at that, but tried to not let it distract him. “Do you have the things I need?”

Agent A pulled out a parcel from the back seat of the car. “These are the auto-injectors filled with the stronger antidote. Whatever you do, keep these safe.”

Tim nodded and took them, studying the curious looking autoinjectors for a moment, but then as he looked back at Agent A, he paused.

The old man had a red jacket in his arms…

No….

Not a red jacket…

Tim’s eyes went wide. “What the-- I can’t--”

Agent A sighed. “You can, and you must, my dear boy. I’ve already spoken to Nightwing about this plan and he’s in agreement. We don’t want to put you in danger’s way, but we literally have no other choice. If we had any other armor small enough to fit you, I’d offer that, but THIS is all we have to protect you.”

With a stuttering breath, Tim reached out and took the red armored Robin tunic from Agent A’s arms. Tears pricked his eyes.

It was just like he remembered.

Solemnly he slipped it on over his black jacket and smoothed it over his chest, fingertips catching on the gold R logo. Then he put on the offered green gloves and black steel toed boots. When he looked up at Agent A, the old man looked pained but sniffed and nodded.

“How does it feel?”

Tim tried to calm the fluttering of his heart. “It feels… heavy,” he finally answered. “...but safe too.” The boy dared to glance at the old man. “How does it look?”

The old man was holding a black domino mask, and his fingers tightened around it as he stared at Tim. Then, with the precise practiced ease of a person who’d done it a million times before, Agent A placed the mask over Tim’s face and pressed it gently into place. Then he stepped back to look at Tim in full.

“It’s… like looking at a ghost.”

Chapter 23: Chapter 23 - We Are Robin

Chapter Text

It was because Tim was small that he needed to be the one to help Batman and Nightwing get the stronger antidotes.

The news had not been kidding when they said that the Gotham City PD had set up a large security perimeter around the entirety of Robinson Park. With as tight as the police presence was to keep the Scarecrow from getting out, there was no way Agent A would’ve been able to sneak in undetected.

However, there was a network of small tunnels known to Agent A used by local younger street kids that ran beneath various areas of the city, including the park, as a way to travel safely or as emergency bolt holes to escape police, gangs, Rogues, etc… Tim might have been thirteen and was normally a little sensitve about how short he was for his age, but as he was navigating the dark narrow tunnels using the night vision built into his mask, he was thankful for his lack of height and bulk.

Agent A’s voice buzzed in via an earpiece comm link he’d received before heading into the tunnels. “You’re coming up on an intersection. When you come to it, take the left, then immediately take the first right after that.”

“Ok,” Tim whispered as he peered straight again. It was comforting to have the old man in his ear. From what Agent A told him, he’d sewn in several tracking devices into the tunic so he could monitor where he was located at all times within the tunnels using GPS. He was keeping an eye on him from the car parked back in the alley, using a special tablet, so he wouldn’t get lost, and also directing him exactly to where Nightwing and Batman were in the park, because they had the same trackers as well.

As Tim got to the intersection, an unexpected movement and noise from one of the other tunnels nearly made him jump out of his skin with a gasp.

“Who’s there?” he called out, only to be answered with a frightened whimper and nervous shuffling. As he peered into the tunnel with his night vision, he was startled to see a couple of forms that were smaller than him. Pressing the nearly invisible buttons Agent A showed him, Tim turned off the night vision function and pulled out the small flashlight he’d been given on the utility belt he wore with the tunic. The tiny flashlight revealed a pair of kids just a handful of years younger than Tim, an African American boy and a Hispanic girl, huddled together in the dark. As they looked at him, their eyes grew big and round with wonder.

“Are you… Robin?” the little girl asked with an awestruck whisper.

Tim swallowed hard. He didn’t know how to answer that, so instead he asked, “What are you two kids doing here?”

The boy answered. “We were in the park when the alert went out about Scarecrow. We tried to get out through the tunnels, but it’s too dark and we got lost.”

Tim tightened his hand around the flashlight for a moment. Then he moved forward and pressed it into the boy’s hand, since he looked older. “What’re your names?”

“This is Bella, and I’m Duke.”

Tim nodded. “Take this and go back the way I came,” he instructed. “Take two rights, then a left, and then another right. That’ll get you out of the park and back on the surface away from the cops.”

The kids both smiled at him. “Gracias, Robin!” the little girl said, and Duke nodded in agreement. “Thanks!”

As he watched the two kids travel down the tunnel towards safety, Tim felt a warmth settle in his chest.

“Good job, Timothy,” Agent A’s voice was warm as well in his ear. “But we have no time to rest on our laurels.”

“Yes sir,” Tim affirmed as he turned his night vision back on. “Back on delivery duty.”

Chapter 24: Chapter 24 - Walk in the Park

Chapter Text

Ten minutes later, Tim found himself peering out cautiously from beneath an old gazebo that was normally used as a picnic spot for visitors. He was deep within the heart of the park, and it was eerily quieter than he’d ever experienced it before. Even the normal animal and city night sounds were absent.

“Before you head out, make sure you put on your rebreather just like I showed you,” Agent A reminded him.

Quietly, Tim put on the small face mask that fit snugly over his nose and mouth. It was lighter, had a better seal, and was higher quality than anything available on the civilian market. Once it was secured, Tim moved the loose section of trellis carefully to one side and crawled out into the open.

"Ok. I'm here," Tim whispered. "Where are Batman and Nightwing?"

"I'm remotely turning on the tracking function of your mask so you can locate Nightwing. You should see a small blue target in your field of vision with an estimate of distance next to it. It might be a little odd at first."

Tim blinked as the icon appeared. "Oh wow. It's like a video game HUD. I can work with this."

"Good. Now I'm adding Nightwing to the comm channel, so he can give you specific instructions on the ground. Make sure you do exactly what he says."

"Yes sir."

As Tim began to move in Nightwing's general direction, a new but familiar voice reached out from the comm.

“T?”

Tim blinked. Of course Dick wouldn’t use his real name. This was becoming more and more real, which set his nerves on edge. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m here.”

He could hear a deep sigh on the other end of the comm. Then Nightwing spoke again. “I need you to make your way to my location. However, you need to be careful. Scarecrow is still in the park and hunting for B.”

Tim’s heart thudded in his ears. “He’s hunting Batman?”

“B’s on a really bad trip with this batch of fear toxin. We need that antidote… But I don’t want you getting hurt.” Nightwing sighed again. “Keep your cape around you as much as you can. The black outer shell will help you blend into the shadows. As you move to my location, pause in the shadows of trees and other cover and scan your surroundings before moving to the next piece of cover. Watch out for Scarecrow. He basically looks like the main attraction escaped from a Halloween-come-early haunted corn maze.”

Tim managed a nervous chuckle. “Great… so like playing a zombie survival game without any weapons and the jumpscares are really gonna suck. At least there aren’t any animatronics in this one.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Nightwing managed a small weak chuckle himself. “Yeah… no… That’s a Toymaster thing, and he’s more a Metropolis problem, thank god.” Then his voice sobered and became more serious. “Be careful. If you run into any trouble, I’m right here and I’ll come to you. I’m tracking you the same way you're tracking me.”

“Thanks Nightwing. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

---

The main problem with the park being so unnaturally quiet was that every other noise Tim heard or made seem painfully loud. As he moved from cover to cover, his eyes darted for any sign of potential danger.

A rustling from behind him made him freeze in fright. As a squirrel ran out ahead of him and darted up a nearby tree. Tim let out a shaky laugh.

“Whoever thought ‘Halloween in June’ was a good marketing scheme needs to go back to the drawing board. This really sucks.”

Nightwing snickered and Tim could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll get right on that. Find out who it is and send them a strongly worded…” The vigilante’s voice softened and the amusem*nt trialed off. “...email?”

Tim paused. “What’s wrong?”

“I see you.”

---

Dick Grayson knew he was coming. He knew and agreed with Alfred that they couldn’t send Tim into Robinson Park without any protection, especially not with a Rogue like the Scarecrow on the loose. Jason’s old gear was all they had on hand that would fit him and protect him in case things got hairy.

He’d been trying to steel himself for the moment when he knew he’d see the boy.

Now the moment was here.

From where he was tucked in the shadow beneath a bridge that travelled over a creek, it was a brief flash of yellow from the underside of the black cape that caught his eye first from behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. There was a moment of hesitation…

Then “Robin” stepped cautiously out into the moonlight.

Immediately Dick muted his comm and pressed his lips tightly together behind his rebreather to prevent the sob that wanted to escape from being voiced.

“Oh god… he looks just like Jay,” he thought miserably as he tried to close his eyes against the tears that wanted to flood his mask.

“He looks just like Jay…”

“He looks just like Jay…”

Then, Dick’s heart stuttered and the grief that was threatening to drown him suddenly pulled back as something seemed to click in his mind.

“He looks just like Jay?”

Dick’s head snapped up and his eyes went wide. Using the telescopic function of his lenses, he zoomed in to get a better look at Tim’s appearance, frowning. With both the mask and the rebreather masking his features, it was hard to tell, but there was something heartbreakingly familiar in the lines and angles of Tim’s face in the moonlight.

Too familiar.

“What… What the--?” Dick thought to himself.

Before he could go any further, the sound of Tim’s voice cut through his internal chatter.

“Nightwing? Nightwing? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

The fear in the young teenager’s voice sobered Dick up immediately as he watched Tim glancing in his general direction. He could tell the boy was searching for him, probably from the tracker in his mask, but he was looking too high, and Dick knew his uniform allowed him to blend in almost seamlessly with the darkest shadow of the bridge’s underbelly. The trackers, though fairly accurate, unfortunately had a problem with altitude at times. He immediately felt bad and flipped his comm back on.

“I’m here. I’m here T. Under the bridge.”

Immediately the boy tilted the angle of his head, and Dick could hear the relief in Tim’s voice. “There you are.”

“And there YOU are.”

A deeper menacing voice came through Dick’s comm link, and it took a moment for him to realize it was from where Tim was. His heart froze as he watched Tim immediately try to whirl around to look at someone behind him.

“NO!” Tim yelled. Quickly the boy tried to stumble forward as he reached for something from his utility belt. Just as he managed to grab something and throw it towards Nightwing, he was snagged by his cape and jerked back into the shadows of the woods.

“ROBIN!” Dick yelled as he dashed out from under the bridge. He managed to catch the thing Tim threw him before they hit the ground.

They were the antidotes.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25 - Batman, Robin, and Nightwing

Chapter Text

[Where is my son?]

“B? I have the antidote!”

[Jason? Jay? Where are you? Why can’t I find you? Please! Tell me where you are?]

“Damnit B! I hope this works fast. Snap out of it! We need you!”

[eheheheheheheh…….]

[No! No! Stay away from him! Jay! Jay! Where are you?!]

---

Nightwing barely spared a moment to look over the catatonic Batman after emptying the antidote autoinjector into his arm.

This new batch of fear toxin was dangerous and insidious. Instead of forcing the person to become violently reactive due to wild horrifying hallucinations, it seemed to turn a person’s fears completely inward, locking them in a prison of their own mind with their worst nightmares.

It left Scarecrow’s victims completely helpless, as opposed to violently out of control.

Unfortunately, Nightwing didn’t have the time to watch over his adopted father as he came down from the toxin’s effects. As soon as he’d given the antidote to Batman, he rushed back out, escrima sticks in his hand, to take down the bastard responsible for this nightmare.

---

Tim’s vision swam as he was thrown harshly to the ground. Before he had a chance to recover, the young teenager found himself being hoisted up by his cape, like a scruffed kitten, as the Scarecrow stared at him, mask to mask.

“Well well well,” the Rogue said as a weird green vapor, likely fear toxin gas, seeped from the taller man’s mask. “Word on the street was that the Bat’s little bird was broken by the Joker months ago. So glad to see that’s not the case…”

Then the Rogue paused and tilted his head slightly, as if considering the victim trapped in his hand. “...Wait... You’re not the same boy?”

Before the Scarecrow could say anything else, Tim reached up and triggered the quick release clasp of his cape, freeing him from the Rogue’s grasp and dropping him to the ground hard. Though he’d fallen back, Tim knew he couldn’t hesitate! He couldn’t freeze up or he’d be dead or worse! Once he was on the ground, he kicked out as hard as he could, connecting the heel of his boot with one of the Rogue’s knees with a painful crunching sound.

As the Rogue howled in pain, Tim scrambled to his feet and ran. However, he was soon brought down to his own knees by a sharp sting to his shoulder. He reached to his back and plucked out what looked like some sort of dart that was still half full, and a quick glance backward revealed the Scarecrow was aiming a dart gun of some sort at him with a grim grin and a dark chuckle.

Tim’s vision swam again and his head felt fuzzy. He tried to get to his feet, but collapsed a moment later. He held his head.

[There was screaming. So much screaming! Why couldn’t he muffle the sound?!]

[Car tires squealing! The sound of colliding metal and breaking glass. People falling! Hands reaching out for him! Grabbing! Grasping! Pulling at him! Tearing at him!]

So paralyzed was Tim by the horrible cacophony of sounds and images filling his head that he couldn’t hear or see the Scarecrow coming up upon him.

“I don’t know what the Bat was thinking,” The Scarecrow mused as he came up upon Tim as he reloaded his dart gun with another full cartridge of toxin. “but perhaps someone needs another lesson in why little birds shouldn’t fly at night in Gotham City.” The Rogue calmly aimed the gun point blank at the fallen “Robin”.

Suddenly, a gleaming black metal shuriken in the shape of a bat embedded itself deeply in the Rogue’s hand, forcing him to drop the gun. The Scarecrow whipped his head around to see who’d thrown it, but an escrima stick hit him full in the face and drove him backwards away from the fallen boy. When the Rogue recovered enough to see what had happened, he found himself face to face with Nightwing, who was glaring at him with a dark venomous expression of his own, his escrima sticks crackling with blue electricity.

“You will NOT touch him again!” the vigilante growled before rushing the Rogue into a full on brawl, striking out at the villain without any restraint.

---

As the antidote worked its way through his system, Batman groggily got to his feet. His head still felt fuzzy, but he was mostly coherent. The other doses of the antidote were now in his utility belt as well. He could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, and he could see the flashes of blue crackling light dance between the trees.

“Nightwing?” he murmured with a shake of his head. He tried to move toward his eldest’s location. Instead, though, the HUD display of his cowl’s lenses blinked with a new target in red.

“Sir!”

“Agent A?”

“Nightwing has the Scarecrow on his heels, but you need to check on the boy right now!”

“Boy?”

“He got injected with the same toxin as you. You need to get him the antidote immediately!”

“Understood.”

Batman quickly shifted gears, his head clearing with each step he took towards the blinking dot where the Scarecrow’s most recent victim laid.

And then he froze and behind his cowl his eyes widened as his breathing hitched.

“Robin?”

For a moment, Batman… Bruce… thought he was still hallucinating. Did the antidote not work completely as he stared at the black haired boy dressed in THAT red tunic and mask laying lifeless on the ground.

Then the boy shifted and a broken whimper escaped his lips, cutting deep into Bruce’s heart.

“Robin!” he rushed to the boy’s side and gathered him in his arms. As he did so, Bruce’s heart broke.

This was not his boy.

Too young…

Too small…

Too light in his arms…

Too warm in his arms…

Bruce had so many questions. Too many questions about this strange child dressed in his dead son’s armor. But they were shoved out of his head as a tremble ran through the boy’s entire body, tears leaked from beneath the dominio mask, and a broken gasping sob escaped the rebreather mask still covering his mouth and nose.

The boy curled into Bruce.

“It’ll be ok,” he whispered to the boy as he continued to hold the boy with one arm while he retrieved an antidote with the other. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

Batman heard footsteps approaching. He’d just finished administering the antidote and turned just enough to catch Nightwing approaching, Robin’s cape cradled in one hand and a badly beaten, bloodied, and unconscious zip-tied Scarecrow being dragged by the scruff of his coat in the other before being unceremoniously dropped and secured to a nearby lamp post.

“How is he?” Nightwing asked, all traces of his earlier fury bled off into quiet concern.

“Unconscious,” Batman replied as he gathered the boy up in his arms and rose to his feet. “We need to take him to the cave for testing. Who knows what Crane’s new toxin could do in someone this young, or how they’ll react to the antidote.” He watched as Nightwing picked up Crane’s new dart gun and checked to see it still had a full cartridge of toxin inside. “This boy….

Nightwing glanced up at his mentor silently.

“...Is he the one you were trying to tell me about this week?”

Nightwing nodded.

Batman sighed. “Agent A… Notify the GCPD of the Scarecrow’s location. Nightwing and I will make our way to the car and head back to the Cave. Please have things ready for blood testing and lab work once we get there.”

“Very good, sir.”

Chapter 26: Chapter 26 - His Brother's Keeper

Chapter Text

“How is he?”

Alfred Pennyworth had just finished taking Tim’s vitals and checking the monitors attached to him. The young teenager still laid unconscious on the bed in one of the guest rooms of Wayne Manor. Tasks finally completed, the old man finally graced Bruce Wayne with his full attention.

“His vitals are stable, though he is running a low grade fever. Unfortunately, I won’t know for certain if the antidote has neutralized all of the fear toxin’s effects until I can get these blood samples processed downstairs. For now, all we can do is monitor his fever, watch if any other symptoms arise, and let the poor boy rest. Timothy… has had a rough night.” Gently, the butler smoothed Tim’s hair from his face before sighing and rising to his feet, tray of blood samples in hand.

“Hey, Al. I’ll get that started for you,” Dick said as the old man entered the hallway.

“Thank you, Richard.”

As Dick walked towards the study where the hidden elevator to the Cave was located, Alfred noticed how Bruce lingered in the doorway to Timothy’s room. The lines and shadows of his face seemed deeper than the old man had ever seen on his charge.

“Penny for your thoughts, Master Bruce?”

A corner of Bruce’s lips twitched upward slightly before falling to their default stoic line. “I don’t think they’re worth even that much, old friend,” he murmured before sighing. His weary blue eyes never left the slumbering child on the bed. “I screwed up.”

Alfred tilted his head but said nothing. He gave Bruce room to collect his thoughts before speaking again.

“I finally sat down and looked over everything Dick brought over from the boy’s home,” Bruce continued. “All the photos. The report on the lengths Tim went to get his attention.” He shook his head. “He went all the way to New York City and back on his own... A thirteen year old kid…. And if anything bad would have happened to him along the way, no one would’ve known.” He brought up a hand to swipe over his face. “And something bad did happen to him tonight… All because he was worried about me.”

“It’s all my fault.”

---

As Bruce spoke with Alfred upstairs, Dick made his way down into the Cave with Tim’s blood samples. It was a simple process with Bruce’s laboratory set up to start the tests to find out how much fear toxin was still in the boy’s veins and what kind of effect the antidote was having on it, if anything.

However, in order to make his way to the lab, he needed to pass by a memorial case…

Dick paused momentarily in front of the glass case with his dead brother’s uniform. His eyes drifted to the plaque that rested at its base.

“Jason Todd: Beloved Son & Brother”

The man took a measured breath, released it slowly, then turned away from the case to move toward the lab. Then he went through the standard motions to prepare the blood samples for testing.

But Dick’s eyes kept drifting back to the case.

---

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Bruce’s arm. “Timothy hasn’t been the only one worried about you, my boy,” he said gently. “Ever since Jason passed, you have been in a very dark place. Richard and I have tried to reach out to you over these last months, but always you were out of reach and pushing everyone away.”

He then pulled Bruce into a hug and held him, just like he used to when the man was a child. “While I hate the knowledge that this boy was put in so much danger over the last several weeks, I am thankful to him as well.”

Alfred glanced back at the slumbering boy with an expression of deep gratitude.

“That the heavens saw fit to send this child as a beacon of light to guide you back to us when no one else could… A part of me wants to think that perhaps Jason’s spirit sent him to us in our hour of greatest need.. to bring you home.”

Tears whelled up in Bruce’s eyes as he hugged Alfred once more, burying his face in the old man’s shoulder. “I miss him,” he murmured. “I miss my son so much.”

“I know, my boy. We all do.”

---

One vial of blood left.

Dick rolled the vial back and forth between his fingers on the table. The rest of the vials were just enough to run the necessary labs Alfred needed to make sure Tim would be alright.

But that left one extra vial.

Dick’s mind drifted along with his eyes.

“His name should’ve been Timothy.” Jason’s words from the past echoed in his memories. “Mom let me name him.”

Dick shook his head and wandered to a seperate workstation. He opened up the casefile that had been consuming his life for the last six months; leaving him frustrated and heartsick week after week as he hit nothing but dead end after dead end.

Then… hesitantly… Dick imported the packet of files that Cyborg had sent him earlier about the Drake family that he’d requested when he first discovered Tim’s home address after the “invitation” he’d received in New York City.

---

“What do I do now, Alfred?” Bruce sat on the stairs with the old butler beneath the portrait of his own mother and father.

Alfred kept a comforting hand on Bruce’s arm. “Do you mean about yourself? The boy? Batman?”

“Everything?” Bruce looked at his hands. “I’m trying to look back on the last six months since Jason died, but it’s all a blur. Just… pain and misery and… and….”

“And?”

“...and so much anger.” Bruce bowed his head. “The Joker murdered Jason, but then Gordon killed the Joker. The Joker won. He took my son and there’s no punishing the monster who stole him from us. I raged against all criminals since that day, but…”

Alfred sighed. “It doesn’t stop or solve crimes. It doesn’t help others for whom society’s justice has overlooked. And…” He gave Bruce a sad look. “... Jason would’ve never wanted to see you go down this self destructive path. If he saw the person you became after his death, I think it’d break his heart.”

---

“One of these years we’ll be able to celebrate his birthday together,” Dick remembers watching Jason as his brother stares at a single candle on a cupcake Alfred baked for him. “Happy birthday, Timmy, wherever you are,” the thirteen year old says before blowing out the candle.

Dick stares at the birth certificate for Timothy Jackson Drake and a lump rises into his throat. Though it says he was born in a hospital somewhere in upstate Pennsylvania, his date of birth is listed as July 9, 20xx….

The same dated Jason’s brother was born.

He lifts up a copy of the old circus photograph that Tim had used to invite him back to Gotham City. Though his heart wants to linger in the images of his parents, he keeps his eyes focused on Tim's.

They really look nothing like him.

Dick glances back at the computer screen and focuses on a recent DNA report that had been ordered by Jack Drake just a few weeks ago.

Biologically, Tim is not his son.

From Jason's own files, he brings up a scanned photo of Jay with Catherine and Willis Todd back when he was four. Clearly Jason favored Willis in features and body type, though he had his mother's eyes.

Timothy Drake looked nothing like Willis Todd.

Catherine Todd, on the other hand…

---

"I think I need help."

Alfred looks at Bruce, a guarded measure of hope rising in the old man's chest. "What do you mean, my boy?"

Bruce wiped at his eyes wearily. "I think I need to look at therapy… as Bruce Wayne," he admitted. "I haven't handled Jason's death well at all. And it's negatively affecting everyone around me. The people I love… random children on the street…"

"And I need to take a step back as Batman… Reevaluate what his mission needs to be for Gotham and--"

"...Batman? Nightwing...?"

Tim's voice, weighed down by weariness, floated from the bedroom towards Bruce and Alfred.

---

Dick paced in front of the computer, his fingers running through his hair in agitation.

He'd just finished roughly Photoshopping a smiling photo of Jason from when he was fourteen into a scan of the photo Tim had taken with "Robin" when he was nine that Dick had made a copy of.

They weren't twins, and there were some clear differences in size and stature..

But God…

Their hair…

Their eyes…

The way they smiled...

If he didn't know any better...

As he turned to make another pass by the computer, the leftover vial of blood caught his eye.

All the evidence he had so far was circ*mstantial, but…

He could see Jason's memorial case out of the corner of his eye.

Dick tapped his foot nervously as his thoughts churned in his mind and butterflies created a small hurricane in his stomach. Finally…

"f*ck it!"

Pulling his hands from his hair, Dick stormed towards the lab and snatched the vial of blood. Before he could second guess himself, he quickly prepared a sample to run through the computer. Once the sample was fed into the machine, Dick took a step back as another "processing" window popped up on the screen…

Instead of searching for toxins, it was scanning the sample's DNA.

"Christ… What am I doing?"

---

"Hey Tim. How are you feeling?" Bruce's voice was gentle as he re-entered the guest room. He went to take a seat on the bed next to the boy, who was still laying down and looked really groggy.

"Mr. Wayne?," Tim observed in a small confused voice. "Where am I?"

"You're in my home, Wayne Manor."

"What happened? Why am I here?" Tim tried to sit up, but fell back after a moment with a groan.

Bruce tested his hand on Tim's shoulder. "Take it easy, Tim. The Scarecrow managed to dose you with fear toxin. We gave you the antidote, but we want to make sure the toxin is completely out of your system before you go home."

Tim furrowed his brow. "I… Can't remember. What day is today?"

Alfred chimed in behind Bruce. "It's two a.m. Saturday morning."

The boy nodded. "No rush to go home," he murmured. "Mrs. Mac doesn't come in on the weekend, and Mom won't call to check in until dinnertime.

"That's right…" Alfred mused. "Richard said your parents are out of town?"

"Mm-hmm."

Bruce reached out to touch Tim's forehead, checking for the fever which was still there. "Well then, let's have you stay the night here. We'll see how you feel in the morning and get you home by the afternoon."

"I don't want to be a bother…"

"It's no bother at all," Bruce said with a kind smile.

---

10%

"What am I thinking?"

20%

"This could just be a lot of coincidences."

30%

"Just the same name… birthdate… hair color… eye color…"

40%

"And really… if someone kidnaps a kid, they wouldn't keep the same name and they'd fudge the birthdate."

50%

"You've been under too much stress, Dick. You were on vacation in NYC for a reason."

60%

"And lots of kids don't look much like their parents. Appearances don't mean anything."

70%

"Besides… the universe doesn't work this way."

80%

"Though Tim would make an awesome kid brother."

90%

"Jason would have loved him."

---

Bruce and Alfred exited the guest room once Tim slipped back to sleep. They made their way to the study.

"After we see the lab results, we should have a better idea on if the antidote is working on Tim, or if the formula needs adjusting," Bruce mused.

"You should test your own blood as well," Alfred added.

Bruce nodded as he opened the secret elevator. "I will. I will," he promised the old butler.

As they stepped out of the elevator, a loud crash startled them both.

"My word! What in the world--?"

"Dick? Dick! Where are you?! Are you ok?!"

Immediately Bruce rushed to the lab, adrenaline spiking as he scanned the area for his son, the leftover dregs of his horrible fear toxin experience flaring up immediately.

Then he spotted Dick.

The young man was leaning back against a table that had been holding a number of new prototype weapons Bruce had been working on in his spare time, most of which was now in the floor. His hand was clasped tightly over his mouth and he was staring at the computer screen in shock, barely when acknowledging Bruce was even there.

"Dick? Dick what wrong?" Bruce pleaded as he took in his eldest son's face with growing alarm as the younger man's eyes filled with tears.

Instead of answering his father's question, Dick shook his head and sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands with a broken hearted sob.

Bruce felt his anxiety climb. He glanced around the area quickly, trying to find the source of what had upset his son so badly.

Then he saw the computer screen and for a moment everything in his life froze.

There in the window were the results of a DNA scan for Timothy Jackson Drake…

...and with 99.9875% certainty, he was the full biological sibling to Jason Peter Todd.

Chapter 27: Chapter 27 - Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Text

Bruce sat before the main workstation and stared at all the windows of evidence on the multiple screens, still not quite believing what he was looking at.

Timothy Drake was the biological child of Catherine and Willis Todd.

(He personally ran the DNA test three more times to be certain.)

His dead son’s long lost baby brother was alive and sleeping safe and sound upstairs…. now.

Earlier, Jason’s baby brother had been fear toxined by the Scarecrow…

And was nearly kidnapped by child traffickers…

And was nearly run down in the middle of the street…

And had managed to travel all the way to New York City and back without any responsible adult realizing it…

AND had apparently spent a solid week of late nights STALKING an emotionally compromised and extremely violent Batman while he beat up criminals.

Bruce buried his face in hands.

Tim’s shenanigans to get HIS attention… to finally enter his life... It was like the universe took one look at Jason stealing the Batmobile’s tires all those years ago, laughed, and said “Here, hold my beer, watch this!”

On either side of him, Bruce was flanked by both Alfred and Dick, who were each processing this new revelation in their own way.

Poor Alfred was seated in the second most comfortable chair in the Batcave after making a fresh pot of tea and coffee and bringing it over to the workstation along with some food, though no one appeared to be hungry. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted his teacup to his lips and drank slowly.

Dick, on the other hand, was leaning against the console of the workstation at Bruce’s right hand, a deathgrip on the coffee cup he was nursing. His eyes were red-rimmed from his earlier emotional breakdown, but now he was significantly calmer and more clear-eyed. He was also the first to voice the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“What do we do now?”

When Alfred spoke, his voice wavered a little. “We can’t let him return to that woman.” His old, but sharp eyes narrowed on the computer monitor that held side-by-side images of both a society photo of Janet Drake as well as stills from the grainy security camera footage from the night Tim had been kidnapped from his mother’s hospital room. Though the security images were old, there were clear similarities between Janet Drake and the unknown fake nurse that had removed the baby from Catherine Todd’s room that night.

Bruce swept his hands down his face with a sigh. “We may not have a choice if the Drakes return sooner than they’re expected.”

“Sir!”

Bruce held up a hand in a placating gesture. “I don’t want him anywhere near that woman either, but for now we don’t have a choice. The only ones who know the truth now is us, but it’s not like we can just hand off all this evidence to the GCPD and expect them to do the right thing with it.”

Dick chimed in cautiously, “What if we reached out to Ji--”

“Absolutely not!” Bruce snapped. At the hurt look Dick gave him, Bruce’s expression softened and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I won’t trust the safety of Jason’s brother to that man… not now that we’ve finally found him.”

Dick frowned but nodded. He understood. "Let me talk to Babs… Maybe she knows someone inside or outside the force who we can trust with handling this from a civilian perspective. She’s always been well connected in law enforcement circles.“

Bruce regarded Dick’s suggestion and nodded. Then he returned his attention to the computer screens, pulling up a copy of the Drake’s archaeological project itinerary along with their travel schedules for the rest of the summer.

“Fortunately, the Drakes aren't scheduled to return from Haiti until the first week of August. That should give us plenty of time to get a solid case built up. In the meantime, until we have everything we need to publicly, legally prove Janet kidnapped Tim and that he is Jason’s younger brother...,” Bruce sighed. “We can’t reveal any of this to Tim.”

“Why?!” Dick said with alarm. “He’s Jason’s brother! He belongs with us!”

“Tim doesn’t know that.”

Dick looked stricken as Bruce, who looked just as heartsick, continued. “That boy sleeping upstairs doesn’t know he was kidnapped when he was a baby. He doesn’t know the woman he loves as a mother and raised him actually stole him from his real mother thirteen years ago. He doesn’t know his real father was a criminal who died on the streets… He doesn’t know his real mother has been comatose for the past decade after a car accident and may never wake up… He doesn’t know…”

Bruce took a shaky breath as he glanced at the photo of ten-year old Tim with fifteen-year old Jason dressed in his Robin uniform. Tears pricked his eyes.

“He doesn’t know his ‘Robin’ was his brother, and his brother is dead.”

All three men sat there, pained expressions on their faces.

“When the truth is finally brought to light,” Alfred started softly. “Timothy is going to be crushed.”

“f*ck,” Dick swore as he teared up and began to pace. “There’s no way we can do this without hurting him!”

Bruce shook his head. “The most we can do is let him have the next few weeks of peace while we get our ducks in a row…. and we make ourselves ready to support and protect him however we can when that day finally arrives that we can legally bring him home.”

Alfred nodded. “In the meantime....” He stood up and regarded the information on the computer screen. “Considering his… recent activities… I’d feel better if we were able to keep him under some semblance of adult supervision here at the Manor over the course of the rest of this summer. While his mo-- Mrs. Drake does check in with him fairly regularly via phone and the housekeeper visits on a tight schedule, Timothy has far too much time alone on his hands.”

Dick nodded. “I’ve already been in regular touch with the kid since we met via phone. It’d be no problem to arrange a ‘chance meeting’ out in public to officially put Tim in my orbit as a civilian. He lives in the Robinson Park neighborhood and there are always social things going on that I can attend as a Wayne that he can show up at. I can talk to him about that tomorrow.” Then he paused and gave Bruce a look.

“What?” Bruce asked, immediately suspicious of the look his son was giving him.

“I have an idea…”

“What kind of idea?”

“Now before you say anything, please hear me out first.”

“Dick, what’s this idea?”

The younger man took a breath. “I think you should offer to train Tim.”

“WHAT?!”

“Not to become Robin!” Dick hastily added as he saw Bruce rise from his seat in agitation. “Hear me out, please.”

Bruce gave Dick a very suspicious look, but held his tongue as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Ok… Continue.”

DIck nodded. “It’s obvious that Tim is a good kid… a really smart kid… His heart is definitely in the right place, but he’s not exactly the most streetwise or observant kid, like Jason was.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. Dick took it as an encouraging sign.

“I think Tim could benefit from training in self defense and how to be more careful out on the streets. I have to eventually go and work missions with the Titans, so I think it’d be best… if you were the one to make the offer and start the training.” Dick shrugged. “It’d also give you and him a chance to get to know each other too… Before… Y’know...”

Bruce mulled over Dick’s words, eyes closed, expression guarded.

“We’ll see,” Bruce relented slightly. “Let me sleep on this and I’ll make a decision on this tomorrow.”

Dick nodded, quietly releasing a breath of air he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“For now, I think it’s time we all got some sleep. Tonight… has been.. a night.”

---

As Dick watched Alfred and Bruce enter their respective bedrooms, Dick lingered in the hallway before making a detour to the hallway with the guest rooms. Silently, he slid the door open a crack.

Bathed in moonlight from the window closest to the bed, Tim was sleeping peacefully. He’d shifted in his slumber to lay on his side, his face visible from where Dick peered in to check on him.

The medical machine monitoring his vital signs pinged quietly as it did its job. Heart Rate… Oxygen levels… Temperature… everything was at normal levels.

Tim was alive.

He was safe.

Dick closed the door with a sigh.

Jason's little brother… hell, HIS little brother... was finally home, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere in Haiti…

Janet Drake had picked up her cell phone in the tent she shared with her husband at the dig site deep in the mountains about fifty miles north of Port-au-Prince. Once the line picked up, she spoke calmly and clearly.

“Hello… US Embassy? My name is Janet Drake. I need to report my husband missing.”

Chapter 28: Chapter 28 - Meanwhile, Back in the...

Chapter Text

Tim was not normally a morning person. He was a slow riser during the best of times. However, there was just enough of a sense of “something is not normal” nagging at the edges of his consciousness that he sat up with a jerk once it clicked in his sleep-addled brain that he wasn’t in his own bedroom.

“Where am I?” His eyes darted around the room. The thirteen year old looked with confusion as he was laying in a queen-sized bed twice as big as the one he had at home. The room itself was larger too, with furniture and decor that clearly screamed old money (and lots of it). The only other things out of place, besides himself, were some pieces of medical equipment he was currently hooked up to, which appeared to be monitoring several of his vitals, including his heart rate, which was clearly elevated now.

As he sat there looking at the medical equipment in confusion, bits and pieces of his memory of last night began to filter back slowly. As he remembered his surreal experience with helping Batman and Nightwing and facing down the actual Scarecrow himself, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

Feeling a little bit anxious now, Tim gingerly shifted his legs to the side of the bed, noting that he was dressed in some comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt that was just barely a bit too big for him. Though his clothing from the night before was missing, his phone was on the nightstand next to the bed. He picked it up, noted the time and date (10:17am Saturday), and carefully pulled off the sensors connecting him to the medical machines.

In the back of his mind, Tim was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to do this, especially when the machine started whining persistently in their medical device-like way, but he needed to get up and move around.

After a trip to the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom, Tim poked his head cautiously into the hallway. It appeared he was in the middle of some long hallway that was lined on either side with mostly closed doors. If he looked to one end, though, he could see a staircase leading downwards.

Quietly, he slipped out of the room and padded out on socked feet (as he was unable to find his shoes as well)

“This must be Wayne Manor?” he thought to himself as he looked around. “I wonder where everyone is?” Tim looked at his cell phone in his hand. “I suppose I can call or text Dick, but what if he’s still asleep. I kinda don’t wanna wake him--”

Tim’s train of thought was derailed when the door to one of the side bedrooms closest to the stairs opened up and a woman walked out, bumping into him and causing her clipboard and pens to fall to the carpeted floor.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Tim apologized as he regained his footing and immediately knelt down to pick her things and offer them back to her.

“It’s alright,” the woman said. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone else this morning.”

As she took back her things, Tim took a better look at the woman. She was an older lady, maybe in her mid-thirties, dressed in violet scrubs with her shoulder-length brown hair tied up into a neat ponytail at the base of her neck.

“Are you a nurse?” Tim asked curiously.

The woman nodded. “The name’s Dana. And you are?”

“Tim,” he offered hesitantly. “I’m just visiting.”

“Friend of Dick’s?”

Tim nodded.

Dana smiled warmly. “Well nice to meet you Tim. It’s not often I see another living soul wandering Wayne Manor before noon except for Alfred.”

The teenager perked up at that. “Is he around?”

Dana checked her watch. “He should be down in the kitchen preparing brunch for Mr. Wayne and his son. Do you know where it is?”

Tim shook his head.

“I’ll show you down. I’m on my way to check in with Alfred anyways.” She reached over to the open door and began to pull it shut. Tim caught a brief glimpse of someone apparently asleep in the bed before the door closed.

“Is someone sick?” Tim asked hesitantly as he followed Dana down the hall towards the stairs.

She gave the boy a sympathetic look. “Sorry kiddo. Can’t say. Patient privacy rules and all that jazz.”

---

Within the American Embassy in Port-au-Prince, Janet sat in an office opposite a member of the Haitian security force alongside a translator and an official from the Embassy. Though she could speak French just fine herself, the Embassy wanted to have their own officials there to record the encounter.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen your husband?” the security officer asked.

“It’s been about a week now,” she said meekly, her hand clutching a tissue.

“And why haven’t you reported him missing for so long?

Janet sniffled and shook her head. “Jack and I had a horrible fight,” she explained as tears welled up in her eyes. “He… Before we left the United States, he found out our son…” Janet bowed her head and indulged in a shaky steadying breath. “...Our son isn’t ‘his’ son.”

When she lifted her eyes to glance around herself, she could see understanding in the faces of the men and women around her. She wiped at her eyes with her tissue.

“I thought we could talk about it after we arrived in Haiti for the dig,” she continued. “I didn’t want us to have any more fights in front of our son. I thought we could… sort things out here and go back home and things could go back to normal!”

She shook her head and began twisting the tissue in both hands.

“So what happened?” the officer continued?

“Setting up the dig site and getting everything started took longer than expected. We’ve been here nearly a month, but hadn’t gotten around to talking. Then, last weekend, there was a rainstorm. So we couldn’t do any work and had nothing but time on our hands… So…” Janet’s eyes became haunted. “So we tried to talk.”

Janet shook her head again and covered her mouth to stifle a small sob.

“Continue?”

"We got into another fight. Jack… he has a bit of a temper. He wrecked a bunch of things in our tent. Everyone in camp heard it. Then he stormed off into the jungle. I tried to follow him, but it was starting to get dark and it was raining too hard. I had to turn back before I lost track of the camp."

Janet sniffled and recomposed herself. "I was hoping after he'd calmed down he'd return to camp, but he never did."

"So why wait until yesterday to report him missing?"

"The weather," Janet explained. "The storm lasted nearly the entire week. No one's satellite phone worked, and the roads between the camp and Port-au-Prince were closed until today due to flooding and danger of mudslides. Last night was the first time in days that we had clear skies."

Janet whimpered, tears flowing freely now.. "I'm so worried about Jack. What if he got lost in the jungle due to the weather? What if he got hurt?! What am I going to tell our son?!"

As she buried her face in her hands, the officer nodded to the embassy officials. "We'll gather a team to help search the jungle around your campsite for your husband. In the meantime, I'd like to ask that you remain here in the city until he's found. Is your expedition team able to function at the dig site without you or your husband?"

Janet nodded. "My assistant is handling things right now. I'll call her to let her know I'll be in Port-au-Prince for a few more days."

"Thank you for all your help, officer," the embassy official stated. "Well get Mrs. Drake set up in a hotel nearby in case you get any news."

"Thank you," Janet echoed gratefully. "I don't know what I'd do without your help."

Chapter 29: Chapter 29 - Breakfast

Chapter Text

“Really?” Tim looked up from his omelette in surprise.

From across the breakfast nook, Bruce nodded with a fond expression. “Yes really. You’ve done a lot for our family, and we… I… owe you quite a bit for that. Dick, Alfred, and I talked about this, and we would all really like it if you were able to spend more time with us, especially since you’re going to be pretty much home alone for the rest of the summer.”

Tim felt his face and ears heat up and he turned his eyes back onto his plate. “That’s really not necessary. You don’t owe me anything, and I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t want to impose on any of you more than I already have.”

“Now Timothy,” Alfred spoke up as he refilled the juice glasses around the table. “You spending time here at the Manor during the summer would not be an imposition in the least.”

“And I was thinking I could hang out with you from time to time during the day. Maybe catch a ball game or go with you when you want to take photos somewhere in or outside the city,” Dick chimed in with a smile.

“That would be nice,” Tim said, his tone wavering, the temptation clearly there for the young teenager to reach out and grasp, but still he hesitated. “...But what would I tell Mrs. Mac or my mom? It’s not like my parents are here right now to approve or reject the idea of me getting to know you all. I dunno about Mom, but I think Dad might like the idea of becoming a ‘family friend’ to the Waynes, if only for future business connections and social climbing.”

Bruce’s face sobered, though he tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “And your mother? What would she think?”

“Well, she can be a bit… overprotective,” Tim admitted reluctantly. As he glanced up and saw the more serious looks Bruce, Dick, and even Alfred were giving him, the boy was quick to amend his words. “I don’t mean like in a bad way!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s just always been like a military-grade helicopter mom. There’s the usual stuff when I was younger: overprotective, controlling, over-bearing…” Tim shrugged as he ticked off his mom’s most well known traits. “...oh and heaven help the school board if she ever got involved with the PTA that year.”

He shook his head at some memory that flickered through his mind as he nudged a piece of omelette around before spearing it with his fork. “Honestly… it was kind of a relief when she let me go to boarding school a few years back for middle school. It made the summer and winter holidays back home easier to endure, and I was able to make more friends at Brentwood without her hoving and judging everyone. And though the summer’s been really weird with my folks being in Haiti and of course everything with you guys, this has been the best summer I’ve ever had.”

As Tim ate, completely nonplussed by anything he just said, he completely missed the shared look of concern between the other three adults around the breakfast table.

Bruce finally cleared his throat lightly to get Tim’s attention. “So… truthfully to the best of your knowledge, how do you think your mother would react if we were to arrange for you to meet Dick in public and start down a path of the Waynes becoming ‘family friends’ with the Drakes through you and him?”

Tim mulled over the idea, a thoughtful expression on his face that caused Bruce’s heart to ache a little… It was just like Jason’s when he was younger. “Well, of course I’d be thrilled, and I think Dad would like it for the other potential. Mom..” He chewed on his bottom lip a little and worried a small piece of egg with his fork into crumbs too small to be speared. “It’s hard to say. If she knew about the Batman stuff, it’d be bad. She’d probably use it to blackmail you into keeping your distance from me.”

“She has a thing against Batman?”

“No. She has a thing against me being in any proximity to anything perceivable as ‘dangerous’.” Tim rolled his eyes with an exasperated air.

Dick’s tone was cautious as he voiced his own question. “So if she knew about anything you did so far this summer…?”

Tim’s gave a soft bark of laughter as he shook his head. “I would be under house arrest for the rest of my life.”

The boy’s statement was said in the tone of a joke, just meant to be overdramatic teen angst. Bruce knew it. Dick and Alfred knew it too, mentally.

However, knowing what they did, Tim’s innocent words landed quite differently with the Wayne household emotionally.

Fortunately, the boy decided to choose that moment for a slight change of subject.

“By the way,” Tim asked. “I ran into a nurse named Dana on the way downstairs. Is there someone sick upstairs?”

Tim could feel the way his question seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room. The boy glanced around at everyone’s stricken faces and immediately wished he could snatch those words back. “I… I’m sorry if I misspoke. Just forget I said--”

“It’s alright,” Bruce said hesitantly. “Yes, there is someone who is not well upstairs.” He took a measured breath and released it slowly. “She’s a close friend of the family who was in a car accident a number of years ago. She’s been comatose ever since.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “That’s… awful.”

Bruce nodded. “Normally, she’d be in a hospital or a long-term care center, but with Gotham being… well.. Gotham… we had her moved into the Manor, and we have a nurse who monitors her care daily.

“Will she ever wake up?”

“We hope so.”

For a long moment, there was just a heavy silence that clung to the breakfast nook between everyone. Then Dick spoke up, his voice lifting the mood as he pulled out his phone and brought up a website.

“Hey Timber! So getting back on topic of having an official ‘introduction’ out in public without masks and covert operations, there is a summer film festival taking place in Robinson Park this week.” He shoved his phone over to Tim, whose expression brightened at the website.

“Oh! I know that film festival! Dad and I used to go every summer. Mom’s not big on film noir movies, but Dad and I can’t get enough of this stuff.” His smile became a little melancholy. “I wasn’t sure about going this summer without him.”

“Well, if you’re interested, we can ‘run into each other’ there. Keep running into each other over the week, and just have fun. Hell, maybe I can even drag B or Alfie down there one or two of those nights?”

“I’d like that.”

“Great!” Dick smile was at least a thousand watts as the mood finally lifted completely. “Now… How would you like a tour of the Batcave after breakfast?”

Chapter 30: Chapter 30 - Gotham and Haiti

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity, both in Gotham City and in Haiti.

---

"Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Mac."

"My pleasure Timothy. Are you going out again today with Richard?"

"Yeah. His old circus is in town and setting up Bristol. Dick said he'd take me on a tour and I can take a lot of photos of the performers and animals."

The old Scottish woman smiled and nodded. "Make sure you mind your manners while you're out and about. Will Richard be bringing you home afterwards?"

"It might be kinda late when everything's done. Is it alright if I spend the night at Wayne Manor?"

Mrs. Mac nodded. "As long as it's alright with Mr. Pennyworth, and you call me to let me know when you've arrived and when you'll be returned home." She sighed. Truth be told, the elderly woman felt better if the boy ended up spending the entire weekend with the Waynes. After that horrible scare with Tim being home all alone while the Scarecrow was running amok in the park less than a mile away from him, Mrs. Mac slept better knowing he'd be safe and supervised over the weekend.

Timothy meeting Richard Grayson-Wayne during that film festival in the park was the best thing that could've happened to him.

While initially Mrs. Mac thought it odd that an affluent young man like Richard would gravitate towards a friendship with teenager like Timothy, the old Wayne butler, Mr. Pennyworth, was able to put her concerns to rest.

"Losing his brother last year took a toll on master Richard," Alfred had told her when he invited her for tea one day while the boys were at a baseball game. "Timothy seems to draw out Richard's elder brother instinct like nothing else. It's been wonderful to see that light return to the young master's eyes, and to have him come home more frequently, even if it's only to visit Timothy."

Mrs. Mac had nodded. "Truth be told, I'm glad for Timothy to have made a new friend here closer to home. Though he's quite mature for his age, it never sat well with me that he was going to be left home alone for the entire summer. I was concerned about the age gap between him and Richard, but hearing you explain it, now it makes sense. I think it's good for Timmy to have a positive big brother figure in his life, all things considered."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well… things are not quite good between Mr and Mrs Drake. If a split happens, then I'm certain Timothy will remain with his mother when he's not at school, and I don't think his father will remain in his life."

"Are you concerned if Timothy is raised alone with his mother?"

"Oh not in any abusive way. My concern is that Mrs Drake tends to smother and isolate Timothy when it's just the two of them. The boy was her miracle baby after all."

"Miracle?"

"Poor Mrs Drake suffered a number of miscarriages before being blessed with Timothy, and she hasn't been able to have any other children since. As a result, she's very protective of him."

"I see…"

---

Private Investigator Jason Bard glanced around himself slowly, unable to completely mask the awe that usually accompanied visitors who visited the interior of Wayne Manor for the first time.

“I must say, when Babs called me up and asked if I could meet with one of her friends as a favor to her, I had no idea the start of my day would be here of all places.”

Bruce Wayne smiled politely at him. “Miss Gordon has been a friend of my children for years, and you come highly recommended by her. Former detective at GCPD, worked under her father directly before retiring early due to injury. You have a reputation for getting to the ‘truth’ of a matter, no matter how challenging.”

As Bruce led him towards his study, Bard regarded the billionaire with a skeptical eye. “Glad to hear my reputation precedes me, but that does make me wonder…” After stepping into the office and once the door was closed behind him, Bard continued. “...Why have you requested me specifically? I would think that a man such as yourself would have a whole agency worth of bright and shiny spit-and-polish private investigators on retainer for your sleuthing needs.”

“I do… for the company.” Bruce admitted.

Bard tilted his head after taking a seat opposite Bruce at the big desk. “And the reason I’m here is because of something personal. You need something checked out, but discreetly.”

Bruce nodded. “Do you know the story surrounding my youngest adopted son?”

“Who doesn’t?” Bard gave him a sympathetic look. “Jason Todd-Wayne’s life story was like Gotham’s own Greek tragedy. Shakespeare would’ve been hard pressed to pen a sadder work.”

“Then you know about his younger brother?”

The former police detective stiffened. His face was momentarily stunned, then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Babs… Oh I see what you did there. Clever girl…”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, suddenly guarded in his posture and expression.

Bard chuckled sardonically. “The Gotham General Kidnapping… Thirteen years ago, I was on that case. It was one of my first as a Detective.” Then he sighed. “It never sat well with me that we could never find that kid, but when the case went cold, the precinct couldn’t justify spending any more resources on it.” Then his brown eyes widened, and he dared to glance at Bruce. “Do you have a new lead?”

Bruce nudged a photo over to Bard. "My eldest son has recently befriended a boy he met at a film festival several weeks ago. His name is Timothy Drake."

The detective looked at the photo. It was a recent one of Tim with Dick. Bard hummed softly as he looked things over. “Well… appearance-wise, he does have the right coloring. Black hair… Blue eyes… The name is almost a little too on-the-nose. I mean, it’s the same name. If a kidnapper decided to keep the child, I would’ve thought they’d pick a completely different name. But Tim is a common name and there are scads of black haired, blue eyed children in the world. There’s got to be more reason to bring someone like me in.”

A couple more photos were slid over to Bard’s side of the desk. “You recognize the top photo?”

Bard nodded. “It’s a still from the security camera footage the night the baby was kidnapped from the hospital. Only known image of the kidnapper.”

“Now the photo underneath is one of Tim with his parents back when he was three. He actually met my eldest at the circus before…” Bruce shook his head. “Look at Tim’s parents.”

Bard slid the second photo out from behind the first. He peered at it intently, then sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes bounced a few times between the two photos before narrowing. “Ok… There is definite similarity here, but it’s still not enough. It could still be a coincidence.”

“Tim’s birthday is July 19th.”

“I know that,” Bard remarked.

Bruce smiled grimly. “No… Mr. Bard. Timothy Drake’s birthday is July 19th.”

Bard met Bruce’s gaze incredulously. “Are you sh*tting me?”

Bruce shook his head. “Dick found out this past weekend.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bard muttered as he swiped his hand over his face as he looked at the photos before him. “This still isn’t enough to get a DA to sign off on anything, you do know that, Mr. Wayne.”

“Yes… But?”

Bard sighed. “But it is enough to get this old broken down bloodhound sniffing around for the kind of evidence that will make a DA sit up and take notice… at least enough to order a DNA test.” He looked down at the photo of Janet Drake with a scowl. “If this woman is who we think she is, she has got to be the luckiest, most brazen kidnapper I’ve ever crossed in my career.”

Bruce nodded. “Do you need anything more from me?”

“Does Timothy or his family suspect anything about what you’re implying here?”

The billionaire shook his head. “We’ve been careful to hide our suspicions from Tim. If we happen to be wrong, and it is all coincidence, we don’t want to upset him or his family. He’s a really kind boy.”

“And his parents?”

“Actually the Drakes are out of town in Haiti for the remainder of the summer. They’re archeologists and they’ve been gone since June. The family’s housekeeper, Mrs. McIlvaine, is Tim’s temporary guardian until they return.”

Bard gathered up the photos and slipped them into a black folder Bruce offered him. “I’ll draw up a contract once I get back to my office. After you sign on the dotted line, I’ll start my investigation. I promise I’ll be discreet and I’ll keep you updated on my progress. If this boy is Timothy Todd, we’ll know soon enough.”

---

Janet looked out over her team at the dig site. She wore a somber expression as she addressed the men and women before her.

“I wish I had better news for you all, but… Unfortunately the Hatian security force and the US Embassy has thus far been unable to find Jack, though they’ve been searching the jungles around us for the past couple of weeks.”

A murmur of concern washed over the team. Janet raised a hand to quiet them and continued.

“The Haitian officers wish to examine the dig site… in case Jack may have gone into them during the storm when he disappeared…”

There was a notable gasp from several members of her team. Cacophony rose up as everyone started speaking at once, some to Janet, others amongst themselves..

“But the ruins are still mostly unexplored! We still don’t know how deep the temple really goes.”

“And what we’ve already unearthed is so unstable! We’re still waiting on supplies to stabilize some of those catacombs for our own explorations.”

“Would Jack really have gone deeper in there by himself? He’s been so critical about the stability of these ruins and harping on us about safety.”

“But you know how he gets when he and Janet fight…”

Janet shook her head and raised her fingers to her lips, using them to force out a piercing cab-calling whistle. That got everyone’s attention and the noise died down again.

“Because of the officials’ need to investigate the ruins, they are asking for our assistance in keeping them safe in the process. I will be primarily responsible for this, though I will ask a few of you to assist. Can whoever has the current map of the ruins please bring them to my tent? I need to review them so that I can plot out the safest route for the officials and identify those areas that are structurally unsound.”

Once Janet dismissed her team one of them came over with a sympathetic look. "Is there anything I or the others can do to help out?" She asked. "This must be so hard on you and Tim."

Janet sighed. "It's definitely taken its toll on me, but I haven't told Tim about this yet."

"Why not?"

" I was hoping we'd have found Jack by now. I was hoping that I could make the call and tell him his dad went missing but everything's all right now. But now… If they don't find Jack… How do I tell my son that his father is missing? He'll be so upset, and I won't even be there to comfort him."

Janet received a hug from her friend and took a steadying breath. "If worse comes to worse, we'll probably have to shut down the expedition. If it comes to that, I'll call Tim and tell him what happened right before we go back to the States. At least that way, he'll only have to wait a few hours before I'm home, and I can be there to comfort him through the worst of it."

---

"Watch your six, Timberly!"

“Timberly?! Serious--OW!”

“I told you!”

“How did you do that? What did you ricochet that off of to hit me in the back?”

“Umm… I just sorta did it in the heat of the moment. Practice and experience, y’know…”

“There are cameras filming the stuff in the Cave, right?”

“Yeah….”

“Great! Can you show me? I wanna see what you did and how the angles lined up!”

“Oy… This was supposed to be self defense practice. When did this turn into a geometry lesson?”

“Please?”

“Alright alright… C’mon Timbit.”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle as Tim’s sparring session with Dick down in the Cave was interrupted. Though these sparring sessions were supposed to be lessons in self defense, Bruce couldn’t help the wave of nostalgia as he watched the two boys’ practice devolve into banter and distractions.

Tim was definitely no acrobat like Dick, nor a brawler like Jason. However, the small teenager had some training in martial arts, specifically in taekwondo based on the forms Bruce observed. However, the elder veteran vigilante noticed that what the boy lacked in agility and raw power, he seemed to be naturally making up for in observation, precision, and calculation.

The boy was a thinker.

Bruce came up to the boys at the computer. A silent part of him was churning uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach at what he was about to do.

“You are only training the boy in self defense. He doesn't need to know this."

"It's a useful skill to have. It might save his life one day."

"You aren't training him to be a Robin!"

"I don't want him to be a Robin. I just want him to be safe. I can't protect him like I wish I could right now."

"He's not your son!"

"... but he could be…"

Bruce cleared his throat. Tim and Dick turned to him curiously.

"What up, B?" Dick asked.

"It looks like you two are transitioning from hand to hand combat into ranged?"

Tim looked sheepish. "It's just really cool. I thought that kind of move was only possible in video games or movies."

Bruce reached over to a corner of the workstation to snag a spare batarang. "Would you like to learn how to pull off a move like that?"

Tim's eyes lit up like it was Christmas. "Would I?!"

Dick laughed. "I'll set up the dummies for target practice. This is gonna be fun!"

Chapter 31: Chapter 31 - House of Cards

Chapter Text

Tim frowned as he looked at the email from Brentwood. It was nearly the end of July and some registration forms for the new school year had not been completed yet. Everything else had been taken care of for the new year, but in order for him to get his schedule, his father needed to complete the forms online and submit the first of the new school year’s tuition payments.

The teenager glanced at his phone and looked at the string of messages he’d left for his father both via voicemail and email. Two weeks had gone by and his dad hadn’t responded to even one of them.

Normally he would never bother his mom with this kind of thing. While she handled a lot of the school related concerns during the active school year, the financials were always handled by his dad.

Alfred passed by the library where Tim had been relaxing and noticed the boy’s troubled expression.

“Is something wrong, lad?”

Tim shook his head. “Nope. Just need to call Mom about a school thing.”

---

Bruce felt the vibration from his cell phone in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, then back up at Lucius. “Sorry. I need to take this call.”

His CFO nodded. “Quite alright, Bruce. I’ve got a Skype meeting in fifteen. Just don’t forget to sign those contracts before you leave the office today.”

Bruce gave the moderately tall stack of paper on his desk a wry look and nodded. Once his business partner had left his office and the door was shut, he answered the call.

“What’s the word, Bard?”

“There’s no way Timothy can be Janet Drake’s kid.” Bard’s voice was grimly triumphant over the phone, and Bruce allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

“What did you find?”

“Two main sticking points. First, Timothy Drake’s original birth certificate was a forgery. The one on file said he was born in a hospital in Trenton. Hospital has no record of male birth that date in question. There were five births at that hospital on July 19, 20xx and all of them were girls.”

“And the second sticking point?”

“Janet Drake had a miscarriage two weeks before Timothy was born.” Bard’s voice was a little more somber. “While researching Timothy’s original birth certificate, I found a death certificate for an unnamed Drake child.”

Bruce raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “So, Janet was pregnant, but lost her own baby. Something in her back then snapped and she just decided to steal someone else’s baby and claim them for her own?”

“That seems to be the long and short of it, yeah.”

“Do you think her husband was aware of the kidnapping?”

“I don’t think so. Based on my investigation, Jack Drake was on an archaeological dig in Machu Picchu from May 30th through July 21st.”

“Two days after Timothy was born,” Bruce mused aloud. “So what now, Bard?”

“I’m going to bring this up to the DA and see how long it will take for the state to open up a case, order a DNA test for Timothy, and issue a warrant for Janet’s arrest.” There was a moment of pause. “Even if he wasn’t aware of the kidnapping, it’s not likely Jack will be able to retain custody of Timothy. If his biological mother wasn’t comatose, they’d want to transition him to her care, but since she’s not able to…”

“I am a registered foster parent in the state’s system,” Bruce interjected. “And Catherine Todd has been under the legal guardianship of the Waynes since we first adopted Jason. She may be comatose, but we still hope she will one day wake up. Until that day comes, if it’s within my power, I’d like to keep her youngest son close to her.” Bruce sighed. “This is likely going to turn into a huge media circus as well, once the press realizes who Tim is and who he’s related to. My family is better equipped to handle that than a normal foster family.”

“I’ll mention that to the DA when I meet with him. I’ll let you know how that goes.”

---

“Janet!”

As Janet finished talking with the Hatian authorities about their most recent tour through the ruins looking for clues to Jack’s whereabouts, one of her assistants waved at her from her tent. She began to walk over to them. “What do you need?”

Her assistant looked uneasy as she held out Janet’s satellite phone. “It’s Tim. He’s asking for you.”

Janet paled visibly as she stared at the phone. She hesitated briefly as she reached out for it before finally steeling her nerves to take hold of it. With a parting nod to her assistant, she slipped into her tent and closed the entrance flaps.

“Yes Tim?”

---

Dick walked by Tim’s room and was about to knock on the door when he overheard him talking.

“Hi Mom…” he heard Tim’s voice through the cracked open door. “Is Dad busy? I need to ask him about some school stuff for the start of the year…”

With a small sigh, Dick lowered his hand and moved toward the stairwell. He paused as he saw Bruce coming up them. “Oh, hey B.”

Bruce looked to his eldest son. “I got a call from Bard today.”

Dick’s expression sobered. “Did he find anything?”

Bruce nodded before glancing around. “Where’s Tim?”

“He’s in his room on the phone with Janet right now. School stuff from the sound of it.”

“We’ll talk about it later, once Tim’s asleep.”

Dick nodded. Neither of them wanted to tip their hand to Janet that her secret crime was uncovered, and neither wanted to upset Tim until the last possible moment.

Unfortunately… what they wanted and what reality dictated were often two entirely different things.

“What do you mean he’s missing?!”

Tim’s raised agitated voice slipped past the gap in his door, and both Bruce and Dick’s heads snapped toward the guest room hallway. Quickly, they rushed to Tim’s room and slid the door open.

The young teenager turned to face them the moment he saw the door open. His expression was stricken, and his eyes were red rimmed, as if he were on the verge of crying. He raised a quick hand to stop them from entering or talking and shook his head. The other hand held his cell phone to his ear, and from where Bruce and Dick stood, they could hear the faint tinny female voice on the other line still speaking.

Bruce and Dick backed out into the hallway and listened in from afar to Tim’s side of the conversation.

“What happened? How long has he been missing?”

“... … … … … … …”

“Do they have any leads?”

“... … …”

“What about his phone? Can’t they track him using the GPS?”

“... … … … …”

“I… I see. What’s going to happen now?”

“... … … … … … … … … … … …”

“Okay Mom. Please keep me posted.”

“... … …”

“I love you too.”

Once the call was completed, Tim sat down heavily onto his bed and buried his face in his hands with a choked sob. Both Wayne men fully entered the room. Immediately Dick took a seat next to Tim and drew him into a side-arm hug while Bruce knelt in front of him. Concern lined both their faces.

“What happened Tim?”

Tim’s body shuddered before he brought his hands down, revealing his stricken blotchy tear-streaked face. “My dad’s missing.”

“Missing?!”

The boy nodded. “He and Mom had a fight over a week ago and he stormed out in the middle of the night. The dig site is an old set of ruins surrounded by jungles for miles.” Tim sniffled as he wiped at his eyes. “They’ve been searching for him… called in the Haitian authorities… but no one can find him.”

Voicing those last few words seemed to hit Tim hard and he tried unsuccessfully to choke back another sob. He leaned into Dick’s embrace and allowed him to pull him in tighter, letting him cry more freely into his chest. As Dick held Tim, Bruce reached out to stroke the boy’s hair in a comforting gesture, but they both shared a grim look.

---

Once Tim had cried himself to sleep and Alfred promised to keep an eye on him, Bruce and Dick were both suited up as Batman and Nightwing as they stood before the Zeta Tube that would take one of them to the Justice League Watchtower.

“Do you think she did something to her husband?” Dick asked.

“I’m not about to put anything past her,” Bruce said somberly.

“So the plan is for me to use the Zeta Tubes from the Watchtower to make your way into Haiti to investigate as Nightwing, while you stay here and watch over Gotham and Tim?”

Bruce looked at his son. “After the last several months, I know the League won’t trust me to run any international missions. You, however, are still in good standing with them and the leader of the Titans. This is also going to be a stealth mission, which I know you are well trained for.”

Dick nodded as he looked to his father. “I’ll find out what happened to Jack Drake. I won’t let you or Tim down.”

“I trust you… and be careful.”

Chapter 32: Chapter 32 - Walls Close In

Chapter Text

“I appreciate that you were here to support Timothy when he got that awful phone call, but I’m afraid it’s time for him to return home.”

Mrs. Mac regarded Bruce and Alfred with a polite nod before turning more careworn and concerned eyes towards Tim. Though the boy had slept through most of the previous night, his expression was still haunted and exhausted.

Bruce swallowed the lump that was stuck in his throat. “So Janet is on her way back?”

The old woman nodded. “After hearing how upset Timothy was about Mr. Drake’s disappearance, Mrs. Drake decided she could not remain in Haiti one moment longer. She’s taking the remainder of today to leave instructions for how her team is to wrap up the expedition, and then she will be taking the first flight back to Gotham tomorrow morning.”

“I see.” Bruce then turned his full attention to Tim, whose gaze seemed to be a million miles away. “Tim?”

It took a bit, but when Mrs. Mac touched the young teenager on the shoulder, he jerked a little and glanced around, only then realizing he’d been spoken to. His face flushed a little bit with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. I…”

Bruce gave him a small reassuring smile. “It’s alright. You’re going through a lot right now. I just want to let you know that if you need anything, you can always call me or Alfred or Dick. We’re here for you, alright?”

Tim’s eyes misted over as he nodded.

Gently, Mrs. Mac turned the boy so they could leave. “Thank you again for opening your home to Timothy, Mr. Wayne.” Then she turned to Alfred. “Mr. Pennyworth.”

As the two of them walked down the stairs towards the old woman’s car, Tim paused once to glance sadly over his shoulder at Bruce and Alfred before stepping into the vehicle.

Bruce watched in grim silence, his hands squeezed into tight fists as he watched the car drive away from Wayne Manor.

---

Janet Drake looked around the interior of the ancient ruins they’d been investigating with a sigh. There was still so much potential here, if only they could’ve made their way deeper into the catacombs and passed farther through some of the walled off hallways.

“I suppose some secrets just need to remain buried,” she whispered to herself.

“Hey Janet. Everything good here? I’m ready to drop you off at the the hotel.

She turned to address her assistant. “Yep. Everything needed from this room is already brought up to the surface. Make sure everything is sealed up tight before you all break camp after I leave. We don’t want looters getting in after we’re gone.”

---

It was shortly after two am when a group of three uniformed vigilantes appeared in the shadows of the jungle on the outskirts of the Drake Expedition Camp.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Nightwing whispered as he looked over the camp critically with his night vision lenses.

“No problem boss,” Beast Boy said with a snaggle-toothed grin.

“Glad to be of service,” Raven added from the depths of her dark cloak.

Nightwing nodded at both of them. Beast Boy and Raven were two of the newest and youngest of the Titans on his team right now, but they were promising. Both metahumans also had abilities that would allow this mission the greatest chance of success.

In addition to having the ability to use magic to teleport them to this campsite from Titans Tower, which turned out to be far faster and more stealthy than using the Justice League’s Zeta portal system, Raven could use her magic another way.

“Ok, Rae… Let’s make sure everyone stays asleep while we investigate.”

Fourteen-year-old Raven nodded. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos.” With her soft whispered chant and glowing eyes, Raven sent out a sleep spell through the camp. After a minute, the glow faded from Raven’s eyes and she regarded Nightwing. “They’re all deeply asleep now. No one should wake up until daybreak.”

“Great job Rae.” Nightwing then led the way stealthily into the camp. Beast Boy transformed into a small housecat and Raven took on her shadow form to follow their mentor over towards the largest tent of the basecamp.

Nightwing sighed as he looked things over. “Looks like Janet has already left for Port Au Prince,” he said as he noted the neatly cleaned up side of the tent with no personal effects. Then he looked to the other side where there was a second cot. While things had been packed up, the suitcase and backpacks were still there. A quick glance over the attached leather tag revealed the contact info for Jack Drake. He made short work of the flimsy luggage lock and opened it up to reveal some of the clothing folded neatly within.

“My turn to work my magic,” Fifteen-year olod Beast Boy said as he shifted from the housecat into a full sized bloodhound. He dug his new canine nose into the closing and inhaled deeply.

“Got the scent, BB?”

“Yep,” the green bloodhound nodded. Once the suitcase was closed, the teenage meta began trying to follow the scent. “Hmmm… The man’s scent is really faint.” he remarked once they were outside the tent. “How long did your friend’s mom say his dad was missing?”

“A little over a week?”

Beast Boy shook his head, his long ears flopping this way and that. “Nuh-uh… This scent is too faint. It’s been way longer and…” he took another sniff around the camp, pausing both in open areas and beneath covered shelters where artifacts had been laid out for examination. “...it must have rained at some point since he disappeared because the scent is literally washed away in areas that weren’t protected from it..

Nightwing frowned deeply. He got on his comm link. “Did you catch that Cy?”

From their home base in Titans Tower in San Francisco, eighteen-year old Cyborg nodded. “Yep. Something’s fishy. Want me to cross-reference the weather from the last few weeks in Haiti?”

“Yeah, and see if you can find out when Janet Drake first notified Haitian authorities and the US Embassy about Jack’s disappearance.”

“Will do boss.”

Once off the comms, Nightwing looked at the campsite and the jungle beyond. “This could make things more difficult. If Jack went into the jungle and it rained afterwards, BB won’t be able to track them.” He looked to Raven. “Rae? Do you have a spell or something that could help you search for the path he could’ve taken?”

“Let me think abou--”

Raven’s words were interrupted by a low growling. Both she and Nightwing turned their heads to where Beast Boy was standing, head lowered and a soft growl was rumbling through his throat past bared fangs.

“BB? What’s wrong?” Nightwing asked as he approached the green hound.

“I don’t think we need Rae to search the jungle. I’ve picked up Mr. Drake’s scent in there.” The bloodhound pointed his nose toward the cave entrance leading into a set of ancient ruins.

“Are you sure? Jack’s scent could be there just because of the expedition work.”

“Yeah… but I also smell something else.” Beast Boy looked up at Nightwing. “Blood.”

Chapter 33: Chapter 33 - Jack Fell Down

Chapter Text

Janet yawned as she made her way through the airport at Port Au Prince. Her flight was leaving in thirty minutes and she could sleep on the plane. Fortunately, it was only a four hour flight from Haiti to Gotham, so it wouldn’t take long at all to get back home to her son.

She couldn’t wait to see Timothy. She missed him so much, and he needed her. It was worth taking the red eye flight off the island.

“With his father missing, it wouldn’t be good to send him back to Brentwood,” Janet thought to herself. “I should see about initiating a transfer to Gotham Academy, so he can stay close to home…. or maybe I could start homeschooling.” Janet’s eyes brightened at the idea. “That way, on the next expedition he can come with me!” She smiled to herself. “It would be wonderful to show Tim the world and my work. We could travel all year long and never even set foot in Gotham again!"

Janet glanced at the flight schedules. Boarding would start in fifteen minutes.

---

“You’re not gonna like this, Wing,” Cyborg said over the comms as Nightwing, Raven, and Beast Boy entered the ruins and were looking around the area. Beast Boy, still in his canine form, had his nose to the ground and was following a scent diligently.

“I already don’t like this Cy,” Nightwing muttered as he watched the path his younger teammate was taking. “What did you find?”

“The Haitian security force and the American Embassy have been searching for Jack Drake for nearly a month.”

“What?!” Nighwing hissed into the comms, trying to keep from raising his voice. That didn’t stop Raven or Beast Boy from pausing in their own search and lifting their heads to look at their leader.

Cyborg continued. “At the end of June there was a pretty big storm that blew through the islands. After the storms passed, Janet Drake reached out to the embassy to report Jack missing. In the initial report, Janet told officials that she and her husband got into a huge fight during one of the nights of the storm, and he left the camp in a rage. When he didn’t come back, Janet reached out to them, and they’ve been searching ever since.”

“Well,” Beast Boy spoke up thoughtfully. “That would explain while the man’s scent is so weak.”

Nightwing frowned behind his mask. “Is the smell of blood about that old too?”

The bloodhound tilted his head one way before lifting his nose to the air to sniff experimentally again. “I think so.” Beast Boy followed the scent and tracked it to a side tunnel that had been roped off with a sign.

“CAUTION: UNSTABLE STRUCTURES - DO NOT ENTER”

Raven reached out with her magic. “We’ll need to tread carefully. It appears that moisture from somewhere within the cave system these ruins are built on has weakened the walls and ceilings of this part of the ruins.”

Beast Boy scoffed. “What can a little water do to a place like thi--WHOA!!!”

Before the metahuman knew it, a piece of the stone floor beneath his feet crumbled away, nearly hurtling him into darkness below. Nightwing just managed to reach out and scruff him, pulling him back onto more solid flooring.

“Holy--! What happened to the floor?!”

“Erosion,” Nightwing said as he cautiously anchored himself with a grapple line and peered into the hole in the floor, examining the area beneath their feet with his night vision lenses. “Looks like there’s some sort of underground stream that has been eating through the rocks here for ages.” He pulled himself back up and regarded the remaining floor beneath them warily. “We should be ok if we remain on this side of the tunnel, but if you feel anything shifting beneath your feet, stop and let me know. If there’s one underground stream chewing through this place, there are probably others.”

A few minutes later, the three of them came to a dead end. There appeared to be a wall of rubble from an old cave in blocking the way.

"Is this it?" Beast Boy asked in confusion.

Nightwing looked around, focusing on the rubble suspiciously. Then he looked down. His eyes narrowed. "There's a boot print with a modern tread pattern half buried under these rocks." He looked at Raven.

With a nod, the cloaked girl cast another spell. The fallen rocks and blocks began to glow and float. They moved put of the way, or rather, back into their original places, revealing that the halfway continued.

Also there was a strong breeze that blew through from deeper within.

"The scent is stronger now!" The bloodhound said with a wag of his tail.

Nightwing and Raven followed quickly after Beast Boy as he led them through the tunnel. Eventually, it opened up to a large cavern that appeared to be part of some place of worship before the underground river which ran through this place eroded away half the floor, leaving a cliff's edge where an altar and statue once stood.

"Oh no."

"What wrong?"

Beast Boy gave Nightwing a worried canine look. "I can smell blood over here on the floor, but Mr. Drake's scent… it's strongest over here." And he pointed to where the floor had fallen away, and where ten yards down were jagged rocks and a swiftly moving small river.

Nightwing sighed. “Rae, can you fly down and see if you find…” He paused. “...anything?” Once she’d transformed into her shadow form and flew down into the ravine, Nightwing used a small aerosol can of Luminol from his utility belt and the black light function of his flashlight to examine the scene.

It was just like Beast Boy had said, there was blood splatter. Nightwing could see where it started. It looked like someone had been struck in the middle of the room with a blunt object, leaving a distinctive spray of splatter on the floor. With his detective training, NIghtwing followed more blood spots, this time from downward drips, alongside two sets of footprints. One set was larger, shuffling backwards unsteadily… The other set was distinctly smaller and more narrow, moving forward after the other.

Moving toward the ledge…

“Nightwing.”

Raven returned to the others, two items clutched in her raven form’s shadowy claws. She dropped them into Nightwing’s open hands.

One was a satellite phone with an industrial strength protective case. The glass screen had a spiderweb of cracks, but that could just be the outer plexiglass shell. The device itself appeared intact.

The other item… was a full sized black Maglite flashlight. The device was a little over a foot in length and felt like it weighed at least two pounds. Nightwing examined the head of the flashlight and just to be certain sprayed it with Luminol.

Under the black light, the flashlight head lit up brightly from the dried blood staining it.

---

It was four am when Bruce’s “secured” phone began to ring. The distinctive ringtone was from the device reserved for calls made to “Batman” and not “Bruce Wayne”. It jerked him out of his light slumber and he answered it with a deep gravelly tone.

“Yes?”

“It’s me.”

At the sound of his eldest son’s voice, Bruce sat up fully in his bed. “Status update?”

“She murdered him. Janet Drake murdered her husband.“

Bruce’s blood ran cold in his veins. Any thoughts of sleep were now long gone as he swung his legs over his bed and reached for his nightrobe. “Evidence?”

“A copy of everything we discovered is being uploaded to the Cave systems now,” Nightwing said. “Photographs of the crime scene and murder weapon. A flashed copy of Mr. Drake’s cell phone, including a video he’d been trying to record at the time of his murder.”

“His body?”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “We weren’t able to find the body. There’s an underground river system that runs through these ruins, and it looks like Janet dumped his body into it. We tried following it, but no dice. There are too many branching streams and submerged caves littering this place. It would take us days, if not weeks, to search them all.”

By now, Bruce had made his way down to Cave. His main workstation was awake and he could see that it had just finished downloading the data back from Nightwing.

“B… From what we can tell, Janet’s already on a flight back to Gotham. She’ll be there in a few hours. You can’t let her reach Tim. Who knows what she’ll do to him once we get this information about Jack to the Haitian authorities and US embassy.”

Bruce had already begun opening files and examining the photos and a video from Jack’s phone, his lips pressed into a grim line and his eyes narrowed.

---

Jason Bard groaned as he rolled over in his bed and peered blearily at his phone, which was going off with some weird grating sound that was similar to an emergency weather alert, but not quite the same.

“What the blessed effing hell?” Bard muttered as he reached for the phone. “Did someone hack my--?”

Whatever else Bard had been about to say died in his throat. Lighting up his phone screen was the symbol of the Bat. The man sat up and stared at the phone in shock. He’d seen this kind of symbol a few times in the past, back when he worked for the GCPD as a detective under Commissioner Jim Gordon. This was exactly the same as when the Commissioner used to get “anonymous” tips and evidence for active police investigations from the Bats!

With a dry mouth and a lump in his throat, Bard tapped on his screen. The warning alert silenced and the Bat symbol disappeared, replaced by a compressed file. When he opened it, several photos, a map of a set of… ruins(?), and a video file appeared on his phone. Bard’s eyes widened as he recognized the man on the still preview image of the video.

“Jack Drake?”

With a slightly trembling hand, Bard pressed the play button.

---

“Hey Steven. It’s Jack. I’m sending you this as a video message because the satellite reception here in Haiti is sh*t, and I need to get this entire message to you in one piece as soon as possible.”

Jack Drake raked his fingers through his wet brown hair. His face looked worn, like he hadn’t slept in days. In the distance, there was a faint sound of rumbling thunder

“f*ck, Stevie… You were right about Janie and Tim, but not like you thought… We thought… God damn it!”

A larger crack of thunder echoed through whatever place Jack was recording from. The video shifted slightly. The background was changing. It looked like Jack was in some sort of dark cave, with a small hand lantern the only source of light he carried with him besides his phone. When another crack of thunder echoed through the cave, it sounded farther away.

But there was now the sound of swiftly moving water nearby too.

“You were right… Tim’s not my son,” Jack said mournfully. “But… He’s not Janie’s son either.”

“She… She stole him.” Jack appeared to choke on the words, as if they didn’t want to leave his mouth. “She kidnapped him. She told me tonight. She had another miscarriage. She lost our baby…”

The man on the video appeared to break down briefly, his face falling into his free hand. “Oh god… my baby… all this time…”

Jack took a deep breath and scrubbed at his eyes angrily. “Stevie. I need your help. Tim may not be my son, but I can’t let Janet get anywhere near him again.”

The man’s face looked troubled. “Something’s not right with her head. Even when she was telling me the truth, she kept insisting Tim was hers. It… She didn’t sound right.” He paused, shook his head, then continued. “Janie’s sick. I need to get her help, but we need to make this right for Tim too. I’m gonna try and wrap things here in Haiti and get us both back to Gotham as soon as we can. But, I need you to go to the police or a PI and show them this video. We need to find out who Tim’s real parents are. There’s a family out there who’s been suffering for years because of what Janie di--.”

“Jack? What are you doing in here?”

A woman’s voice cut through Jack’s train of thought. The man froze and glanced over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at the voice and his voice took a stern firm tone. “I’m trying to collect my thoughts, Janie. Go back to the camp!”

The video’s image shifted to darkness and disorienting shapes and colors. When the movement stilled, one could see what appeared to be the texture of a pair of blue jeans.

“You’re angry with me,” Janet observed calmly off screen.

“No sh*t, I’m angry,” Jack snapped back, similarly off screen. “You stole a baby!”

“Tim is our son!”

“No he’s not!”

“We loved him! We raised him!”

“You kidnapped him! All these years, you let me think he was ours!”

“He is ours!”

“No he’s not! God! Janie! Do you even hear yourself?!”

The sound of distant rumbling thunder echoed through the chamber. When Janet spoke again, it was calmer, more resigned.

“You never wanted our son, did you?”

“I wanted our baby… Janie… Our flesh and blood… But that baby died years ago. And somewhere out there is a family that wanted Tim… But you took him away from them. We need to give him back. Tim needs to be with his real parents.”

Jack sighed. “Janie… I love you… and I love Tim. But what you did was wrong! We need to make it right… and then we can get you some help. We can fix this…” The video shifted slightly. It appeared that Jack had turned away from Janet. From the camera, upside-down, one could see Janet’s legs and lower torso in the frame. She had a long black flashlight in her hands. She appeared to be breathing hard, and the beam of light from the Maglite trembled.

“Just go back to camp, Janie. I’ll be there in a bit. I need… I need a moment.”

The video shifted, as if Jack was bringing it up to continue where he left off.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching Jack from behind.

Then the image on the video flipped wildly as the sound of a sickeningly wet crunch and an anguished cry interrupted everything. The video’s image went pitch black, as if it had fallen camera side down onto the ground.

All the recording contained from then on were the disturbing sound of someone being struck repeatedly… Then the sound of someone being shoved… and after a moment a loud splash could be heard.

Then there was nothing but the sound of someone breathing heavily, muffled sobs, and distant thunder.

Several long minutes later, the breathing and sobbing had calmed and footsteps could be heard. The phone was picked up and the camera shifted. There were jeans in the frame again, but these were splattered with dots of blood. The face of the carrier couldn’t be seen, but after a moment the image of the video began to flip end over end until finally it stopped with a crunch. Somehow the phone had been caught between some rocks right next to a swollen underground river, just barely missing getting dragged away by the raging currents.

Then the video ended.

Chapter 34: Chapter 34 - At What Cost

Chapter Text

“Do you see her yet, Mrs. Mac?”

“Not yet, dear. But her flight has arrived. She should be out here soon.” The old woman’s eyes scanned the swarm of people entering the waiting area from the concourses at the Gotham International Airport.

Tim was scanning the crowds as well. His sharp blue eyes darted between all the faces. Then they stopped and he smiled. “There she is.” He started to take a few steps forward. “Mom!”

Janet paused and glanced around herself. Once she saw her son, she smiled with relief. “Tim!” She began to walk towards him.

Until she was stopped.

“Mrs. Janet Drake?”

The woman found her path blocked by a large unkempt man in a trench coat. “Yes,” she said coolly. “That’s me.”

“My name is Detective Bullock with the GCPD. I need you to come with me, maam,” he said as he showed his badge to her.

Janet’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about my husband’s disappearance?”

Bullock nodded.

“Mom?!”

Janet glanced around the police officer and her breath caught in her throat. There was another officer with Tim and Mrs. McIlvaine, a hispanic woman who was showing her own badge to the old housekeeper. Janet didn’t care about that, though. What was seared into her eyes was the confused concerned look in her son’s face.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

Janet took a breath. Her poor boy was so frightened. She needed to be strong for him. “Everything’s alright, my love. The officer just needs to talk to me about your father’s disappearance.” She gave him a reassuring smile, which appeared to have the calming effect she hoped for. “Just do what the officer tells you and stay with Mrs. McIlvaine until I get home. Do you understand?”

Tim’s eyes darted between the officers, Mrs. Mac, and his mother before he swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes Mom.”

Janet echoed his nod. “That’s my good boy. Now mind yourself with Mrs. Mac. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, Janet followed after Detective Bullock along with another uniformed officer that had accompanied him.

Once Janet and the other officers were out of sight, having rounded a corner. Mrs. Mac sighed. “Well then. If nothing else is needed, let me get you home, Timothy, so we can wait for your mother.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. McIlvaine,” Officer Rene Montoya said gently. “But I’m afraid we need you and Timothy to come with us over to the precinct.”

“What is this about, officer?” the old woman demanded.

“They think Mom had something to do with Dad’s disappearance.”

Both women looked at Tim, whose head was bowed, eyes closed. He opened them as he raised them to Officer Montoya. They were red-rimmed, as if he was close to tears. But he held tight to his composure. “Don’t they?”

The police officer's expression was somber, yet compassionate. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that, Timothy.”

A chill ran down Tim’s spine. He unconsciously leaned into Mrs. Mac’s sudden protective side-armed embrace as she voiced the question suddenly running through his head. “What do you mean, young lady?”

Montoya motioned for them to follow her in the opposite direction of where his mother had been taken. “We’ll explain everything at the precinct.”

---

Jason Bard sat opposite Bruce Wayne in his office at Wayne Manor. Neither man looked like they’d slept well the night before.

“So you gave all the evidence over to the DA last night.”

Bard stared at the mug of coffee Wayne’s butler had brought the two of them. “Yeah… The DA wasn’t happy to be woken up at five am, but when he saw what case this was about, and especially the things I got from Batman about Jack Drake, he jumped all over it.” The private investigator didn’t bother with any cream or sugar before taking a small sip. Then he sighed. “It is an election year, after all, so fortunately that lit a pretty big fire under him. The inevitable press from this will easily carry him into another term if all goes well.”

Bruce scowled into his own cup of coffee. “Nice to see that greed and personal self-interest can still be manipulated into doing the right thing in Gotham’s halls of justice.”

“A case like this, we need to take whatever advantages we can get, Mr. Wayne,” Bard remarked calmly. “Janet Drake managed to hide her crime for over a decade, and she may have a deadly new one to add to that list. She can’t be allowed to get away with either, for the sake of that poor boy.”

---

Janet stared at the papers laid out before her, her expression stoic. On the other side of the table in the small interrogation room, Detective Bullock watched her grimly.

Unlike what she’d been told at the airport, nothing in front of her was about her missing husband.

Everything in front of her was about Timothy.

“What is this about?”

---

Mrs. Mac studied each piece of paper laid before her and Timothy carefully. Each printed word was like a dagger to the heart. A quick glance over at Timothy brought tears to her eyes.

He was so pale, and she could see him shaking as he tried to make sense of all of this.

“This… has got to be a mistake,” he whispered. “This is wrong. My mom… I’m her son. She’s my mom…. She’d never…” Tim shook his head, shoving the documents away from him and back towards the officers. “Where is she? I need to see her! I need to talk to her! This is all wrong, and she’ll tell you.. She’ll tell ME the truth! This has to be some giant misunderstanding!”

Tim tried to get up to leave, but the old housekeeper snagged his arm gently, but firmly. “Please Timothy… You need to calm down.”

“I don’t need to calm down! I need my mom! Where’s my mom!”

Detective Montoya and a woman from Child Protective Services sat on the other side of the table opposite Timothy and Mrs. Mac. They shared a sad, somber look.

“I’m sorry Tim, but Janet Drake isn’t your mother.”

---

Bard had finally left, so Bruce took a walk through the halls of his home. He paused before a closed door. He knocked.

“Come in.”

Stepping through, Bruce greeted Dana with a nod. “Good morning. How is she doing today?”

The nurse smiled warmly at him. “Same as usual, I’m afraid. But she’s comfortable and resting peacefully.”

“Alfred’s prepared breakfast if you’d like to snag some before heading to your next appointment.”

Dana nodded as she packed up the last of her medical equipment and tablet. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” she said as she made her way out the door. “See you later.”

Once Dana left, the door closed behind her, Bruce’s smile faded. With a sigh, he took a seat on the chair beside Catherine’s bed, and then took her hand in his.

“We found him,” he said softly. “We found your son. We found Timothy.” Bruce drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Or rather… he found us.” A smile tried to form on his lips, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “I wish you were awake, Catherine. Tim… We’re going to bring him home to you, but he’s going through a lot right now, and he’s going to be really hurt. I wish you were awake…” Tears pricked at his eyes. “I wish Jason were still with us.”

Bruce rubbed at his eyes and sighed once more. “I swear… Until the day you wake I’ll do the best I can. I’ll do everything in my power to protect Tim, to keep him safe, until you can open your eyes and see him again. I promise, I won’t let what happened to Jason happen to him. Just… please… wake up soon. Your boy needs you.”

Gently, Bruce squeezed her hand before setting it back down upon the bed and quietly exiting the room.

---

“This is ridiculous! Of course Tim is my son!”

Janet glared at Detective Bullock, completely unphased by all the evidence presented before her and the line of relentless questioning.

“Mrs. Drake. We have documents…”

“Yes,” Janet snapped back. “You have papers. Lots and lots of stupid papers! But that does not negate the fact that Timothy is my child! My baby! My son!”

Bullock pinched the bridge of his nose. They’d been at this for hours now and this woman was refusing to acknowledge anything brought before her regarding how Timothy ended up in her possession. “No, he’s not. We have evidence--”

“Evidence?! You call this evidence?! This is garbage!” She began to rise from her seat. “Now if you don’t have anything else, you will deliver my son to me and let me go! Poor Tim’s got to be worried sick right now! I’ll have your badge for all the suffering you’ve caused him.”

However, before she could get too far, Janet’s path was blocked by another pair of officers who had just entered the room.

“What is this? Get out of my way!” Janet demanded angrily.

One of the officers went to Bullock and whispered into his ear. The detective’s eyes narrowed. “So the Haitian authorities finally got back to us and confirmed details from the video?”

The office nodded.

“Video? What video?”

“Mrs. Drake,” Bullock said gruffly as he approached the woman. One of the other officers came up and began to put handcuffs on her. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Jack Drake and the kidnapping of Timothy Todd.”

“What?!”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say… … ...”

---

It was sunset as the social worker’s car pulled up to the roundabout entrance of Wayne Manor. Tim barely even noticed, his phone was next to his ear as Mrs. Mac spoke with him, trying to reassure him.

“You have to be strong, lad,” The old woman said, though Tim could still hear the tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry I can’t be with you right now. I’m sorry I can’t take you home, but I will call Mr. Pennyworth and come to visit as soon as I can tomorrow. I promise you, we’ll figure this all out.”

“Yes, Mrs. Mac.”

“Timothy?” the social worker glanced at the back seat. Tim lifted his gaze hesitantly. “We’re here.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mac. I have to go.”

“If you need anything, Timothy, please call me, alright? No matter the time of day or night. I’m here for you.”

Tim nodded. “See you soon.” Then he ended the call and sat staring at the home screen numbly. He didn’t even realize the car door had been opened until a careworn hand rested on his shoulder.

“Timothy?”

He turned to the voice. “Alfred?”

The old butler nodded with a sad smile. “Come here, my boy. Let’s get you inside and settled.”

Tim stepped out to see the social worker already speaking with Bruce, giving him documents to read over and papers to sign, even as he was asking questions of Detective Montoya, who had accompanied them. Bruce glanced away briefly to meet Tim’s gaze, a sad weary expression on his own face as he nodded to the boy and seemed to wordlessly indicate to Alfred to get him inside.

Once inside Wayne Manor, away from the police and the social worker, Tim zeroed in on the only other person in the foyer.

“Dick?”

Dick Grayson looked tired, but he managed a weak reassuring smile for Tim as he opened his arms to the young teenager. A small spark of hope flared in Tim’s chest and he rushed into the tall man’s arms.

Even as he sank into the hug, taking whatever comfort he could in that moment to steady himself, Tim quickly pulled back to look at Dick. “You have to help me! This is all wrong!”

When Dick was silent, Tim misunderstood it for confusion and pushed forward. “The police think Mom hurt Dad! They think… They think she’s not my mom, but they’re wrong! They have to be! Please! You have to help me!”

Dick looked over Tim’s head to where Alfred stood behind him, his expression stricken. Then he looked back down at Tim. “I’m sorry Tim, but I can’t.”

Tim looked at Dick as if the young man had just slapped him. Surprise and hurt flashed across his face. “What? Why?! You’re Nightwing! And Bruce is Batman! The police are doing a DNA test, so they’ll know they’re wrong about me not being my mom’s kid, but my dad… They think she hurt him! That she’s the reason he’s missing! We have to help her!”

“Tim?”

Tearing his eyes from Dick’s stricken face, Tim turned to see Bruce looking at him. The older man looked so sad and serious, but compassionate. A heavy horrible weight settled in Tim’s chest as tears filled his eyes again.

“Bruce?” Tim pleaded softly in a small voice. “Why won’t you help me?”

Bruce sighed. “There’s something we need to show you.”

---

Janet paced her solitary cell like a caged animal. Her normally put together appearance was disheveled, and she had a wild look in her hazel eyes as she muttered under her breath.

“They took him...

“He’s all alone...

“He needs me…

“I’m his mother! He needs his mother!”

On the pass closest to the bars of the cell, Janet grabbed them and shrieked. “LET ME GO! MY SON NEEDS ME! YOU CAN’T KEEP ME FROM HIM!”

She sank to the floor with a broken sob. “I need my son. Tim… Where are you?”

---

Down in the Batcave, Tim stared at the computer monitors as any semblance of hope died in his chest.

The death certificate of a baby miscarried by his mother a few weeks prior to his own birth…

His own forged birth certificate next to the records from the hospital showing no sign of his own birth at their facility…

A short video clip of his father. Jack Drake’s words echoed back and forth in his head of the very short video clip, barely two minutes, that Bruce and Dick allowed him to watch… “You were right… Tim’s not my son… But… He’s not Janie’s son either… She… She stole him… She kidnapped him.”

The DNA test results…

Tim wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he felt a tightening in his chest and throat. He backed away from the computer and the others who watched him with so much pain and compassion reflected in their eyes.

Something flat and hard stopped his retreat.

Tim turned to look and froze.

The Robin uniform case.

“Jason…” he whispered wide eyed as a final nail slotted itself into the coffin that held the remains of his former life as Timothy Jackson Drake.

“Robin…” he reached out for the uniform with one hand, only to be stopped by the cold unforgiving glass. Tears streamed from his eyes down his cheeks as he felt his heart begin to ache. He remembered that night when he turned ten...

Nearly falling off the water tower...

Sitting with Robin...

Flying with him...

Taking THAT photo...

“My… my… bro--” Tim choked on the word as something within him fractured into a million searing shards of pain. His eyes squeezed shut tightly as he slid to the Cave floor with a grief-stricken wail.

His eyes still closed, Tim felt strong arms surround him and pull him close. He buried his face against that warm chest and sobbed broken-heartedly.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Bruce whispered into his hair as he felt the poor boy shaking into pieces within his arms. Tears coursed down his own face as he held the crying child tighter. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Kneeling on the floor next to them, Dick and Alfred stroked Tim’s back and hair respectively, their own face reflecting their shared grief.

They finally found Jason’s little brother.

They finally brought him home.

But at what cost...

Chapter 35: Chapter 35 - Summer's End

Chapter Text

Tim knelt before Jason’s headstone in the cemetery, His hand smoothed the dust from the polished marble, delicately plucking away a few red leaves that had fallen upon it from the Flowering Dogwood tree planted nearby. He glanced upwards to look at the leaves of the tree. Most of them were still green, but some were starting to bleed into their red autumn colors.

Fall was going to be coming early this year.

Tim felt a warm hand fall upon his shoulder. He glanced over and saw Bruce looking at him kindly.

“Ready to go home?”

The teenager turns his attention once more to Jason’s grave. However, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught glimpses of long-range telephoto lenses peeking from bushes and other forms of cover beyond the wrought iron security fence of the cemetery. Another quick glance at Bruce confirmed that his foster father was well aware of the paparazzi stalking them as well.

Although he wanted to stay longer, Tim nodded. Slowly he rose to his feet, using his brother’s headstone to help him up. He let his hand linger on the cold polished stone as he walked alongside Bruce toward the car where Alfred was waiting, only letting his hand leave marble at the last possible moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim noticed Bruce indulged in the same gesture. However, once his hand left his son’s headstone, Bruce’s arm wrapped around Tim’s back and settled on his shoulder protectively, drawing the boy close as they walked, using his massive frame to shield Tim.

The man’s grip on his shoulder tightened once the press finally started yelling at them. Though they’d been respectfully quiet while the pair were at Jason’s grave, the closer they got to the car, the more brazen ones began to try and draw their attention.

Tim tried to ignore them, but couldn’t help flinching as he heard the sound of the cameras’ rapid fire clicking and the increasing cacophony of voices. Some called for Brucie or Mr. Wayne. Many called for Timothy by name. The teenager unconsciously leaned into Bruce’s side and closed his eyes, trusting him to lead him safely to the car. Only once he heard the door open and the whisper of Alfred’s voice greeting him did Tim open his eyes to gratefully acknowledge the old butler before sliding into the backseat of the vehicle.

After giving a brusque “No comment” to the press who still continued to try and call out to them, Bruce slid in beside Tim and closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologized. “The paparazzi can be relentless, but you did well.” He tried to smile reassuringly at Tim, but the boy appeared to be in his own world as Alfred started up the car.

Tim had curled up as best he could on his side of the car. His head rested against the tinted windows and he had his legs drawn up so he could wrap his arms around them, holding them close. His eyes were unfocused as he watched the city outside them pass by.

After about twenty minutes of driving, they finally found themselves pulling up to Wayne Manor, but instead of pulling into the garage, they parked behind a car that was already in the roundabout in front of the mansion. Tim glanced up at the unexpected stop, and his eyes brightened at the sight of the vehicle. He looked at Bruce in askance, and the older man nodded with a smile.

With a smile, Tim quickly undid his seatbelt and exited the car so that he could greet Mrs. McIlvaine, hugging her once she stepped out of her own car and opened her arms to him. She stroked his hair fondly before glancing up to nod acknowledgement to both Bruce and Alfred, who had exited the car as well.

“It’s so good to see you, Tim,” she said as she pulled back a little to look him over. “How are you feeling today?”

The teenager shrugged with a slight lift of his shoulders as his smile faded. His eyes glanced back towards the gates, a haunted expression his his gaze.

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Mrs. Mac caught him gently by the chin and turned his face gently to hers. “None of that now, dear. Why don’t you go along with Alfred, change into something more comfortable, and we’ll have lunch shortly?”

When the older woman didn’t follow immediately after him and Alfred, Tim looked back at her in confusion. She waved him along. “Go along now. I’ll be up in a bit. Need to speak with Mr. Wayne first.”

Tim’s eyes darted between her and Bruce before Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder and ushered him through the front doors.

Once the boy was out of sight, Mrs. Mac sighed. “How was the visit to the cemetary?”

“The visit itself was fine,” Bruce said. “Quiet… peaceful. The press kept their peace for the most part while we were there. As we were leaving they got a little riled up, but Tim handled himself well.”

Mrs. Mac nodded. “Has he said anything?”

Now Bruce was the one who sighed. “No… Still nothing.”

The two of them regarded the manor and the boy tucked away within sadly.

***

Ever since that horrible day when Timothy was separated from his moth--Janet and the truth about who he really was was exposed, the boy had not spoken a single word. For the first few days, everyone thought he was just grief-stricken and not in a mood to speak with anyone.

However…

When the police and social workers tried to speak with him, to get his statement on a number of different things regarding his childhood and life with the Drakes, especially with Janet, the boy became more and more upset and anxious. Bruce had watched with horror as Tim “tried” to speak but nothing but strangled wheezes of air came out, which upset Tim even further.

“Psychogenic dysphonia... Functional aphonia. Loss of voice due to emotional distress”

Though new to Tim and Bruce, the terms given to them by the psychologist who eventually diagnosed him were heartbreakingly familiar to Alfred. Bruce himself had suffered the same condition for over six months when his parents were murdered when he was a child...

***

Bruce looked over at Mrs. Mac. “Thank you for agreeing to join the household staff here at Wayne Manor,” he said gratefully.

Mrs. Mac smiled reassuringly at him. “It was an offer I couldn’t refuse, Mr. Wayne. I’m more than glad to be allowed the chance to remain in Timothy’s life. I’ve known him since he was babe.” Then she shrugged “Also, really at my age and now with the… notoriety of my ‘previous employer’ the only option I could even consider was retirement… and I’ve never considered myself the retiring type.”

“Well… I think both you and Alfred share that in common,” Bruce remarked with a smile. “Shall we go in and let Tim know the good news, Mrs. Mac?”

Mrs. Mac returned his smile with a careworn version of her own. “Of course… and please, call me Harriet. ”

Chapter 36: Chapter 36 - Mother

Chapter Text

Quiet as a church mouse on Sunday morning, Timothy crept up to the door of a bedroom he hadn’t dared to open in the month since his entire life fell apart and he lost his voice along with what he thought was his family.

And now…

The only real family he had left were Mrs. Mac and…

…the woman on the other side of the closed door.

Timothy bit down nervously on his bottom lip as he stared at the door knob. Then, cautiously, he reached out to touch the cool metal sphere.

So many times in the past month, the moment his fingertips brushed the knob, the young teenager found himself pulling away from the door as if he’d been burned. This time, though, Tim let his hand slide forward, molding his fingers around the spherical shape. Once he had a firm grip, he took a small breath, released it slowly, and finally turned the knob.

The room inside was full of natural light, gently filtered by translucent pastel curtains draped over the windows. Various pots full of vibrant green plants rested on tables and shelves around the room. There were also books, photographs, and other knick-knacks here and there around the room as well. These had the effect of softening the presence of all the medical monitoring equipment near the lone hospital-style and its sole slumbering occupant.

Tim nervously… curiously…. settled his gaze on the woman sleeping on the bed. The first thing that made an impression was how delicate and tiny Catherine physically was. At thirteen years old, Tim stood only about five feet tall. If he was estimating correctly based on what he could see of her form beneath the intricate quilt resting on top of her, Catherine was only about that tall… maybe two or three inches past five feet? Tim swallowed hard.

She was so much shorter than Janet… at least by a good four or five inches.

All it would take would be one solid growth spurt in the next year or two for Tim to exceed her height.

Catherine’s hair and skin coloring was also different from Janet’s. While Janet’s skin was always somewhat sun-kissed due to her time out in the elements as an archaeologist in the field, Catherine’s was as pale as porcelain.

…Much closer to Tim’s own skin tone, if he was being truly honest with himself.

Their hair color was also similar. Whereas Janet’s was a bottle blond due to trying to hide the gray strands that had started to creep in, Catherine’s long wavy locks were jet black at the roots just like Tim’s…

Although….

Tim edged closer to Catherine, wary of making too much noise, despite the fact that he knew no sound he could make would be able to wake her. He reached over and delicately lifted the end of a lock of her hair that was draped over one shoulder.

He stared at it, fascinated.

The tips were white?

The ends of Catherine’s hair were the color of new-fallen snow for a solid three or four inches before fading first into silver and then into the black of the rest of her hair.

Such an unusual omber color transition…

“You look a lot like her.”

The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin with a wordless gasp before whirling about on an immediately apologetic looking Bruce Wayne.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Bruce apologized immediately as he fully entered the room. “I saw the door open and came in to check.” He closed the door behind him and rested a hand on Tim’s shoulder as the boy caught his breath, his own hand pressed against his chest as he tried to steady his racing heartbeat. “Are you alright?”

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding. He turned his gaze back on Catherine. Bruce followed his gaze.

“Curious?”

After a moment, Tim nodded. He pointed to the woman’s hair and glanced at Bruce curiously.

“That… is still a mystery,” Bruce admitted.

Tim blinked twice and his curious expression became more puzzled.

“When Catherine first fell into her coma, we’ve been told her hair was jet black from root to tip, just like yours… and Jason’s. However, a few years back, her hair began to change colors towards the ends. At first it was just an inch… then two… and now it is what you see here.”

Tim studied Catherine’s hair a little more closely before turning back to Bruce. He mouthed the words silently, “Not normal?”

Bruce shook his head. “The doctors haven’t been able to make heads or tails out of it. For now, at least, it’s not hurting her any, and her condition is as stable as it’s always been.”

The boy took a few steps back from Catherine with a sigh.

“Would you like to learn more about your mother?”

Tim looked at Bruce, blue eyes wide with surprise? Bruce smiled gently before leading the boy towards the shelves and tables on the other side of the room. “I never got to meet Catherine properly before her accident… but Jason told me a lot about her.” His expression was melancholic, but the smile remained. “Jason was responsible for everything decorating this room, from the books to the plants to every picture and knickknack.”

Bruce watched as his new foster son moved towards the nearest shelf and studied its content. His curious young eyes scanned the titles of the books…. Chronicles of Narnia… Wizard of Oz collection… Ray Bradbury… Sherlock Holmes… Jane Austen… Bruce watched as a small corner of Tim’s lips wanted to quirk upward just a touch.

Then the boy’s expression faltered as they settled on a set of photographs. One was a photo of Catherine with a five year old Jason Todd. She was hugging him and both were smiling brightly… Full of light and life and happiness together. Then Tim’s gaze drifted, and his breath caught audibly in his throat. He reached over and pulled the second photo frame from the shelf to get a closer look.

It was a photo of Catherine in a hospital bed. She looked exhausted but just as happy as she did in her photo with Jason. Only this time, she had a newborn infant swaddled and cradled in her arms. Tim looked at Bruce in askance. The older man nodded.

“That’s you with your mother,” Bruce said softly.

Tears whelled up in Tim’s eyes, which he quickly tried to brush aside. He still leaned into Bruce’s embrace as his foster father pulled him close for comfort. Then Tim looked up at him and wordlessly asked, “Will she ever wake up?”

Fortunately, due to his work as Batman, Bruce was quite adept at reading lips, especially with the boy so close. “We believe she will.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because… We believed we would find you one day too.”

Chapter 37: Chapter 37 - Footsteps

Chapter Text

“Timothy!”

Harriet McIlvaine’s frustrated voice echoed down the hallway without response, and the silver haired woman frowned deeply as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. She stalked down the hall, taking a moment to knock on each door and peek in if the door was unlocked in search of her wayward teenage pseudo-grandson.

“Timothy!” She tried again down another hallway, sighing as she noted another set of doors.

“How does Alfred find anyone in this place?” she muttered irritably. “The old goat must have tracking chips sewn into their clothing--” She knocked and peeked into a room before closing the door with a sigh. “--or their shoes--” Harriet knocked on another door, jiggled the handle, and gave up when it turned out to be locked. “--or maybe he’s just psychic and talks to whatever ghosts flit about this place?” She opened and closed another set of doors before indulging in a small stamp of her foot. “Good grief! This is just too much house for just four or five people.

Completely done with her fruitless search, Harriet pulled out her cell phone and called Alfred’s phone number.

“Wayne Residence.”

Harriet wrinkled her nose as she frowned. “Oh don’t you give me that proper ‘Wayne Residence’ nonsense,” she scolded. “I know you have Caller ID!”

She heard a soft muffled hum on the other end of the line that she knew was the old butler’s repressed chuckle. Fortunately, he was too proper an Englishman to continue teasing the Scotswoman. Despite only working for the Waynes now for about a month and a half, Alfred had already figured out the exact length of the “fuse” of her temper and how much he could get away with without setting it off.

“So what can I do for you, Harriet dear?”

“Do you have any idea where Timothy is?”

“I thought he was in his room working on school assignments.”

“Obviously he’s not,” Harriet snapped. “I stopped by his room to say goodbye before I go visit my grandkids for the weekend, and he’s nowhere to be found.” She wrapped her free arm around herself as a thread of worry began weaving its way through her thoughts and her voice. “Do you think he might’ve snuck out again?”

There was a moment of silence from the old man. In the background she could hear the sound of another deep male voice speaking with him. It sounded like Alfred was with Bruce when she called him. Though she couldn’t quite make out the words Mr. Wayne was saying, she could tell the man’s tone was a mixture of concern and frustration. Then Alfred’s voice came back on the line.

“Master Bruce is reaching out to Richard. We have a pretty good idea of where Timothy is and will fetch him back home straight away.”

Harriet sighed. “I just don’t understand why he keeps doing this. This is the third time since he’s moved here that he’s done this. Is he trying to run away?”

“We don’t believe so,” Alfred reassured her immediately. “The boy has been through a lot, and with everything that has happened, he is likely quite restless and it’s coming out in… less than ideal ways. Don’t worry my dear. We will find him and bring him home safe. If you wish to go on to see your grandchildren, I will call you as soon as Timothy’s home.”

Harriet shook her head as she made her way to the sitting room just off from the main foyer of Wayne Manor. “No sir. I will not leave the Manor until I’m certain Timothy is safe and sound.”

---

Fortunately, Nightwing was already in Gotham City when the call came over the comms that Tim had… “wandered off” again. He quickly abandoned his stakeout and began swinging his way to the Robinson Park area. Once there, he began retreading an old nostalgic patrol route, until he found what he’d been looking for.

As he touched down a few yards away from his target on the top of the lonely water tower, Dick’s heart clenched at the sight.

“Hey kiddo.”

Tim turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Nightwing. The boy had raided his fallen brother’s closet again. He wore Jason’s favorite old black leather jacket over a soft, well worn crimson hoodie. The hood was pulled up and over the boy’s head against the cool early autumn night air.

Dick felt another pang in his heart. Dressed like that, Tim looked so much like Jason that it hurt.

The emotion must have reflected somewhat on Dick’s masked face, because Tim suddenly looked pained himself before turning away too look out over the city again from where he was sitting. Dick sighed and moved to sit next to Tim.

“Y’know, Tim…” he began gently. “Still not sure exactly how you’re getting out of the Manor without tripping any alarms, but everyone gets worried as hell whenever you vanish without a trace… and even moreso that you keep coming back to this part of the city.” Dick fixed him with a concerned look. “It’s not safe for you to be out here on your own this late at night in Gotham. You know this.”

Tim seemed to shrink in on himself. Jason’s old jacket and hoodie were just a bit too big for the boy, which allowed him to sink deeper within the materials.

Dick looked at his younger brother with concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another familiar silhouette just across the street on another rooftop watching over the both of them, likely listening to him over the still open comm link. He continued his one-sided conversation with Tim with a question.

“Why do you keep doing this? What’s so special about this place?”

Of course there was no verbal response, though Dick felt his heart twist again as the boy bowed his head with a soft sniffle. Then Tim pulled out his cell phone and began typing. Once he was done, he handed the device to Dick and buried his face in his arms.

Dick read the words aloud softly.

“This is where I first met him.”

Dick reached over and gently tugged Tim into a side hug, and the boy easily allowed himself to be shifted into the comforting embrace. As he held Tim close and mulled over the words on the screen, a lightbulb went off in the older man’s head.

“You’re trying to get to know Jason… Learn who he was… By following his footsteps? His patrol route?”

Tim took a moment to wipe his eyes with the cuff of the soft red hoodie peeking out from beneath the leather jacket sleeve before nodding almost imperceptibly.

Dick tucked Tim’s head under his chin for the moment and sighed before glancing at the shadow on the other rooftop. “I understand that you want to learn more about Jason, but this isn’t the way to do it. It’s not safe.” He rose to his feet and offered a hand to his younger brother. “I think we all need to talk about this at home.”

Tim lifted his gaze to Dick curiously. “All?” he mouthed silently. Then, he seemed to have a flash of insight and he glanced around himself until his own blue eyes zeroed in on the same shadow Dick had been communicating silently with. Upon recognizing the pointed ears on the head of the shadow, Tim shrank away from it and turned his gaze away guiltily.

Batman grappled over almost immediately afterwards and placed a hand tenderly on Tim’s shoulder. The voice that came out, though, wasn’t Batman’s but a very tired, world-weary Bruce’s.

“Let’s go home.”

Chapter 38: Chapter 38 - A Brother's Shadow

Chapter Text

The entire family, Mrs. Mac included, stood within the central hub of the Batcave. For a long moment there was nothing but the ambient sounds of the cave, the underground river, and the bats milling about somewhere in the darkness far above them.

It was finally Alfred who broke the silence.

“Are you alright, Harriet dear?”

The old woman closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. When she opened her eyes, she glanced around herself cautiously. “Ok,” she murmured softly. “Still not a dream, then.”

Bruce chuckled weakly. “I’m afraid not Harriet. It’s all quite real, and we’re all awake.”

Harriet took a few steps forward, closer to where the computer workstations were set up to the right and some of the more… unique trophies of Batman’s colorful career were staged on the left. Her eyes couldn’t seem to help but drift towards the giant mechanical dinosaur. She gave a nervous chuckle. “Oy… and here I was thinking, when I first signed on, that the non-disclosure agreement in my contract was a touch excessive.” She glanced back at the men behind her. “I hope you don’t expect me to dust that thing.”

Bruce laughed sheepishly while Dick couldn’t help the small grin. Alfred hmphed lightly. “I should say not. The cleaning of that monstrosity is held back as punishment for the breaking of certain ‘house rules’.” He eyed Bruce and Dick pointedly, who both immediately found other locations in the Cave to turn their eyes towards.

Harriet couldn’t help the small smile of amusem*nt. It was clear from day one who was actually the head of household in Wayne Manor. Then her smile faded into something more stoic. “So why reveal yourselves to Timothy and myself now? Was it because of his disappearing act again tonight?”

“Actually…” Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. “Tim… already knew… He’s actually known for several months now.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Let me explain. But let’s head back upstairs and sit down first. Alfred, could you start some tea for us. This could take awhile.”

----

It took a solid hour, but eventually the entire story of how Timothy really entered the lives of the Wayne household was spelled out for Mrs. Mac.

When all was said and done, she sat there in silence for several minutes, processing everything. The others, especially Tim, were tense as they waited for her to finally speak up. He sat on the sofa next to Dick, still dressed in Jason’s red hoodie while the black leather jacket lay folded in his lap. When the old woman fixed her gaze on Tim, he stiffened slightly.

“New York City? Really?”

Tim swallowed and shrank back against both Dick and the sofa.

“And traipsing around Gotham City at all hours of the night--”

Tim tightened his fingers into the cuffs of his sleeves, head bowed.

“--AND you were in the park that night the Scarecrow was on the loose?!”

The boy flinched hard at that, but before Mrs. Mac could say anything else, Bruce stood up and placed himself between Tim and the old housekeeper as Dick wrapped an arm comfortingly around Tim.

“Please don’t be angry at Tim for this,” Bruce said solemnly. “He was just trying to help. If you need to be angry at anyone, please direct it all on me. It’s my fault he felt the need to reach out to my family in order to pull me out of the darkness I’d fallen into when…” he closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, “...when Jason died.” He opened his eyes and met Mrs. Mac’s gaze. “I am so sorry he was placed in all that danger because of me.”

For a moment, it looked as if Harriet wanted to stay mad. She wanted to be angry and lash out at the man standing before her. Instead, she sighed as she took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But if it wasn’t because of… everything… we never would’ve found out about Tim’s true parentage or what Mrs. Drake had done. Timothy would still be living a lie with…” Harriet paused, thought a moment before continuing. “...a deeply troubled and very dangerous woman.” She sighed deeply before putting her glasses back on and looking at Tim, who was watching her with sad, cautious eyes.

Harriet shook her head. “I’m not mad at you Timothy. Just belatedly worried sick.” She opened her arms to him. “Come here dear.”

Releasing the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Tim moved from one sofa to the other and let himself be wrapped up in Mrs. Mac’s arms. Once she was certain Tim was calmed and comforted and warm and unharmed in her embrace, she turned her full attention back to Bruce, her pale gray eyes sharp as tacks as she pinned him in place with her gaze.

Subconsciously, Bruce straightened his spine a little under the piercing scrutiny of her eyes. Her gaze narrowed suspiciously.

“What are you playing at?”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean--?”

“Mr. Wayne--” Harriet said with a touch of exasperation and a light roll of her eyes before refocusing on him with a more “parental” tone. “--Bruce… In the sixty-five years I’ve lived on God’s green earth, I’ve raised three sons, four daughters, and assisted with the care of no fewer than twelve assorted grandchildren, of which I consider Timothy among those numbers, despite the fact that we are not related by blood.”

Despite still looking slightly worried for Bruce, Tim flushed with a small smile at being considered an unofficial grandchild of the old housekeeper.

Bruce shifted with uncertainty. “Meaning?

“Meaning I’ve had decades of experience with children preparing to offer ‘proposals’ to be for things they want, but that they know I will not approve of.” She tilted her chin up slightly and almost appeared to be looking down at Bruce despite the fact that she was sitting down while he was standing. “And this whole thing…” she made a vague gesture with her hand. “...This reeks of exactly that.”

Bruce blinked a couple of times in rapid succession and took an unconscious half step back on his heels. He glanced briefly at Dick, who subtly lifted both hands up, palms outward, silently signalling him to “don’t look at me” with a very slight shake of his head. A second brief glance at Alfred was nearly as futile, as the old man was watching with what appeared to be genuine interest, but did not appear to be inclined to offer any assistance to Bruce’s roadblock with his new housekeeper. A final glance towards Tim revealed that the boy was clearly very curious about what was going on, as his own bright blue eyes darted between Bruce and Mrs. Mac, but from the expression he wore he couldn’t quite figure out what this was all about.

But he was trying… Bruce could see the wheels in the boy’s mind turning behind those eyes, and the older man felt something shift inside himself.

For the first time that evening… For the first time in weeks if he was being honest with himself… There was a light in Tim’s eyes that had been dimmed since the day he found out the truth about who his family really was.

Bruce nodded to himself.

He didn’t want that light to fade again.

Bruce squared his shoulders and faced Mrs. Mac confidently. “I want to give Tim the same training I gave Jason.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “You want to make him Robin?!”

Surprise flashed across Tim’s face as well. Before he could do anything, though, he found his line of sight to Bruce immediately blocked.

Mrs. Mac’s eyes narrowed sternly as she rose to her feet, putting herself between Tim and Bruce. “No!”

“Harriet--”

“Absolutely not--” Mrs. Mac’s stern words were interrupted by an urgent tugging on her sleeve. She glanced down to see Tim with his hand on her wrist, though the moment she looked down, he retracted his hand immediately. Before she could say anything else, Tim made a motion with his hand, first tapping at his ear, and then pointed at Bruce with the same hand.

Then he silently mouthed the word, “Please?”

Bruce took the unexpected opening. “Please don’t misunderstand, Harriet. I don’t want to make Tim another Robin.”

Harriet looked back at Bruce curiously. “Explain.”

“Tim wants to learn more about his family, especially his brother. However, a full half of Jason’s life with us here was him being Robin.” It looked as if the old woman was about to interrupt again, but Bruce made a gesture asking for her to wait.

“I don’t want Tim to become Robin. I don’t want to risk another child ‘s life on the streets of Gotham. I don’t want--” Bruce bowed his head as he closed his eyes. “--I can’t lose Tim the same way we lost Jason.” Then he raised his gaze to Harriet’s.

“But… I can still train Tim. I can share with him 'some' of the same experience Jason had with us here. Train him in martial arts for self defense… Show him how to run the comms from the Cave… Teach him how to be a detective and solve cases through examining evidence.”

Then Bruce fixed his gaze on Tim, who returned his gaze with wide eyes, full of hope and some deep, unidentifiable emotion. “But no more running off alone in the city. And especially no being out when there are dangerous Rogues on the loose in Gotham. Your safety… your life… means everything to everyone in this room.”

Harriet gave Bruce one more stern look before turning her full attention on Tim. Her expression softened at seeing the look on his face. She reached out to card her fingers through his soft black hair before resting her palm against his cheek. Reflexively, Tim closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting touch. She sighed, a crack of resignation finally appearing in her facade.

“You really want that badly to learn about your brother?”

Tim nodded as he looked at her with pleading soulful eyes.

After a long moment, Harriet nodded. "I will allow this." Then she was knocked slightly back by the force of the hug Tim suddenly gave her. “Goodness!” Looking down, she noted with great fondness that the boy had probably the happiest, most genuine smile on his face that she’d seen in a very long time. She smiled back at him. “Alright then… That’s enough of that. You should go and get ready for bed. It’s been a very long night, and I for one will need some sleep before getting an early start to visit my other grandkids tomorrow.”

Tim nodded as he stepped back out of her arms. He then gave grateful happy looks at Bruce, Dick, and Alfred before finally nodding to them, mouthing the words “Thank you,” and turning to go towards the stairs to the his bedroom.

Once the boy was out of sight, Harriet began to make her way out of the living room as well. But she paused at the doorway. When she turned to look back at the menfolk, Harriet’s smile had faded and her expression was deadly serious. “I understand you want to make Timothy happy, and that you want to keep him safe. You do a great deal of good work both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman.”

Her eyes narrowed and her voice more stern. “However, despite all the good intentions in the world, you still failed his brother, and I cannot set that aside.” Mrs. Mac turned to face them fully, back straight as if she had a core of steel in her spine. “I’m allowing this for the sake of Timothy’s happiness, and in hopes that this will quell any future desires he might have to engage in risky behavior to learn about his older brother. But do not mistake my allowances for approval. If I see any sign that his health and well-being are in imminent danger, I will step in to set things straight. I may have signed the contract to serve the Wayne household, but Timothy’s care is my highest priority. Am I understood, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce absorbed everything she said, and nodded calmly. “Of course. I would have it no other way.”

Content with Bruce’s words, Harriet nodded before turning to return to her own room to retire for the evening.

Once she was gone and out of earshot as well, Dick turned to Bruce. “Are you sure it was wise to bring her into the ‘family secret’? She seems a bit… intense.”

Bruce’s answering smile was melancholic. “I do. In fact, I think a perspective like hers is long overdue. Perhaps, if Jason had advocate like her, completely unflinching in her desire to keep him safe, he’d still…” Bruce trailed off, the unspoken end of his sentence hanging in the air. “Besides… To Tim, me and you and Alfred… we’re all just ‘foster family’. He doesn’t know us well yet. But Harriet has been a constant in his life for years and clearly he values her love and approval. If we were to tell him to stop running away to the city, I’m not sure he would actually follow through for long… but if Harriet does…”

Alfred nodded. “I agree. Hopefully with this plan in place and with Harriet’s oversight, Timothy will start showing improvement, not only with staying closer to home, but perhaps also with finding a cure for his voice loss.”

“One can only hope.”

Chapter 39: Chapter 39 - Changes

Chapter Text

On another Earth, Timothy Drake became the new light to Batman’s darkness. He remained another man’s son while training to become the newest child soldier in Bruce’s never-ending mission to protect Gotham City…

Because Batman needed a Robin.

On this Earth, Timothy Todd-Wayne (nee Drake) became the new heart to Bruce’s grieving family. A miracle to be protected. A child to be cherished. A new son quickly adopted so that the shield of the Wayne name could be wrapped around him for his protection.

Because Jason would’ve wanted his brother to be kept safe.

However…

On another Earth, Bruce Wayne had not wanted another Robin. He did what he could to try and push the persistent boy away…

On this Earth, Bruce Wayne had not wanted another Robin. He did what he could to keep the persistent boy safe and sound…

But the boys were stubborn.

On another Earth, Tim was sent overseas…

On this Earth, Tim was kept close to home…

One Tim was sent to be trained by Bruce’s old mentors…

One Tim was trained by Bruce himself…

One Tim was intercepted and trained in the bo staff by Lady Shiva…

One Tim crossed path with and was trained in the art of stealth by Catwoman herself…

Both boys became skilled at what these women taught them.

Bruce was not happy in either instance, but what could he do?

One Bruce set his Tim on the path to Lady Shiva by sending the boy away for training overseas, so he had no one to blame but himself (as Alfred was quite blunt in remarking)…

The other… well… He was DATING Selina Kyle at the time, so he REALLY had no one to blame but himself (as Harriet was quite salty in expressing)…

Time marched on across both Earths, and Tim changed and grew over the days, weeks, and months.

Meanwhile…

In another location far from Gotham City on this Earth…

“You summoned me, Mistress?”

“Yes. Status report?”

“The subject’s injuries have healed completely, and there is now a white streak in his hair. However, he is still comatose and shows no signs of waking at this time.”

“Metagene activity?”

“It was present in all previously dead tissue, but the moment the tissue is revived and reaches an optimal state of pre-death functionality, the gene goes dormant and is impossible to trace. Our scientists are unsure if the gene only activates once and then burns itself out, or if it merely goes dormant until the subject is exposed to death again. With just the one subject, they are not in a position to test any hypotheses.”

“I see. Please keep me posted if there are any changes in his condition.”

“Of course, my Mistress.”

…Another teenager was changing as well.

Chapter 40: Chapter 40 - Side Effects May Include....

Chapter Text

Bruce sat at his computer workstation in the Cave reviewing the latest clues on a case involving Two Face. The Rogue had been mostly quiet for the past six months, but he was starting to make waves again. Currently his people were nipping at the edges of the Black Mask’s territory, testing the strength of Sionis’s control over the area.

It hadn’t exploded into a full on gang war yet… but it was only a matter of time.

Those case windows were minimized and another set expanded to fill the monitor screen.

There had been a series of theme robberies throughout the Diamond District, but Bruce hadn’t quite figured out which Rogues were responsible for them yet. He’d narrowed potential suspects to either the Royal Flush Gang or the Mad Hatter.

With a small smile, he bookmarked a few items and put a copy of the entire case file into a folder approved for Tim’s access. The folder was filled with past case files that Tim had already worked on for his investigative studies, but this would be the first time he’d get a chance to sink his teeth into an actual active case Batman was working on. He hoped the boy would enjoy the challenge.

Then Bruce felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. His fingers froze where they were, lightly resting on the keyboard and mouse. Without moving his head, he shifted his gaze to the peripherals of his vision to the left and right of his position.

He was being watched.

Immediately, Bruce switched screens to the Manor’s security cam array and started scanning the multiple windows on the computer monitor. Quickly he located Harriet cooking in the kitchen, Alfred in the solarium watering the plants, and Tim in the game room playing a video game while sunk into one of the sinfully comfortable giant bean bag chairs. Dick wasn’t at the Manor that day. He was currently running a Titans training mission for some of the newer teenage members over in San Francisco.

Cautiously, Bruce rose to his feet. He felt his skin still prickling under the sensation of being watched, especially since he was in his civilian clothes and not armored up. It was only three in the afternoon on a Sunday, after all. He began to walk a circuit from the workstation to the training mats to the lab stations to the armory, scanning every potential hiding spot and shadow dark enough to hide a person or animal, keeping his senses open and aware.

But as he returned to the computer workstation, he found nothing and no one else in the Cave beside him and the bats. The sense of being watched was also gone.

Bruce sighed. Perhaps Harriet was onto something regarding ghosts haunting Wayne Manor?

Then he turned his computer chair around so he could sit back down, and only years of training kept him from jerking back in startled surprise.

Tim grinned at him with unrepentant cheekiness as he sat cross-legged in his purloined chair. “Hi B!” he signed with one hand. “Gotcha!”

Despite himself, Bruce smiled with a shake of his head. “Hi Tim, and yes, you did.”

The teenager’s smile brightened, looking very much like the cat that caught the canary.

Bruce glanced between the kid in the chair and the security monitors, squinting at the one which still showed Tim playing his video games. “Did you hack my security feeds? he asked with a warning tone in his voice.

Tim quickly shook his head. He pulled out his cell phone and made a few taps before handing it to Bruce. The older man watched the exact same video feed that was playing on the security feed… but the timestamp when he looked at the video file was from the other day.

“You little--” Bruce said as he came to a quick realization. “If I go into the game room am I going to find a tablet or old cell phone attached to the front of the security camera?”

Tim gave an exaggerated shrug. Then he flipped out of the chair using a move he clearly learned from Dick and once on both feet shifted smoothly into a ready stance for sparring, a playful grin on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Bruce chuckled before stepping back into a ready stance of his own. Tim’s eyes lit up with excitement as his adopted father motioned for him to try and make the first move.

-----

Several days earlier, the mood was somber as Tim, Bruce, and Mrs. Mac reentered Wayne Manor. Both Alfred and Dick were waiting for them.

“How’d the appointment with the specialist go?” Alfred asked.

Mrs. Mac’s expression darkened and soured all at the same time as she glared at Bruce for a moment before turning immediately towards the kitchen. “I’m going to get dinner started,” she declared in no uncertain terms before storming off as politely as she could. Both Alfred and Dick quickly parted to allow her a straight shot out of the foyer.

“That well, huh?” Dick asked as he watched the old housekeeper stalk off, even as Tim quietly shuffled into his open arms for a quick hug. Dick noticed how his little brother leaned heavily against him, and when he glanced downward he could see exhaustion and… resignation?... written all over his young face. He looked up to Bruce. “What happened?”

Their father, who looked as emotionally drained as Tim, silently motioned for everyone to gather in the sitting room adjacent the foyer. Once seated, Bruce finally shared with them the conversation he had with the speech specialist who had seen Tim today:

***

“Mr. Wayne… Mrs. McIlvaine… By any chance had Tim been exposed to Fear Toxin at any time within the last twelve months prior to the appearance of his voice loss?”

Both Bruce and Tim had startled at the question posed by Dr. Carter and shared an uncomfortable look with each other. Thankfully Mrs. Mac answered for both of them in the moment.

"Yes, unfortunately. Timothy's… prior home… was in the residential neighborhood right next to Robinson Park, and he was home alone during that weekend last summer when the Scarecrow had holed himself up there."

Dr. Carter nodded to himself as he jotted down a note on his chart. "Hmm… That does track, then…"

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

The doctor set down his chart and gazed compassionately at Tim and his present family. "It's not common knowledge yet, but there's been a trend in Gotham City specifically of chronic side effects among children and teenagers who have been exposed to Fear Toxin within the past two years."

Bruce felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Immediately, he turned to look at Tim, who had paled considerably, his eyes wide with shock. Mrs. Mac had already gotten his hands in hers and immediately moved to comforting him as best she could. She whispered soft questioning things to him and, thankfully, Tim was responsive back to her. His lips formed around soundless replies of “I’m fine… I’m ok… I’m fine…”

Once he was certain Tim was being cared for, Bruce turned his full attention back on Dr. Carter. “Please explain. What’s this trend and how’s it related to what Tim’s going through?”

Dr. Carter nodded. “Though the Scarecrow has been terrorizing Gotham for about a solid decade now, something changed in his Fear Toxin formula in the last two years that is affecting children under the age of eighteen who are exposed to it.

“One of the key identifiers of this new disorder is that it never starts off with the initial exposure to the toxin. What happens is that first the child is exposed, but then eventually recovers either through the use of an antidote or by the toxin running its course and eventually wearing off on its own. However, even when they appear to be fully recovered, the toxin has changed their brain chemistry in very subtle ways that we haven’t even been able to detect through normal testing until recently.

“Essentially, it’s like the fear toxin sets a trap in the minds of these children. After the children are back to normal, things appear to be fine… until they have another strong emotional fear/anxiety based response to something happening in their lives. When that new jolt of fear or anxiety courses through their mind, it reactivates the remnants of the fear toxin and causes a random major disruption to the child’s brain activity.”

“Random?”

Dr. Carter sighed and went sifting through documents on his laptop until he found what he was looking for. He turned it so everyone could see the screen. “When we first noticed the trend two years ago, the children who were affected by Fear Toxin at this event…” He pointed at a chart that showed dates of Scarecrow events. “ …They went completely color blind.”

Then he pointed at another date. “Children affected by the Halloween incident a year and a half ago have been experiencing a very specific form of synesthesia where when they hear sounds they feel hot or cold sensations on their skin. Depending on the sound, they will feel like they're either freezing or burning or something in between.”

Finally, the doctor skipped a few event points until he got to the most recent Scarecrow event. “And here… With this last event the children who were exposed to the Fear Toxin in Robinson Park…”

Bruce felt a lump in his throat. “...Those children have all lost their voices?”

Dr. Carter nodded.

***

Bruce sighed. “Going forward, Tim is going to be seen by specialists at Gotham Children’s Hospital who are focused on trying to find a cure for Crane’s Fear Toxin effects on children, and I’m going to be fast-tracking their application for a grant from the Thomas Wayne Foundation to help fund their research…”

"I don't understand," Alfred said. "Why hasn't there been any news or warnings about these side effects on children?"

"Because the medical community is worried about what Crane will do if he finds out his toxins are doing this to children. They don't want to tempt him into targeting children specifically."

Dick regarded his father sadly. “But for now there’s nothing else we can do to help Tim get better?”

Bruce shook his head before burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry Tim,” he whispered through his hands. “This is all my fault.”

“No Master Bruce,” Alfred said sadly after sharing a look with Dick. “If anyone is to blame, it is us. We reached out to Tim that night…”

As the men around him spoke up to share the blame, the quiet resigned look on Tim’s face slipped away. He took a breath, pulled himself out of Dick’s arms, and stood up. He waved to try to get their attention, but when that failed, he stomped his foot on the hardwood floor. That sound snapped everyone’s attention on him.

“Stop it!” he signed and mouthed at the same time, his right hand opened toward his chest before flicking outward with a quick snap. Tim’s hands then flexed awkwardly as his face reflected clear frustration as he didn’t know how to sign what he really wanted to say. Finally, he huffed and pulled out his phone to send a text message. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred heard their phones ping at the same time.

“Not your fault! Only Scarecrow’s fault!”

“But Tim…”

Tim shook his head and signed “Stop it!” again. Then he typed some more on his phone.

“I don’t regret helping you that night,” he typed. “Helping you saved you from Scarecrow.” Then Tim’s eyes softened before he continued typing. “Helping you helped me find my real family.” He looked up at each of the men in front of him as tears pricked his eyes. “If the cost of all that was just my voice… then…”

Tim sighed.

“...It was worth it.”

Bruce read Tim’s words, then looked up at his boy with red-rimmed eyes. Tim smiled sadly and mouthed again.

“It was worth it.”

Bruce stood up and pulled Tim into a hug that the boy melted into. “You are so much like your brother in spirit.” Then he pulled Tim back to look him in the face. “I’m not going to stop looking for a cure for you or all those other children… and I promise we’re going to do our best to make sure Crane doesn’t get a chance to hurt any more children like this ever again.”

---

“They seem to both be doing better,” Mrs. Mac said as she met Alfred at the bottom of the stairs connecting the Cave to the Manor. She’d come down to call Bruce and Tim up to dinner and found the old butler watching the pair.

After their impromptu sparring session was over, the two of them had started in on the case Bruce had earmarked for Tim earlier. The boy’s eyes were vibrant as they scanned over all the evidence Batman had already collected, and Bruce’s chest seemed to swell with pride as Tim offered up his theory on why he thought the Rogues responsible were the Royal Flush Gang and what he thought they might try to steal next in the Diamond District.

“They are,” Alfred confirmed, then he glanced at the housekeeper. “Dare I say you appear to be doing better as well?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

Harriet sighed. “A bit. I know Bruce has said he does not want Tim to become Robin, and from what I can see he is going to do his damnedest to keep his word on that front… But…”

“But?”

The old woman wrapped her arms about herself. “I’ve seen the way he lights up whenever he trains with Bruce or Richard. And just look at Timothy’s eyes right now. He’s had so much taken away from him recently, and I can see a longing in those eyes…” Her eyes drifted to the memorial case holding the old Robin uniform. “And clearly he’s inspired by the example set by his brother Jason.” Harriet glanced over at Alfred. “Can you honestly tell me that Timothy is going to be content with just assisting his adopted father and brother here from the Cave?”

Alfred shook his head. “I don’t know. All I am certain of is that Bruce does not want to risk losing Timothy the way Jason was lost. He does not want another child at Batman’s side… But…”

“But?”

The old man sighed. “Bruce didn’t want Richard or Jason at his side either when they first joined the family. He wanted them to be safe, but they wanted to help. In the end, both boys ended up out-stubborning him because the alternative was that they would rebel and do their own thing anyways without any oversight or supervision because they wanted to protect and save Gotham as much as their father did.” He glanced at Harriet with a wry grin. “You’ve raised multiple sons. You know how they get, right?”

Harriet huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’ve raised multiple ‘teenagers’ Alfie. Girl or boy makes no different. There always comes a time where they butt heads with mum or da.”

Alfred looked at the way Bruce hovered over Tim at the computer. “Bruce is hoping that by keeping Timothy involved and engaged intellectually from here, it may quell the desire to actually be active in the field.”

Harriet regarded Tim thoughtfully. “But will it actually quell the desire, or merely make him hunger for more?”

Chapter 41: Chapter 41 - When the Bat's Away...

Chapter Text

“Hello Kitten!”

Tim perked up immediately. He lifted his head from the video game he’d been playing and smiled brightly at the woman walking casually into the den. He paused his game so his hands were free to sign.

“Hi Selina!”

Selina Kyle smiled back warmly as she went up to the sofa and took a moment to affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair. He tried futilely to bat her hand away, but he was silently snickering all the while.

“Are you going out on a date with Bruce?” Tim texted on his phone to her.

“That’s the plan,” Selina replied.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid that Master Bruce won’t be able to join you this evening.”

Both Tim and Selina turned to look at Alfred, who wore an apologetic expression.

Selina frowned. “‘Business’ again?”

“‘Out of town business’ I’m afraid,” Alfred clarified, signaling to both Selina and Tim that Bruce was off on a rare Justice League mission, not just normal Wayne Enterprises business. “He sends his apologies to both of you. Unfortunately he estimates he won’t be home for the remainder of the week.”

The elegant woman’s expression was both annoyed and resigned. She knew what she was getting into when she and Batman got close enough for him to reveal his identity to her. She had been looking forward to getting to know the real man behind the masks of both Batman and “Brucie” Wayne. However, after six months since their “reveal” she barely felt like she’d had much time with him at all. She felt like she knew more about Alfred, Tim, and even Mrs. Mac than her own boyfriend.

Speaking of which…

Selina’s eyes drifted to the mute teenager. There was disappointment in Tim’s face as well as he glanced out the nearest window. Ever since Dick had returned to the active roster as leader of the Titans, he spent a lot of time in San Francisco to manage his team and train the new teenagers who were under their mentorship. He only managed to come back to Gotham every other weekend now.

With both Bruce and Dick out of town, Alfred and Mrs. Mac in hyper vigilant mode around their youngest ward, and Tim still relegated to home schooling due to the continuing drama around his “unique circ*mstances”, the teenager gave Selina the impression of a restless bird trapped in a gilded cage.

“Well… If Bruce isn’t around, I guess that can’t be helped,” Selina sighed. “But… I still have a free afternoon. Maybe Tim would like to go out and stretch his legs around town?”

The boy turned his gaze from the window to Selina curiously, then looked to Alfred hopefully.

The elderly butler looked conflicted. “I don’t know about that. The press is still very interested in all the drama swirling around young Timothy. They know his face and if they catch wind he’s out in the open, the paparazzi will descend like vultures… Not to mention all the unsavory characters who would target Timothy not for the gossip columns, but for the fact that he is now a Wayne heir.”

Selina’s lips pulled into a sly grin. “Oh come on Alfie. You know who I am and I know you were the one who taught Bruce how to craft his various undercover personas. Between the two of us, don’t you think we could weave a disguise that would render our kitten invisible to the bottom-feeders of Gotham and grant him some small moments of freedom?”

Alfred looked between Selina’s scheming gaze and Timothy’s cautiously hopeful one. Then he sighed. “Harriet is going to have my hide when she finds out.”

Selina’s laugh bubbled out playfully. “Well it’s a good thing she’s out visiting her sister this week.” Then she looked at Tim, whose face had lit up with excitement. “Well what do you think, Kitten? Ready to become someone completely different for a day?”

Chapter 42: Chapter 42 - Time Spent With Cats is Never Wasted

Chapter Text

When Bruce returned from his mission with the Justice League (the first one he’d been invited to consult on since the death of Jason and his temporary turn to a darker side), he was honestly surprised to find that Tim and Selina had taken quite well to one another. At first he was quite unhappy with the revelation that his girlfriend had been sneaking his youngest adopted son out into the city without Alfred or Dick to watch over him.

However…

“You can’t keep Tim cooped up in the Manor all day with only Alfred and Mrs. Mac for company. That’s neither fair nor kind to the boy.”

“The press is still out there trying to get their pound of flesh from him because of his history and the upcoming trial. It’s safer for him to stay on the Wayne property or go out only with proper supervision.”

“‘Proper’ supervision? Are you implying that you don’t think I can keep him safe?”

“I am not implying anything of the sort!”

“Keeping him safe is one thing. However, what you’re doing now is smothering him. The boy loves being with you and the rest of your family here, but Tim also needs time around other people, especially those closer to his own age.”

“Last I checked, you’re a few decades past thirteen yourself.”

Bruce immediately froze as Selina’s eyes narrowed at him and she drummed her fingernails ominously on the end table next to the sofa she was sitting on. He backpedaled awkwardly. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean anything negative by that.”

“I know that Bruce,” Selina hissed softly. “It’s just your chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease that occasionally rears its ugly head.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “When Tim and I went out, it was with an Alfred approved disguise and a tracker in his clothing. For the first time in literal months, he was able to go around town without anyone recognizing who he really was. He was just an ordinary teenager hanging out with his ‘cool aunt' for an afternoon.”

Her green eyes softened. “The first afternoon we went to an arcade and the movies. On another day I took him to a skate park. Did you know he can skateboard? Yesterday we had takeout chinese while hanging out with one of my favorite cats before I brought him home. He had a good time, got to be around people, got to be a 'normal' kid for a few hours, and nothing bad happened.”

Bruce still looked unhappy as he stared down Selina, who met and held his gaze unflinching. Then a slight movement caught his eye from the hallway. Bruce sighed.

"Come in here Tim."

The teenager walked in warily, looking every bit the kid expecting a scolding. Bruce motioned for him to take a seat next to Selina on the sofa there in his office. Then he looked at both his son and girlfriend side by side; one looking contrite and the other defiant.

More than anything, Bruce wanted to keep Tim safe. That was the most important thing in the world to him. He swore to Catherine that he would not lose Tim the way he lost Jason. If it were just up to him, he'd keep his newest, youngest child tucked away behind the Manor gates, safe from the paparazzi, criminals, and other dangers that lurked beyond the tall cast iron fences and extremely expensive high tech security grid.

But that just wasn't realistic or healthy…

…His therapist made sure he understood that before they left their last appointment.

With another sigh, Bruce pulled out his phone and sent out a group text message.

Selina looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Sent a message to Alfred, Mrs Mac, and Dick to see if they can join us for a family meeting. If Tim is going to be allowed to go outside the gates of the Manor with you or anyone else, we need to set some ground rules and everyone is going to have their say so we are all on the same page."

His girlfriend blinked at him incredulously. "Wait… Are we actually going to discuss this like rational adults?"

---

"I can't believe he actually had us discuss things like rational adults."

Selina shook her head while her dear old friend and mentor Ted Grant chuckled in amusem*nt. "Had to happen sooner or later, Lina." The older man turned his attention back to Tim, closely inspecting how the teenager had wrapped his hands. "Good job. Here are your gloves."

As Tim smiled and started pulling on the padded MMA gloves, Selina took a short break from the warm up punches and kicks she had been inflicting on the practice dummy in Ted's "Nine Lives Boxing and MMA Gym". Closed to the public on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, these were the days Ted reserved for training "special clients", of which now Timothy Todd-Wayne was one.

Selina knew Bruce only wanted to keep Tim safe. More than Dick or Jason, Tim was his literal miracle child and after losing Jason the way he did, Bruce was stuck in overprotective Batdad mode. She knew Bruce and Dick had started training Tim in self defense, and once upon a time Ted trained both Bruce and herself in the art of hand to hand combat. Ted was like an uncle to Bruce and a father figure to Selina. It was the only reason why Bruce agreed to the Nine Lives Gym being one of Tim's approved places to be outside the Manor.

Well that and the fact that Ted Grant was also the retired vigilante known as Wildcat, one of the original members of the Justice Society of America. Beside the Manor, Ted's gym was probably the next safest place in Gotham City for the boy.

But…

Learning how to defend himself and being restricted to "safe places" wasn't going to be enough… not in Gotham City.

As she watched Ted coach Tim in the boxing ring, observing how nimble and quick thinking he could be on his feet, a thought popped into her mind.

"Hey Kitten? I just realized something."

Tim and Ted had stopped for a break and were sitting on a bench as Selina handed them bottles of water.

"What?" Tim signed.

"Bruce wants to keep you safe. Wants you to stay out of trouble, right?"

Tim cautiously nodded while Ted regarded his psuedo-sometimes-daughter curiously.

Selina smiles. "Well…it occurs to me that the best way to keep you out of trouble would be to teach you how to never get caught."

It didn't take more than a moment for Tim to process what Selina was saying. His eyes widened in surprise. He grabbed his phone from where he'd set it on the bench and typed, "You want to teach me how to be a thief like you?!"

"Oh no," Selina corrected. "Bruce would never forgive me if I was the reason why one of his kids became a career criminal. No, I don’t want you to become a thief, but I do want to teach you how to be as clever and slippery as one."

Ted raised a thoughtful eyebrow at her. "I see. The easiest fight to win is the one that never happens in the first place?"

The elegant woman nodded. "That… and…" Selina looked at Tim sadly. "No matter how much Bruce wants you to have a sheltered life, there may come a day where you will find yourself in danger, and no amount of self defense training will get you out of it.”

She reached out to cradle Tim’s face tenderly, and the boy’s heart ached. Selina wore the same look on her face that Bruce, Dick, and Alfred had whenever they had moments where they looked at him, but were seeing his dead brother. One of the reasons why Tim loved spending time with Selina is because she never looked at him like that… At least, not before that afternoon.

“If the difference between life and death for you is knowing how to pick a lock, slip a pair of handcuffs, move silently in shadows, or how to lose a pursuer, I want to make sure you have those survival skills in your tool kit."

Then she smiled fondly in an attempt to lighten the mood. "So what do you say, Kitten? Would you like me to teach you how to be an even sneakier little sh*t than you already are?"

Tim nodded with a melancholy smile.

---

Meanwhile…

On the other side of the world…

“My Mistress?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“The subject has finally awoken.”

Chapter 43: Chapter 43 - The Demon's Shadow

Chapter Text

---- Fifteen years ago…

“Father! I don’t understand! Why won’t you name me your heir! I’m your last living child! I’ve eliminated all my siblings! Haven’t I proven my worth to you?!”

“You foolish girl. Did you think I would ever hand over control of the League of Shadows to you, only child or not? You are fortunate that I continue to let you live after killing the true male heirs that could have inherited my legacy. Although… you likely did me a favor in that regard. Any heir that was weak enough to be bested and overthrown by you would never have been strong enough to lead the League. In that, and that alone, I thank you daughter. Now remove yourself from my sight. I will not tolerate your presence again unless you deliver to me a new male heir worthy to replace the ones you culled.”

---- Ten years ago…

Behind the mask of “Brucie Wayne”, Bruce silently grumbled. Never in all his days did he think he would have to put effort into rescuing a cadre of LexCorp executives during a hostage situation, especially when those executives were part of an attempt by Lex Luthor to initiate a hostile takeover of Fox Technologies.

Luthor wanted a foothold in Gotham City.

Bruce was not going to let that happen under any circ*mstances. Not only because it was Luthor trying to weasel his way into HIS city, but also because the owner of Fox Tech, Lucius Fox, had always been a close family friend of the Waynes. Their parents were friends back in the day, and it was Thomas and Martha who had lent Lucius’s father the start-up funds to get their company off the ground.

Fortunately/Unfortunately, a new Rogue calling himself The Riddler had decided to make his grand debut. The Rogue had trapped his “lucky” hostages in something he called an “Escape Room”. The hostages were given just two hours to figure out the puzzle that would lead to their freedom. If they failed, the Rogue’s clues implied they would all die.

But there were two problems.

One… The hostages of the moment were all the negotiators for Lexcorp, WE, and Fox Tech.

Two… HE was among the hostages as Bruce Wayne, and he had no way to contact Alfred or Dick.

As the other hostages began to get agitated, if not straight up panicked, Bruce glanced around trying to figure out the best way to take command of the situation without letting too much of his "real self" slip.

However…

A sharp whistle cut through the air. All the frightened mutterings ceased and everyone turned to the source of the sound. A beautiful olive skinned woman with long dark brown hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and deep green eyes in a sharp business suit regarded everyone with a commanding air.

“If everyone is quite done having their little fits…” she started dismissively. “...can the lot of you please be quiet and stay out of the way so those of us with better things to do can dismantle this juvenile parlor game?”

Bruce shook his head and stepped up out from the back of the others. “Aren’t you being a little harsh, Miss…”

“Talia. Talia Head. Chief negotiator from LexCorp.” The woman introduced herself even as she took off her suit jacket and started rolling up the sleeves of the blouse she wore beneath it. “And I’m not being harsh. I’m being pragmatic Mr…”

“Wayne… Bruce Wayne.”

Talia tilted her head and eyed Bruce curiously. Then squared her shoulders and met his gaze confidently. “Nice to meet you Mr. Wayne, but I’m afraid we don’t have time for pleasantries. I may have sounded ‘harsh’ but we are in a trap crafted by a madman and I for one do not wish to remain here a moment longer than absolutely necessary.”

Bruce shook his head as he watched Talia immediately turn her attention away from him and start reviewing the initial puzzle clues left by the Riddler.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked after reassuring the rest of the hostages and taking off his own suit jacket.

"You think you can help?" She arched an elegantly sculpted eyebrow at him.

"I'm pretty good with puzzles."

An hour and forty-five minutes later, most of the Riddler’s puzzles had been solved. A hidden door had been revealed and nearly everyone cheered at the sight. However, the joyous sound died down when they realized the door had a complicated numerical keypad lock. It was at this point that the Riddler took it upon himself to pop in via a video feed to taunt them.

“So close and yet so far!” the Rogue taunted as Talia furrowed her brow as she glared at the keypad. Her neat severe hair bun had come loose, wild strands framing her face. The Riddler’s mocking words visibly irritated her, which the Rogue savored. “So what do you think, Miss Head. You and Mr. Wayne have been so clever so far, but can you figure out the sixteen-digit passcode before time runs out in…” He checked his watch. “...Fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds? All the clues are right there in that room!”

As Talia muttered a colorful curse in Arabic under her breath, Bruce stepped back and eyed the door curiously before glancing back around the room. Then he smirked.

“I’ve got the solution.”

Both Talia and Riddler turned their attention to Bruce. Riddler in particular gaped at him. “What? How?! You haven’t even found the envelope with the riddle you need to solve!”

As Riddler ranted, Bruce walked across the room and paused at a table where a flat head screwdriver had been used to solve an earlier part of the Escape Room.

“Nuh uh… No tampering with the lock! If you think you can use that to break the lockpad, you’ve got another think coming, Mr. Wayne.”

“That’s fine. It’s not for the lockpad.” Bruce glanced at the Riddler. “Do you recall which way the door opens?”

“Um… Inward, I guess? What does that have to do with--?”

Riddler’s words died in his throat as he watched Bruce use the screwdriver to quickly pry the long narrow pin from the top hinge holding the door in place. Because the door opened inwards, all three of the hinges on the door were on the inside of the room. It didn’t take the billionaire long at all to remove the remaining two pins. Once that was done, it was no trouble at all to remove the door from its frame, lock and all still engaged.

As the Riddler screeched with indignation about how they “cheated” to defeat his room, Bruce and Talia stood to one side as the rest of the hostages walked out to where officers in SWAT gear had been on the other side, trying to figure out a way to break in until Bruce opened the door for them.

Talia and Bruce lingered as the last two out of the room.

“That was quite ingenious,” Talia remarked approvingly.

Bruce shrugged. “Riddler wanted us to play his game. That was me refusing to play.”

“Quite.” Talia walked alongside Bruce as they made their way through the officers and out to safety. Once cleared to leave after giving their statements, the pair lingered.

“Well the first day of negotiations is officially shot,” Talia murmured as she glanced at the time.

“Well, if you’re off the clock now, perhaps I can treat you to dinner?”

Talia glanced back at Bruce, who smiled at her sheepishly. “I’d like that, but it would be in bad taste to do so while this negotiation is still in process. Colluding with the enemy and all that jazz. But perhaps once things have wrapped?”

Bruce nodded. “It’s a date.”

Several hours later, from her hotel room, Talia completed a secured wire transfer of funds to an offshore account to one Edward Nygma. As she relaxed while reviewing information on Bruce Wayne on her laptop, she smiled to herself with a swirl of her wine glass.

“So there are brains behind that billionaire’s pretty face.”

Talia had initially set up this Rogue scenario in an effort to make herself appealing to the young CEO of Wayne Enterprises and catch his eye with her brilliance. That he himself had a hidden intelligence behind his normal “Brucie” facade was a lovely surprise.

----- Seven years ago

Her Beloved.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love. Bruce Wayne was supposed to be a means to an end. He was wealthy and powerful and had a stellar pedigree. He was also secretly a vigilante who was at peak physical condition, had trained under a multitude of skilled fighters, and was incredibly intelligent behind those deep blue eyes. A son born of their union would be nothing short of perfection.

But then she discovered he was kind…

He didn’t look down upon her because she was a woman…

He treated her not only as an equal, but someone to be cherished and adored…

He wanted to marry her.

The light glinted off her engagement ring as she studied the positive result of the pregnancy test in her hand.

She finally had what she wanted.

With this child, if they were a boy, she could return triumphant to her father. Her exile from the League of Shadows could be lifted… And once welcomed back into her father’s good graces, she could finally start enacting her plans to usurp Ra’s al Ghul and claim what was rightfully hers.

Her dream of conquest was right in front of her, and she had the love of a good man who wanted her by his side.

But she couldn’t have both.

Bruce had no idea that she was the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul. All he knew was that her mother died when she was a child, she was estranged from her father, and that she had no siblings.

…He had no idea that the lives of her siblings had been ended by her own hands…

…Would he be able to continue loving her if he knew how much red was written in her ledger?

If… If she chose him, could she start over anew? She could walk away from the League and build a new life… a new empire… a new dream… with her Beloved and their child…

But would Ra’s al Ghul let that happen?

…Especially if her child was a son?

No… her father would never let that happen…

Besides… Despite how much she loved Bruce, she was in no way ready to let go of her dream of inheriting the League of Shadows. It was her birthright, no matter what her father said.

There was only one true way forward.

With a heavy heart, Talia removed the engagement ring from her finger and set it on the pillow of the bed she shared with her Beloved. Then she set to work removing all traces of her presence from Wayne Manor.

----- One year ago

Within the dark frigid confines of the GCPD morgue and flanked by two of her personal guards, Talia stood before the drawer that held the body of Jason Todd Wayne, newly murdered by the Joker.

… or so everyone thought.

Her father’s last words before she left the Cradle ran through her mind.

“It’s time you prove your allegiance to the League, daughter, both for your sake and for Damian’s.”

A son for a son…

An heir for an heir…

Ra’s had been so pleased that his new grandson was not only an heir to the Al Ghul empire, but was also the blood son of the Wayne dynasty as well. As the sole child of the Wayne line, once the end of Bruce Wayne could be orchestrated, his grandson would be the sole inheritor of his American bloodline’s entire fortune, business, and legacy.

That is, until word reached Ra’s al Ghul’s ear that Bruce Wayne had adopted a child of his own.

Prior to this, Ra’s had not cared about the prior stray Wayne had taken in. Richard Grayson, the circus performers’ child, had only ever been listed as a foster child under Wayne. Talia had assured her father that Bruce never pushed for adoption because the child was not keen on the idea of “replacing” his biological mother and father, and Bruce respected the boy’s wishes.

But, in the case of Jason Todd, apparently the Crime Alley street urchin had no qualms about being fully adopted by the eccentric billionaire, and with that adoption the child usurped Ra’s grandson’s sole claim to the Wayne empire.

So Ra’s assigned the task of exterminating the cuckoo in Wayne’s nest to his daughter.

It took some careful orchestrating over a period of several weeks, but in the end Talia succeeded in her mission.

She arranged the Joker’s escape from Arkham and pointed them at Barbara Gordon, and she had some of her own people assist the rabid clown in ambushing the teenage Robin. He’d fought well, but he wasn’t skilled enough to fend off four members of the League of Shadows.

Then…

When the Clown was done having his “fun”...

It was Talia herself who set the bomb in the warehouse after the Clown had left to taunt the Bat and the Commissioner…

And then it was Talia again who directed Jim Gordon as a “concerned citizen” to exactly where the Clown had run off to. She knew her Beloved wouldn't have the stomach to kill the Clown due to his "code", but an enraged vengeful police officer would…

Back in the morgue, Talia looked upon the body of her Beloved's dead adopted child.

"I am sorry it came to this," she murmured. "But it was either you or my child. Perhaps the gods will see fit to give you a better life in the next world."

She reached out to rest her hand against Jason's burned face. But the moment she touched his skin, she snapped her hand back in shock!

His skin was warm?!

Talia watched in disbelief as Jason's chest began to slowly rise and fall. She cautiously pressed her fingers to his pulse point on his neck and felt a weak but present flutter of his heartbeat.

But that was impossible!

The boy had been dead for hours!

----- Present day

Nearly a year ago, Talia was fortunate that there was so much corruption to exploit between the morgue and the funeral home responsible for Jason Todd's funeral preparations. She'd had to scramble to either bribe, threaten, or flat out make disappear those people who were to have direct contact with Jason's "remains". Reports were forged. A fake body was crafted to resemble the expected corpse for the funeral. The real Jason of course was stolen and whisked away to a secure location known only to those completely loyal to her.

At first secrecy was paramount because her father could not catch wind of her apparent failure to kill her Beloved's adopted son…

As time passed, though, secrecy was still key because of what Talia discovered about the boy.

He was a metahuman… and his power was the ability to rise from the dead!

No magic…

No weird science…

No Lazarus Pit…

Jason Todd had the innate natural born ability to cheat death.

To say Talia was intrigued was an understatement. She and her people watched as Jason's lethal injuries from both the Joker's assault and the explosion slowly healed over the months as he remained in his comatose state. As his body healed, a lock of his jet black hair right above his forehead turned snow white in color.

Her scientists were baffled. Apparently this boy's metagene was not something that could be detected outright under normal circ*mstances. Normal healthy tissue didn't show any signs of the gene. From what they could theorize, the gene only activated upon death, at which point his latent power would kick in to start reviving and repairing all the damage that caused the end of his life. Then it would turn off again.

They also theorized that this could be how his biological mother, Catherine Todd, survived her horrible car accident years ago. Through their research they'd found that she was currently in a coma herself and had been since that tragic day. But as she was under the care and custody of Bruce Wayne himself in his manor, there was no opportunity to reach Catherine to confirm that she had the same metagene as her son.

Talia's mind spun with the implications.

Cheating death without a Lazarus Pit...

No need to access the rare waters guarded by her father…

No Pit madness to overcome…

Could this metagene power be transferred to another?... Gene splicing?... Cloning?...

Was this a power that could be repeated or reactivated, or was this a one-and-done power? Could a second death be cheated?

So many questions, but so few answers when only one test subject was available for research purposes.

But then news reached Talia's ears.

"My Mistress. You've received a message from your father."

"What does it say?"

"Bruce Wayne has adopted another child… Another son."

The fountain pen in Talia's hand creaked with the added pressure of her hand tightening around the metal barrel.

"Another one? It's barely been over a year." She sighed. Her Beloved was always so tender-hearted when it came to orphaned children. It was becoming a nuisance. "I suppose Father wishes me to dispose of this one as well?"

"Yes Mistress." The messenger from her father offered her a dossier with information on her new target.

With a slight roll of her eyes, Talia opened the folder just as the messenger was leaving. "Wait!" she called out. When the servant turned, they saw that Talia had risen to her feet. "Is this information accurate?"

The messenger nodded cautiously. An agitated Al Ghul was rarely a good sign, much like a cobra with their Hood raised. "Y-yes, Mistress. The child is the long lost brother of your last target. The Waynes found him a few months ago."

Talia nodded grimly and turned her back on the servant. "Leave me," she demanded, and the messenger scurried off as quickly as they could.

Once the door closed, Talia allowed herself a small smile as she more closely read the dossier information on her new target..

"Timothy… Jason's long lost younger brother… I wonder how much you really share with your sibling?"