Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You already have two boys and we both know the house is too big for you anyway, just give him a guest room, you won’t even know he’s there.”

Tim looked between the figures staring each other down. Dad was angry. Well, he called it annoyed, but all his muscles were tense and his voice was louder than usual. Mom would say he was angry if she were standing here. But she wasn’t standing here. Mom was off “dealing with the idiots in CPS.” Whatever CPS was. Probably something creepy he didn’t want to think about. 

Dad and Mom were leaving again. 

He didn’t want to think about that either. But they were. Tim had tried hard to be good this time, but they were only more stressed and angry than he’d ever seen them. Someone was mad that they left him home alone. At least that’s what he’d gathered. That someone might have been named Sharon and she had come to talk to them. He had tried to help. He tried to tell her he was fine and he could take care of himself. He was seven years old, after all. It didn’t matter if they left him home alone, they did it all the time, he was used to it and he could take care of himself. 

Mom and Dad’s faces got even redder and angrier when he said that. 

They’d sent him to his room when Sharon left. 

And he could hear them yelling til he fell asleep. Sometimes he could hear something shatter.

They didn’t want his help. 

And now… Now Dad was mad at Batman. 

Well, Dad didn’t know he was Batman, he just thought he was Bruce Wayne, but it didn’t matter. Because of what Tim did, Dad was mad. It was all his fault. 

He looked between the men standing before him again. Batman looked confused. And Dad looked angry. 

And Tim was scared. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce watched as Jack Drake got in his car and drove away, leaving his seven-year-old son behind. He hadn’t wanted to take Timothy with him, wherever he was going. 

Bruce didn’t understand, Jack and Janet Drake went on month long excursions all the time, taking Timothy with them had never been a problem before. But Jack had made it seem like an emergency and no one else could take care of the boy while they were gone, so Bruce had eventually agreed.

Timothy was only seven after all. Bruce had seen Timothy at galas and charities before, he was a good boy, well behaved. They could keep their nightlife secret from a well behaved seven year old. At least for a few months. Just this once. 

Bruce knelt down to Timothy’s level and smiled. “Well Timothy, how would you like to come inside for some hot chocolate?” 

The boy stared up into Bruce’s face, his mouth slightly agape. 

“We can load it with as many marshmallows as you’d like and you can meet Dick and Jason.”

Timothy sucked in a breath, his eyes filling with even more awe and Bruce couldn’t help but wonder why. It wasn’t that this reaction was uncommon, but few seven-year-olds were impressed by Bruce’s status as Crown Prince of Gotham. And of the few who were, Bruce had never met one who came from a family of nearly equal status and wealth. There was nothing the heir to the Drake estate and Bruce’s next door neighbor should be in awe of Bruce and his sons over. 

Timothy nodded before answering in his most polite, upper Gotham accent, “I would be honored, Mr. B--” he gasped again for some reason and quickly back tracked before correcting himself. “Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce gave the boy his most encouraging smile. “You can just call me Bruce, Timothy.” 

He seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, the panic at his mistake draining out of his shoulders. 

“Just Tim, Mr.--Bruce.”

“Alright then, Tim.” Bruce grinned wider and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he stood to lead him inside, but Tim flinched under the weight and pulled away--just far enough to allow Bruce’s hand to fall off his shoulder--before walking up the steps to the front doors. 

That was… Odd. And Bruce’s smile faltered. Maybe Tim was just antisocial and didn’t like physical contact. Maybe he was hesitant to trust Gotham’s elite, which, given his background, would make perfect sense. It was perfectly likely that strangers would pinch his cheek or pat his head and he'd have to let them do so in order to “behave”. It was also likely the Drakes were involved in shady business and Tim had seen too much of it up close. Whatever the case, Tim’s trust would be something Bruce would have to earn before the boy would accept any physical contact. 

Bruce gathered himself and followed the younger heir up the steps to open the door for him, careful to avoid contact. Tim carried himself well as he walked inside, shoulders thrown back and head held high. Rigid and proper, Tim owned who he was and who he was destined to become. It was a little unsettling, honestly. A kid that young shouldn’t be this tense. He shouldn’t have to own his title or impress snobs all the time. 

Bruce hoped it was just for show in a new place around other members of “Gotham’s elite” and the boy would warm up and settle down soon.

Chapter Text

“Dick, Jason.”

Both boys froze where they were on the sparring mats, for which Jason was grateful as he’d just lost his balance and had about two seconds before Dick finished him off and claimed his victory. But Bruce was calling them over the intercom. The one connected to the house. The one that was just for show and never got used. If Bruce wanted them, he’d just come down to the cave to talk to them himself as it was likely work related anyway. Unless there was someone present. 

Which meant they had company. 

For some reason. 

On a school night when neither of them (based on the exchanged confused looks) were expecting anyone. 

“Come to the kitchen please, we have a guest.”

Jason looked at Dick again, confirming he hadn’t been expecting this. Which was fairly obvious as they were both downstairs in workout clothes and dripping in sweat. Hardly company appropriate attire. 

Dick shrugged and performed a series of totally unnecessary flips around the mat to gather all four escrima sticks that had been scattered throughout their fight. He hung them on the weapons rack before continuing on toward the showers, totally ignoring Jason’s eye roll as he continued like his behavior was totally normal. Which it was, but that didn’t make it not ridiculous.

“No idea, Little Wing.” He answered the unasked question. “One way to find out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick bounded into the kitchen on his toes, once again disappointed at the lack of a chandelier in this room, but Alfred would probably kill him anyway so it was likely for the better. Jason followed close behind him, slightly more cautious of the situation, but there was nothing that dramatic going on, just a small kid sitting at the counter with a cup of hot cocoa in his hand and enough marshmallows to make Dick proud. 

“Hey Bruce!” He grinned before snagging a handful of the fluffy white balls of sugar and stuffing them in his mouth. “Whoz tiss?”

Alfred cleared his throat in disapproval at which Dick instantly sank with a sheepish grin. He swallowed the marshmallows in his mouth before speaking again. 

“Sorry Alf! I meant to say, who’s this?”

The kid was small, maybe five or six, with black hair and wide blue eyes filled with wonder. Bruce cast a quick glance between his two sons before answering the question. He was almost hesitant. Like something was wrong. Like this wasn’t just some dinner guest. But that meant…

Oh. 

Oh. 

Bruce accidentally adopted another kid, didn’t he?! Like that time he came home with an orphaned circus freak who couldn’t keep off the chandeliers. Or that other time he came home with an orphaned street rat who had jacked his tires. Whoever this kid was, he was probably orphaned and had some weird quirk about him. 

Whatever the case, Bruce had a problem. That much was sure. But who was Dick to complain about another little brother? The kid was cute anyway and clearly shared his love for sugar, this would be just fine. 

“Dick, Jason,” Bruce gave his two eldest sons a bit of a warning look before they did anything stupid. Like they ever would. “I’d like you to meet Tim. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Hi, Tim! Welcome to the family!” 

Dick, ever the energetic sibling hugger, had his arms around the kid’s waist in seconds. Tim squirmed under Dick’s hold, his eyes growing wider with every moment before Bruce shooed Dick away from him. The older boy took the cue and quickly pulled away even as Tim leaned so far from him his tiny form was nearly falling off the barstool. 

Dick’s eyes widened to match Tim’s as he realized the wonder in the kid’s eyes had turned to horror for some reason. Sensory issues, maybe. Or lack of trust. Whatever it was, hugging upon introduction to the newest member of the family might not have been the best idea.

“Wow, Dickface, way to live up to the name.” Jason rolled his eyes and stepped slightly farther into the room. “Besides, Bruce didn’t adopt him, all he said is he’s staying with us. Tim’s the kid next door.”

Dick froze as Jason’s words sank in and he looked between all four faces around the room. Right. Tim. Timothy Drake. Now that he thought about it, the kid did look familiar. How he hadn’t noticed and Jason had… 

Well actually that was easy. Jason could smell a rich kid from a mile away. No wonder he’d put the pieces together so fast. 

Bruce nodded in agreement with Jason’s statement before clarifying. 

“Jack and Janet Drake had an emergency, we’ll be looking after Tim while they’re away.”

“Ah.” Dick quieted a sigh before extending a hand to shake--a hand hug, if you will. Smaller version of a hug with less physical contact and usually leaves one empty inside, but it’s a start. “Sorry about that, Tim. Welcome to the Manor for a while.”

Tim took the outstretched hand hesitantly, but seemed more comfortable with the gesture as he firmly shook Dick’s hand like he’d done it a thousand times before. Even so, he pulled his hand back to the safety of his own lap after just a moment. Maybe the kid was just a germaphobe. Wouldn’t be unusual for a rich kid with maids and cooks and butlers and whoever else to make sure he never came in contact with germs. 

Oh well, the kid was here for a while and Dick was determined to make the best of it no matter who he was or what his quirks were. Temporary baby brother was still a baby brother. And they were neighbors, after all. Just because he’d go home in a few weeks didn’t mean Dick couldn’t adopt him. 

Chapter Text

Bruce stared in disbelief at the boy sitting across the table from him. Exactly how much of an emergency had the Drakes been in to not even pack the boy a backpack with the bare essentials? Tim had nothing. No toothbrush, no PJs, no clean underwear or change of clothes, nothing. He had just been dropped off totally empty handed and somehow, in the heat of the moment, Bruce hadn’t even noticed the lack of luggage. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Wa--Bruce.” Tim shifted awkwardly in his chair, food untouched in front of him.  He tried to hold Bruce’s gaze as he talked to the man but both Dick and Jason were also staring at the boy in as much shock as Bruce himself. And Tim was clearly struggling with the attention. “I don’t really need anything, I can make do without it…”

Bruce shook his head, mostly to clear out all the questions and half cooked parenting advice he wanted to yell at Jack Drake. “Nonsense, Tim, there’s no reason you should have to make do at all. We can let you borrow…” Bruce paused as he trailed off and glanced between Tim and Jason. No, even with Jason’s stunted growth, he was still several sizes bigger than Tim, the boy would swim in Jason’s pajamas. “Well your house is just next door, how about we drive over there after dinner and you can pick up your stuff?” 

Tim considered for a moment, looking hesitant. “I could just go myself, sir--”

“Bruce.”

“--Bruce.” Tim shifted his glance down at his plate. “You don’t need to come along, I can just walk.”

Bruce stopped, peas falling off his fork. What. They might be neighbors but they didn’t live that close. It’d be only a few minutes by car but on foot? It would take the boy the better part of two hours, and hiking back with luggage no less. Maybe Tim just… Hadn’t thought that through. He couldn’t possibly think that would be no problem. He had probably never walked the distance between the Drake’s house and the Wayne’s. Or he did it all the time and thought it was nothing, but that was unlikely for more reasons than one (if nothing else their security system would have picked him up).

Bruce was still struggling to gather his thoughts when Jason helpfully spoke up. “Um. No.”

Tim froze and snapped his head up to stare at Jason’s total deadpan expression. He nearly shrank under the disapproval the older boy gave him, but somehow managed to find words despite his wide eyes and clear panic. “It isn’t any trouble… Really…” 

He stammered out a few more things, something along the lines of being fine on his own and being in great shape before Bruce gently cut him off. 

“It’s alright, Tim. It’s less trouble for us to start the car than it is for you to walk.” 

He went quiet at that, apparently unable to come up with an argument against it, though Bruce could have sworn he was about to say something about the environment and how walking would be less trouble for the Earth before Bruce continued, a soft finality to his voice. “Finish up now, chum, we’ll stop by your house as soon as dinner’s cleaned up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim sat ramrod straight in the back of the car as Mr. Pennyworth drove the mile down the road toward his house. He risked a glance up at Bruce Wayne , who caught his eye and smiled encouragingly, but from where Tim was sitting, he couldn’t feel much encouragement. 

Panic, yes. Lots of panic. And dread, and fear, a touch of hysteria, any other synonym one can think of for panic. How was he supposed to tell Batman he didn’t want him to come to his house because he didn’t have a key to the front door and he usually got in and out by temporarily disabling security and climbing through a window?! He’d tried telling him he didn’t want to come but how do you say no to The Dark Knight?  

And if Batman found out he got in and out of his house through the window, maybe he’d figure out why he was sneaking in and out so much.

 Besides that, he really didn’t want to inconvenience him. Dad had told him he wouldn’t even be able to tell Tim was there and so far Tim had totally failed at that. He should have remembered to bring a bag of his belongings, Dad couldn’t have been expected to remember Tim’s stuff. It was Tim’s job and he’d failed already. And now Batman was having to go out of his way to fix Tim’s mistake. 

This really wasn’t good. 

He took a deep breath as they pulled up the drive, trying not to let Batman see and notice how nervous he was. He’d have to come up with some way to hide what he was about to do. Hide if from the World’s Greatest Detective .

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is it, Tim.” 

Bruce smiled and reached for the door handle as the car rolled to a stop, but Tim cut him off. 

“No! That’s ok, Mr--Bruce. I can get it. You can stay here.”

Bruce paused, leaving his hand suspended in the air. He could tell the boy had been nervous the entire short ride and it was quite obvious he didn’t want Bruce following him. Though Bruce still had no idea why. But it was Tim’s house, perhaps there was just something about it being his home and his things that Tim didn’t want to share. Personal space issues. Which were totally reasonable and understandable.

Tim was already halfway out the car door by the time Bruce gathered his thoughts and spoke up. 

“You know what you need, right?”

Tim nodded sincerely, locking eyes with Bruce for the first time since dinner.

“Toothbrush? Pajamas? Clean clothes? Underwear? Shampoo? Any personal items you’d like to sleep with?” 

Tim continued nodding at each item, holding Bruce’s gaze intently as he did so. 

Bruce sighed and sat back in his seat. “Alright then, Tim. Take as much time as you need.”

He watched as the boy slipped all the way out of the car as silent as a ghost and made his way up to the house. 

And then around it.

Bruce frowned. That was… Odd. But easily explainable. The front doors were massive, made for showing off to large parties and snobby guests. Tim was a small boy and he was currently alone. Perhaps he just preferred a servant’s entrance or back door. That was likely all there was to it. 

When the kid came trotting back fifteen minutes later with a much too big backpack slung over his shoulders, Bruce didn’t say anything. And Tim seemed relieved. 

Chapter Text

“Ge’ off, Dickhead!!” 

The over-hyper morning bird just grinned and squeezed tighter as Jason squirmed. Hugs were a necessary part of life after all and Dick knew Jason would just die without them. Even if he was scowling and muttering threats when Dick finally let him go and pulled up his own barstool beside his baby brother. No wait, he wasn’t his baby brother anymore, just his little brother. His baby brother was… Wait. 

Dick frowned and looked around the kitchen. Alfred was at the stove fixing a pan of scrambled eggs, Jason sat beside him with a cup of morning tea, Bruce was probably still asleep, and Tim was nowhere to be found. Which was understandable, he was a small little kid, he probably shouldn’t be up early anyway, but they were vigilantes who stayed up all night. Their idea of “early” was a bit off. It was already nearly 11:00AM. 

“Hey Alfie, where’s Tim?”

Alfred piled half the eggs onto a plate with some sausages and set it in front of Dick before answering. “Master Timothy is presumably still asleep, Master Dick.”

Hm. Well he supposed 11:00 wasn’t too late to still be asleep. Maybe Tim had just taken a while to drift off after they’d shown him his room. Maybe he was just tired. He had had a big day. Dick sighed and poked at his ( non sugary, thanks a lot, Alfred ) eggs. 

“You’ll clean that plate before you have any cereal, Master Dick.” 

Alfred spoke without so much as looking around and Dick nearly gasped. World’s Greatest Detective, my ass. Anyone who knew anything knew Bruce had nothing on Alfred. 

“ Language , Master Richard.”

Dick gapped at the older gentleman’s back before muttering an apology and shoving a bite of eggs in his mouth. Seriously, why did he even try anymore? Nothing got past Alfred. Nothing.

As if on cue, Bruce wandered in with a sleepy “Good morning…” which somehow actually gave Alfred pause. 

Dick stopped and stared, glancing between the two of them as Alfred actually looked… Confused. 

“Master Bruce…” The older gentleman practically stammered as he took in the Dark Knight’s Saturday morning pajamas and tired expression. “I thought you had already risen, sir.”

Dick glanced down at Jason who caught his eye, looking just as confused at the men in front of them as Dick himself. 

Bruce also frowned in concern. “No, why would you think that?”

Silence reigned for approximately seven seconds as Alfred looked between each of his kids one by one before glancing at the coffee pot. 

Dick followed his gaze, his eyes widening as he realized. There was a small amount of lightly steaming brown liquid on the bottom of the pot. Jason and Alfred only ever had tea, and Dick and Bruce had just gotten up. That meant…

“Master Jason,” Alfred spoke up, having followed the same thought process as every other detective in the room. “Perhaps you would like to see if our guest is hungry for some proper breakfast.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason walked down the hall, passing both Bruce, Dick, and his own rooms before stopping at the door just beyond his and knocking. He waited several moments with no answer before he knocked again, but there was still nothing. 

Maybe they’d been wrong, maybe it hadn’t been Tim who’d used the coffee machine and the kid was still asleep. What was a seven-year-old doing drinking coffee anyway? 

He opened the door slowly and quietly just in case Tim was still asleep before peeking his head in. He glanced at the bed but frowned at the immaculately made spread without a single wrinkle, as if the kid hadn’t so much as sat on the mattress no less slept there. And he definitely wasn’t in it now. 

Maybe Jason had gone to the wrong room…?

But that couldn’t be right, he distinctly remembered they had given Tim the room right next to his, past Bruce’s and Dick’s so the kid would be close enough to not feel so alone but still far enough away they didn’t have to pass his room to sneak out on vigilante business. 

He was just about to walk out and shut the door when he heard a faint tapping sound and turned to see the kid sitting at the desk in the room. Said desk was on the same wall as the door so Jason had to push his head in a little farther to get a decent look at the kid, but he was there, totally oblivious to Jason, sitting criss-cross on the chair, typing away at something that was apparently important enough to be engrossed in. 

Jason blinked several times, somehow convincing himself the scene would change if he just stood there long enough, but it never did and that tapping continued as Tim kept working. Jason cleared his throat in an attempt to announce himself, but Tim remained oblivious, so Jason pushed through the door and walked a little farther into the room. He got about halfway to the kid before said child switched from typing with both hands to typing with one, using his right hand to reach out and grasp an old cracked mug sporting the Bolivian flag. Which he promptly brought to his lips, only ever pausing his typing and looking away from his work when the mug came up empty and he turned to give it the darkest look Jason had ever seen on a child that small. 

At this point, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

Tim let out a long, tired sigh before he slipped off his chair, holding the old mug close as he shuffled toward the door and ran straight into Jason, who was too shocked to move.

The kid stumbled back and stared up at the older boy with wide eyes which Jason only just now saw were sporting huge dark bags. 

Jason couldn’t believe the realization he was struck with. He… Hadn’t slept. He really, truly, had never gone to bed last night. The snobby rich goody-too-shoes baby whom all the adults fawned over at every gala Bruce dragged Jason too had just… Not gone to bed last night. And was wandering like a zombie today. And staring at Jason like a deer in the headlights. 

Jason blinked several times before repeating the question Alfred had sent him for and the only thing he could think to ask right now. 

“You ah… You want breakfast?”

The kid didn’t take his eyes away from Jason for several more seconds before apparently remembering what he’d gotten out of his chair to do and sidestepping Jason to head for the door. With his mug. And a longing look in his very sleep deprived eyes. 

Oh no. 

Not a chance. 

Jason sidestepped the kid right back, forcing himself between the tiny boy and the door before picking his mug out of his hands with all the skill of a trained Robin. 

Tim apparently didn’t notice either change in his surroundings for a couple seconds as he once again ran straight into the older boy before somehow registering his mug was no longer in his hands. He spent several seconds looking for it before spotting it in Jason’s hand as his mouth dropped open and something dangerous flickered in the corner of his eyes. 

Jason barely had time to reassure himself he was taller than the kid and could hold the mug out of reach before a tiny foot slammed into the side of his knee and forced him to kneel. 

Jason blinked in shock as the kid headed for the now-in-reach-mug, but Jason forced himself back to the present before Tim could get to it and stood back up, this time prepared when the otherwise harmless looking kid tried to kick his legs out. He stood his ground, planting himself firmly so Tim couldn’t muster enough power to bring him down, before setting the mug on the highest shelf Jason could reach. 

The kid looked aghast when he did and started heading for a chair, but that wasn’t the end goal. It did, however, provide Jason with the element of surprise now that Tim’s back was turned. 

Sneaking up on the zombie was absolutely no problem and Jason scooped Tim up like the baby he was--much to the kid’s sleep deprived grunts of disapproval--before flopping onto the bed. He then wrapped all four of his limbs around the squirming baby nightcrawler--just like Dick had done for him--and situated him where he knew it was most comfortable. That didn’t shut the kid up or stop him from fighting, but Jason had time. It was a Saturday morning and he had nowhere to be. Tim might have been better with his fists and feet than Jason had originally thought, but he was still tiny, possessed nearly zero muscle, and Jason had time. The kid would sleep eventually.

Chapter Text

“He was crying about his coffee, Bruce! What seven year old even drinks coffee?!”

Bruce sighed, hiding the fondness in his smile as he took off his cowl. Jason had been ranting on and off for hours now. All day and all through patrol. Every time Bruce thought he was done, he’d pipe up with some other random exclamation an hour after the last rant had ended. Apparently the Drake boy hadn’t slept last night and Jason had been forced to use… Unusual methods to get him to sleep. Honestly, Bruce had only picked up bits and pieces from his son’s ranting, but it was enough to figure out what had probably happened. And enough to ask Alfred to put a lock on the coffee machine…

“Ya know what, old man?” Jason threw his towel over a chair in exasperation as he pulled on his PJ shirt, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Bruce’s answer.

Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.

“Know what, Jaylad?”

“He’s probably up there working right now!” 

Bruce pursed his lips as he followed his son’s indignant line of thinking. It was possible the boy wasn’t asleep as he should be, especially seeing as he had spent a good portion of the day sleeping, but he was only seven years old and it was 3:00 in the morning on a Saturday night. He should be sleeping by now. He had said he was going to bed not long after dinner. 

“And don’t try to defend him, old man!” Jason must have been able to tell where the Dark Knight's silence had taken his mind. “You didn’t see the bags under his eyes!”

No, Bruce had not seen the bags under the boy’s eyes. But after the number of times Jason had described them, he may as well have.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Bruce prodded with as much gentleness as he could summon. Not that Jason would be paying enough attention to notice anything was wrong had Bruce been too harsh. 

“What am I gonna do?!” Jason repeated, looking between Bruce and the stairs leading to the grandfather clock. “Well for starts, I’m gonna go check on the kid.” 

He nodded once for emphasis before stalking toward the stairs, still muttering under his breath. This time, Bruce didn’t try hiding his fondness. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“What am I gonna do?! Well for starts, I’m gonna go check on the kid. ”

Tim paled as he watched Jason-- Robin --spin on his heel and stalk toward the stairs. The stairs to the manor. Where Tim was supposed to be asleep right now. Not hiding in the back of the batmobile clutching a camera to his chest in absolute terror . 

This wasn’t good. Even if he had gotten some of the best pictures of his admittedly short career, and his first once of a car chase from inside the car , as awesome as that was, it would not be awesome at all if he got caught. What would Batman do to the kid who hacked his security and snuck into the Batcave? No less knew who they were and rode along with them on patrol.

Nothing good, that was for sure. 

He needed to get back upstairs and he needed to do it now.  

But Batman was at the Batcomputer. Between him and the stairs. Unless…

Tim crept out of the car as quietly as he could as slipped down under a section of the platform before pulling out his laptop from his backpack. A few quick silent taps and within thirty seconds a news report flashed up on the screen Batman was staring at. 

Two Face Escapes Arkham, Hostages Downtown

Tim held his breath, praying the World’s Greatest Detective didn’t read the article much farther than the headline, Tim didn’t have time to write an entire fake article, just the title and the first fake paragraph. If he’d just take the bait… 

There.

The engine of the vehicle above him roared to life and Tim used the noise to snap his laptop shut, waiting just a little longer before the vigilante himself jumped in the car and sped out of the cave.

Now was his chance, before Batman realized the article was a fake and Two Face was still in Arkham. 

Tim bolted out of his hiding spot and ran as fast as he could toward the stairs, stretching as much as he could to take them two at a time. Jason was probably in his room right now. Or asking Mr. Pennyworth where he was. It couldn’t be long before Jason came back down to the cave to complain to Bruce that he couldn’t find Tim. Tim could not be caught on the stairs of the Batcave when that happened. 

He hurried out of the grandfather clock into Bruce’s study, pausing just a minute to try to stop himself from gasping for every breath he took before taking off toward his room. He slowed when he heard voices in the hall, sparing a few more seconds to shove his camera into his backpack and bite back any coughs that threatened to give away his recent exertion. It was too late now to pretend he’d been in bed. He’d have to face the consequences. 

He wandered up to the pair, summoning all the calm and casual he could to his features, hoping it was enough. 

“He could be anywhere, Alfred! Anywhere! That kid has no self preservation skills!”

Rude . He could take care of himself just fine.

“Indeed, Master Jason. Have you checked behind you?”

The older boy’s shoulders tensed in confusion for just a second before he spun around, locking eyes with Tim, mouth open wide.

Tim smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Goodnight!” With that, he shuffled past the two, pretending not to hear Jason’s spluttering disbelief, and disappeared into his room before he could be stopped. Only when the door shut did he finally allow himself to breathe easier, take a few gasping breaths, and pull out his camera. He had some amazing pictures to go through.

Chapter Text

“Morning, Little Wing!” Dick bounced into the kitchen and barreled into his little brother with a sticky hug. He was met with a grunt from beneath him as the pre-teen tried to shove him off, to absolutely not avail. Dick laughed and ruffled his little brother’s hair. “You seen B yet this morning?”

Jason shot him a glare as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to do some damage control before answering. “Not since last night. Maybe he had a WE meeting.”

That was entirely possible, Dick had to admit. It was 7:00 on a Monday morning and Dick couldn’t remember Bruce complaining about a meeting in a while so it was likely he was due for another one. 

He grabbed a box of cereal down from the cabinet before turning toward the coffee maker and freezing. There was… A wire cage around the machine with a combination padlock. Combination being the only thing Alfred would use as keys were way too easy to pick. 

Dick blinked several times as he looked over the rigging. This had to be Alfred’s doing, right? Who else would put a lock on the coffee machine? But why? They hadn’t been that excessive with the caffeine recently, and last he checked Bruce hadn’t done anything to get on the elder man’s bad side. And he couldn’t remember doing anything to anger the butler himself and Jason didn’t drink coffee so locking the machine wouldn’t have been punishment for anything he did.

“Oh, Alfred put that there to stop Tim.” Jason must have noticed Dick’s puzzled look as he answered the unspoken question.

Right. Tim. ‘Cause the little night owl apparently had a coffee addiction. Well at least Alfred wasn’t mad at anyone. 

Though that meant he couldn’t have coffee this morning… He didn’t even like coffee most mornings but he had been in the mood and now it was a challenge. 

The bars were too close together to slide a cup through and the lock was four digits--that would take hours to guess the combination and Dick didn’t want to spend the time--he could always cut the bars but then Alfred would have a reason to be mad and no one wanted that.

He pursed his lips in contemplation before noticing Jason’s smirk and frowning deeper.

“What?”

Jason sipped at his tea in favor of answering, going back to his book as if Dick hadn’t just asked him a question. 

Infuriating little…

“Jaybird!” Dick whined, causing the younger to look up innocently. 

“Oh me? You need my help?” Jason raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and smirked deeper. He knew something. He obviously knew something and was enjoying this. 

Dick sighed. “Please, Little Wing? I’ll sneak you out for midnight chili dogs?” Dick flashed him his most charming older brother grin, but Jason just hummed. 

“You’re paying?”

Dick nodded vigorously.

“You forgot about the one downstairs.” Jason smirked, took another sip of tea, and went back to his book. 

The one down… 

Oh. The coffee maker downstairs . 

Tim couldn’t get to the one in the cave, so it wasn’t locked up. And Dick had totally forgotten about that. So focused on how to get at the one in front of him that he forgot about the second one. Some detective he was, no wonder Jason was smug. Maybe Dick really did need coffee this morning. 

He laughed at himself and shouted a quick “Thanks, I owe you!” to his little brother before running off toward the study. He’d just grab a cup of coffee before coming back for his cereal. 

He slipped through the grandfather clock before jumping onto the banister and using his socks to surf all the way down to the main level of the cave. The coffee machine was right by the batcomputer, he just had to find the filter and grounds and--it was already half full. And steaming. Well Bruce probably did have a meeting today and he’d just missed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Morning, Jaylad.” 

Jason glanced up just in time to see Bruce enter the kitchen with a yawn. Huh. Maybe he didn’t have a meeting today. Or he just hadn’t left yet. 

“Ready for school?” The older man asked as he ruffled Jason’s hair. Seriously, why did everyone keep doing that?! He’d have to fix his hair three times all before leaving for school. 

“Yeah, finished all my homework last night.”

Bruce smiled and nodded proudly, noting the book in Jason’s hand that apparently wasn’t homework. Not that anyone should be surprised by that, it was a book, wasn’t it?

“Don’t forget, Tim’s coming with you today.”

Right. Jason had forgotten about that. The Drake heir had skipped several grades already to be in fourth grade. Still three grades behind Jason but at the same school, so Jason would be taking care of the kid as Alfred dropped them off and picked them up. Shouldn’t be too hard, how much trouble could one little kid get into? Speaking of the kid, he still hadn’t made an appearance today. 

“He ready for school yet?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “I knocked on his door before coming down here. He said he was getting ready.” 

Jason knew that look. He’d seen that look on the older man’s face every time Dick was mad at him and Bruce hadn’t noticed yet. Something was off but he wasn’t sure what and didn’t want to invade. 

“He still has half an hour before you two need to leave,” the Dark Knight shrugged. “Maybe he’s just tired.”

Yeah, maybe, Jason frowned. Then again, maybe not . 

He sighed and put his book down. There was only one way to find out and he, for one, was not unwilling to invade the kid’s space if it meant getting him breakfast before they had to leave. He slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Tim’s room, knocking lightly before entering. 

Just as Jason suspected, Tim was sitting there at his desk working on something , engrossed in whatever it was. He wasn’t in his pajamas though and Jason couldn’t decide if that was a good sign that he was already up or a bad one that he had never gone to bed in the first place. He at least didn’t look like he hadn’t slept all night so maybe it was a good thing. 

“Almost ready!” The kid called to the door without looking up, as if he was actively getting ready instead of messing around on something that looked like… Business spreadsheets? Yeah, that definitely wasn’t homework and shouldn’t be being done at this hour of the morning. If any kid his age should ever be doing something like that.

Jason was about to open his mouth to call out the kid on his BS when he reached for a familiar old souvenir mug beside his laptop and took a long swig, draining it of its contents. 

Jason could not deadpan hard enough. 

“That better not be coffee.” 

How had the kid even gotten his filthy little hands on…?! The coffee machine was locked!

Tim jumped at the voice far closer to him than outside the door and spun around to face the older boy as he hid the empty mug behind his back, utter panic behind those shining blue eyes.

Jason rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the mug. “Obviously guilty, hiding the evidence only proves it was evidence in the first place.”

Tim looked hesitant for all of three seconds before Jason gave him a look that would make Alfred proud and the kid relented, handing the mug over like he was relinquishing a piece of his soul. 

“Relax, Tim,” Jason sighed, “I’m not gonna smash it, I’m just gonna wash it.” The kid calmed down at that, but still looked unsure. “There’s breakfast downstairs, you have five minutes.” 

Jason spun on his heel and left the room, taking the mug with him. What was so special about the old thing anyway? The green, red, and yellow of the Bolivian flag was faded and barely recognizable, it would just look like a mess of colors to anyone who didn’t know their flags well enough. Maybe it was a souvenir from some trip Tim had gone on with his parents. But with how often the Drakes traveled, what was so special about a trip to Bolivia? Besides that, the mug looked over twenty years old so why would it be so special to a seven year old anyway? 

He sighed, knowing that was a mystery that might not ever get solved. Besides, whyever it was special was probably personal and Tim could share it if and when he wanted. Right now, Jason had a book to finish and school to get to. Sometime after making sure Tim actually got down in time for a proper breakfast. 

Chapter Text

Jason slid his left hand over his face as he tried not to audibly groan. He stared down at the notes in front of him as he added more scribbles to the mess of nonsense he already had written down. Mr. Bradwell had a tendency to drone for the entire class period and half of what he said were opinions that he expected everyone to take for fact. They weren’t fact and Jason would have loved to debate them. He had tried on several occasions (after all, what else was English class for but studying the actual language or debating the literary ideas), but the man had simply shut him down, told him he was wrong, and docked his grade. 

Sometimes it simply wasn’t worth fighting. He only had to tough this guy out for the rest of the year and then he’d get a new teacher and be able to stop dreading seventh period. 

The bell rang just as Jason finished the last word in his notes. He grinned and flipped his notebook shut, sliding it into his backpack and swinging the bag over his shoulder as he practically ran out the door. Mr. Bradwell shot him a look on the way out, but Jason didn’t care. He had plans for the day. Plans that mostly consisted of “go home”, “do homework”, “make dinner with Alfred”, “patrol with Bruce”, and “make Dick pay up on midnight chili dogs.” Throw in a bit of reading time in there somewhere and it made for a perfect night. 

He made a quick stop at the school library for a reference book on an essay before heading out to the front of the school to wait for Alfred. He stopped when he saw a small floofy black head at the bottom of the steps. 

Right. Tim. He hadn’t seen the kid all day since they split up for their different classes and he’d completely forgotten about him. He’d have to add “play with Tim” or “help Tim with homework” to his plans tonight. After all, first school night in a new place could mess with concentration sometimes and the kid might be able to use the help. 

And he couldn’t sneak coffee if Jason was right there with him. Or stay up super late without anyone noticing…

Jason descended the rest of the stairs and swung his backpack off his shoulder to the ground in front of him as he sat down on the last step next to Tim. The kid didn’t look up or acknowledge him at all, totally lost in the math assignment on his lap. 

Yeah, there was a very good possibility he’d need help with homework tonight. Though as Jason watched, Tim breezed through the arithmetic like he was born for it and should have been several grades higher, despite already having skipped grades. 

Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim frowned and pursed his lips as he reached the sixteenth problem. He’d finished all the easy review questions and had finally gotten to the new problems they’d been learning. He just had to remember which kind of average “mode” was… Median was easy, that was the middle one, but the mean and the mode he sometimes got mixed up...

“It’s the one that shows up the most.”

Tim jumped, dropping his homework in the process and a voice beside him answered his unspoken question. 

Jason just smiled sheepishly, Tim’s homework in hand, successfully saved from landing in the mud. Which made sense, he was Robin, of course he had the reflexes to catch Tim’s homework after Tim had been clumsy. He could feel his cheeks heating up but tried to push it down. 

“Sorry…” Jason winced as he held out the paper. “I didn’t mean to scare you, you just looked like you could use some help.”

Well he didn’t. He just needed some time to remember which one was which, but he wasn’t about to tell Robin his services weren’t needed. Several long moments stretched by as Tim searched for anything he could tell the Boy Wonder.

“The mode,” Jason helpfully supplied after Tim stayed quiet. He pointed to the paper in the boy’s hand. “It’s the one that appears the most times.”

Right. Homework. Of course. Anything to distract Tim from this embarrassment. And if he got his homework done soon, he could tell Mr. W--Bruce he was finished and claim to go to bed without any further questions asked and then he could engage in some photography tonight. He just had to get his homework done. 

He followed Jason’s finger to the problem he was on before nodding and writing down the correct answer--in this case 7. 

“Thank you…” He tried not to mumble, but his words came out quiet regardless. Mother would be so ashamed, talking to Bruce Wayne’s son like Tim was just some common kid. He was ready for Jason to snort and rescind his offer of help to an embarrassed and embarrassing little kid, but the older boy just smiled and sat back, letting Tim continue through his problem set. He only pitched in when Tim paused for more than a few seconds. Which didn’t happen often. 

Tim didn’t need help. He could do his homework just fine on his own. He’d done the first fifteen problems in less than ten minutes and he’d gotten to fourth grade all by himself, he didn’t need help . But Jason didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t condescending or stuck up about Tim being able to take his help, he just sat there, grinning like this was something enjoyable. Like sitting next to Tim and helping him with his homework when Tim knew Jason had homework of his own--was some sort of welcome break from his own problems. 

Which didn’t make any sense at all, Robin of all people shouldn’t have time to spend helping some “know it all” kid with his homework, no less be enjoying it. 

Jason snapped his head up toward the road right as Tim finished the 21st problem. 

“Alfie’s here!” the older boy grinned and bounced to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and then grabbing Tim’s as well before he had a chance to protest. 

Which he wanted to, he really did. But there were two large textbooks, three notebooks, and a laptop in that backpack and Tim’s back already hurt. And besides that, the older boy was already halfway to the car by the time Tim gathered his thoughts and got to his feet. 

Next time he’d just have to be faster and not make Jason feel like he had to help. 

After all, Tim was plenty capable on his own. 

Chapter Text

The door at the top of the stairs flew open, but Bruce ignored it as he pulled on his suit. Footsteps started pounding down the stairs two at a time, but that could easily just be a kid with a lot of energy. It wasn’t until his son started shouting his name in something close to panic that Bruce looked up in concern. Any degree of panic wasn’t normal for Jason.

“Bruce!! Tim’s not here!!”

The boy got to the last step and nearly barreled into the older man before Bruce caught him and set him back down. 

“Whoa, Jason, slow down,” Bruce cautioned, looking his son in the eye. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

Jason nodded, taking several deep breaths to collect himself before explaining. “I went to check on Tim. To make sure he was in bed before we left for patrol. He’s not. I can’t find him anywhere. And it’s raining outside, what if he thought he could walk home and he left and he’s out there alone and cold and tiny and--”

Bruce shook his head as his son started rambling and laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. It was far too understandable for Jason to be worried about the Drake heir. As tiny as he was and with Jason’s past, knowing what it was like to be out alone in the cold rain like that. But panicking wasn’t going to help and Jason knew that. 

He calmed down and nodded again at Bruce’s silent cue. 

“Good,” Bruce offered a small smile, keeping his words calm. “We can check the security cameras and find out which way he went, ok? Maybe he’s still in the Manor and we just need to find him.”

Jason muttered a quiet “Right, of course.” before going to the Batcomputer to pull up the feed. Bruce stood behind him as he pulled off his suit again and got dressed. He couldn’t easily go find Tim as Batman. He watched as Jason rewound the security footage of the hall outside the bedrooms by about an hour. There, a tiny figure exited Tim’s room carrying a large backpack and made his way down the hall. Jason quickly switched the footage over to the next camera and traced the boy all the way to… The cellar. 

Bruce frowned. What would Tim be doing in the cellar? Maybe he had a taste for fine wine? Though Bruce had a hard time imagining the boy being able to open a bottle on his own. Besides that, Tim was far too smart to think an empty bottle would go unnoticed. And why the backpack? If he wanted a quiet place to do homework he could have just asked. 

Jason seemed just as confused and sped up the footage, watching the door to the only entrance or exit (that the boy would know of anyway) remain closed all the way until the live feed. He stared at the screen for only a moment longer before pursing his lips and moving to stand, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll check on him, Jaylad. How about you get warmed up and ready for patrol?”

Robin sighed, reminding Bruce far too much of a tired dad, before standing to do as he was told. 

Bruce gathered himself and headed for the stairs. Whatever the seven year old was doing in the cellar, it couldn’t be that much of a problem. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Nightwing grinned, showing off all his teeth in his most charming yet annoying smile. To his satisfaction, Batman just groaned. “You went to check on the kid, who’d spent the entire hour between 11:00 and 12:00 in the cellar and you found him…?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Sitting in the dark--”

“Like a true son of the Bat,” Dick proudly interjected, earning him a well deserved eye roll. So what if Bruce said he was just there “temporarily”, Tim even looked like family, Dick knew the truth even if Bruce hadn’t admitted it yet.

“--developing pictures,” Batman finished and ran his hand down his face. “He looked embarrassed and told me he wasn’t finished yet!”

“And the big bad bat didn’t have the heart to tell a pleading child no.” Seriously, why was Bruce even still trying to deny Tim was his son at this point? 

Dick was finding this whole situation far too amusing. Most kids would have been causing trouble. Smashing the wine bottles or drawing on the walls or something, but Tim apparently just had a hobby. And the shock of the kid being calm and nondestructive and politely informing Bruce that he wasn’t finished yet and asking him to leave had left the older man too stunned to tell him he needed to be in bed at 12:00 on a Tuesday night. So he’d just left him there. 

“I don’t even know why he had film in the first place…” Batman groaned and leaned against the wall of a roof elevator. “He said something about using digital pictures most of the time but liked ‘doing things the old fashioned way once in a while.’ He’s seven! What seven year old develops pictures in his free time?!”

Nightwing snickered, trying his hardest not to bust up laughing entirely, but there was far too much humor in the situation. The kid was somehow driving both his brother and his father crazy without even trying to. And neither of them could figure out what to do about it. As far as Dick was concerned, who cared if the kid had a hobby? So he was a little young, maybe Jack Drake liked developing pictures and did it with the kid, where was the harm in that? 

Dick looked up to see Bruce giving him that look again. The one that meant Dick wasn’t taking things as seriously as Bruce thought he should be. Well screw that, Bruce was taking things more seriously than Dick thought he should be so they averaged out. 

“What?! He’s just a kid with a hobby, B, no harm no foul.”

Bruce sighed, his shoulders sinking further into his chest. “You’re probably right, Nightwing. I just wish he’d do that sometime during the day, not when he’s supposed to be in bed and we’re all off on patrol.” 

Actually… Dick frowned in thought. That was a good point. They usually left for patrol earlier, but they’d gotten a late start tonight. Was it possible Tim had noticed they were never around after a certain hour and was trying to hide something from them? He couldn’t know where they disappeared to, but the kid was smart, maybe he’d noticed they all “retired to their rooms” after 11:00 and didn’t notice anything he might be doing. But what would he be hiding from them in a few pictures? 

“Nightwing?” Batman stood up, cutting into his thoughts. “You have something?”

Dick just shook his head. It was probably just coincidence anyway. “Naw, nothin’. But I’ll race you to the diner on 4th!” He grinned and leapt off the side of the building, knowing his dad would just smile fondly before following. And whether he won or not, Bruce would pay. And who was he to turn down free early morning snacks?

Chapter Text

Tim groaned as he rolled over in bed, throwing off the blankets that surrounded him as sweat dripped down his face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. 

He’d felt this coming for the last two days. He’d pushed it off. He was doing good, no one had noticed. 

But it was Friday. And he needed to go to school. He needed to get up, get to school, keep it together for one more day. And then tomorrow he could sleep it off. He just needed to get through the day, then he could come home and crash. No, wait, not home. The Waynes’ house. 

He was at the Waynes’ house, he really needed to keep it together, Dad promised Mr. Wayne that Tim wouldn’t be any trouble. He couldn’t be any trouble now, he couldn’t miss school. He had to get up, he had to push through, he had to--

His stomach twisted suddenly and he lurched, far too familiar with that feeling as he swung out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He barely had time to get the toilet seat up before he was leaning over the bowl and getting reacquainted with last night’s dinner. The spaghetti and steamed asparagus wasn’t nearly as good the second time around but stomach acid had a tendency to change the flavors of things. Mr. Pennyworth couldn’t be blamed. 

He didn’t move for several more moments as he gasped for breath, trying not to cry from the pounding in his head. He still needed to get dressed. He still needed to move and get down to breakfast before they realized something was wrong. 

No, nothing was wrong . He could do this. 

He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped his mouth and nose before flushing the toilet of everything he’d put in it, both willingly and unwillingly. He made it to the sink after a bit of effort and swished some water around his mouth before spitting it out and washing his hands. 

The soap was lavender scented, which was good. It’d help cover the smell of the vomit. And no one would notice. He just needed to get downstairs. He needed to get to his dresser, change into clean clothes, and get downstairs. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of--

He paused and looked down at his bare feet on the floor. 

Had that rug always been so soft? Why hadn’t he noticed? It looked warm too… And he was shivering. And his PJs were damp…

His knees hit the rug before he realized what was happening. He curled up against the cold and snuggled into as much warmth as he could steal from the rug, trying to stop himself from shivering. 

He needed to get dressed. He needed to get downstairs and get to school. He needed to.

But he still had time. He had a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce stifled a yawn as he walked into the kitchen, pausing the moment his eyes fell on his sons. The older was somehow balanced on a bar stool despite having every limb wrapped around his younger brother, totally trapping the lad in a cage tighter than anything Riddler could have dreamt up. Dick’s face was snuggled against Jason’s hair, eyes closed and a contented smile on his face, clearly convinced he was smothering his brother in love and affection. Jason, on the other hand, looked like he agreed only with the smothering part of that description. He’d apparently given up struggling and was glaring at Bruce with the darkest “do something already or so help me I will pour glitter into your boots so you track it through the house for years ” look on his face. 

So just another day in the Wayne household. 

Bruce, sometime after his mind woke up enough to catch up to the moment, couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Which made Jason scowl harder, but he’d forgive him when he rescued him from drowning in his brother’s limbs. 

“Dick…”

Said teen bounced his head up to flash Bruce a faux innocent smile. 

Bruce shook his head fondly and grabbed the mug of coffee Alfred had left for him. “Let your brother eat his breakfast, he’s got to get to school soon.”

Dick’s smile turned to a pout faster than he could do a cartwheel. “Aww, but B! He wasn’t even eating!”

Jason grunted, trying (and failing) once again to struggle out of the octopus’s hold. “Tim’s not here yet! I was going to make sure he wasn’t drinking coffee again when I was ambushed !” He spat the last word with a venomous glare behind him, but Dick just snuggled back down as his grin returned. 

“Alright,” Bruce nodded, struggling to keep the amusement out of his voice for his younger son’s sake. “I’ll go check on Tim. Dick --” He spoke the elder’s name in a harsh enough tone to make Jason smirk. “-- let your brother eat his breakfast. ” 

With that, Bruce spun on his heel, escaping out of the kitchen before he failed to maintain his composure and therefore further the embarrassment of his younger son. Even as he walked down the hall, he could hear Jason yelling for release as Dick yelled back that “Your arms are free! You can eat breakfast now!” 

Bruce didn’t bother hiding his smile as his sons’ banter faded behind him. 

He knocked softly on Tim’s door a few moments later, waiting several seconds for an answer before pushing the door slightly ajar. He frowned as he tracked over the empty bed, covers thrown off like the boy had been in some sort of hurry, but he was nowhere in sight. 

“Tim?” Bruce asked quietly as he pushed the door open farther, listening for any sound and glancing over the room for anything out of place. The bed looked slept in, at least, so the boy hadn’t stayed up the entire night drinking coffee and working on his laptop or accidentally fallen asleep in the cellar while developing pictures. That second one had never happened, thankfully, but Bruce still wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t. 

There still wasn’t any answer to his question so Bruce stepped fully into the room, calling the boy’s name a little louder this time, but he still got nothing. His eye fell on the bathroom door a moment later and he frowned. The door was cracked open, leaving just a few inches of space between the frame and the wood. Which was odd. If Tim had been using the bathroom, it was likely he would shut the door. If he left it open during or after using the bathroom, it was unlikely he’d close it at all. Unless he’d just blindly swung the door shut behind him with no regard for making sure it actually closed. 

Bruce frowned anyway, moving toward the door and pushing it open the rest of the way with a quiet knock to announce his presence should anyone be inside. But he froze at the sight that greeted him. 

Tim was in the bathroom alright, but he wasn’t using it. He was curled up on the rug by the sink, asleep and shivering with cold. 

“Tim?” Bruce asked again, trying to keep the worry and confusion out of his voice as he knelt down beside the boy and brushed the hair out of his face, but he stopped the moment his fingertips brushed skin. 

He was burning up. 

Of course. 

The bedsheets thrown off in a hurry, the door only half swung closed like privacy hadn’t been the most important thing on his mind on the way in, he must have had an emergency and then lacked the energy to make it back to bed. 

Bruce scooped the boy up, careful not to wake him, and brought him back to bed, tucking the blankets in around the small body. He had two phone calls to make. One to Tim’s school, and the other to his secretary at WE. Neither of them were going in today.

Chapter Text

Dick smiled fondly and shook his head as he pulled up to another stop light and put his foot down to balance the bike. He could feel Jason’s grip loosen up from around his abdomen as there wasn’t a current need to hold on tight, but he wished the same could be said about Jason’s mouth. Which apparently hadn’t loosened up from his rant since the last stop light. 

Jason should have known Dick couldn’t even hear him while they were moving. 

“--I mean, what if it’s pneumonia?! Dick, what if we have to take him to the hospital?! Do we even have his paperwork?! What’s his birthday!?!” The kid gasped suddenly at the thought. “Dick!! We don’t know when his birthday is!! What if we missed it?!”

Dick could barely keep himself from laughing, but he forced down the chuckles anyway and turned his head back far enough for his brother to hear him. “Calm down , Little Wing! It’s probably just a bug, Bruce and Alfred will take care of him. He’ll probably be better by the time you get back from school.”

Jason snorted, sounding offended. “You don’t know that! He’s tiny ! He’s probably more susceptible to getting sick and dying! For all you know he could be dead by the time I get ho--”

Dick revved the engine as the light turned green, his brother’s voice drowning out in the wind rushing past his helmet. He felt a little bad for ignoring his brother like that, but it wasn’t like he could just stop in traffic to calm him down. Besides, he didn’t need to hear Jason to know what he was saying. And Tim would be fine, despite Jason’s worry. If it turned out he was really that sick and needed to go to the hospital, Bruce would take him in and send Alfred to pick Jason up from school. His brother didn’t need to worry about the baby of the family being dead by the time he got home. 

He pulled up to the curb of his little brothers’ school a minute later and sighed as his brother’s ranting filtered through his mind like it had never stopped. Which it apparently hadn’t. 

Dick shook his head as he pulled off the helmet and patted Jason’s hands to let him know they had arrived and he could let go now. Which Jason did, swinging his leg over the bike and hopping onto the sidewalk to pull his helmet off, never once even hesitating in his ramblings. 

“--or bronchitis or strep throat or maybe he got a cut and it got infected ‘cause Gotham is dirty and he’s tiny so he can’t fight infection very well and he already doesn’t eat enough, if he can’t keep anything down he could starve within the week and--”

“Jason!” Dick grabbed both his little brother’s shoulders and knelt down to eye level so Jason couldn’t possibly ignore him. “Jaybird, breathe already!” Dick took a deep breath himself and held it in for a few seconds, knowing Jason would follow his lead, even if only subconsciously. 

Thankfully, he did, though looked annoyed when Dick didn’t immediately get to the point of the interruption. 

“Jaybird, listen to me,” he softened his tone before continuing, never breaking eye contact with his little brother. “Tim. Will. Be. Fine. Bruce will stay with him all day. He’ll know the minute it gets bad, if it does. And he will have you excused and picked up if Tim goes to the hospital. Right now, the best you can do for Tim is collect his homework from his teachers like Bruce asked, ok?”

Jason sighed, defeated, but nodded at Dick’s words. 

“Tim’s going to be fine,” Dick repeated himself as he pulled his little brother in for a hug, which Jason only grudgingly allowed. “You can even text Bruce for updates between classes, ok? I’m sure he’d love to give them to you.”

Jason nodded again, muttering a “good idea” and “thanks Dick” before pulling out of the hug and handing Dick one of the two backpacks he had been wearing on the ride over. 

“Thanks, Little Wing,” Dick grinned as he took it and remounted his bike for his ride to Gotham University. “Now get in there before you’re late.”

Jason flashed a grin Dick could have sworn he’d copied from him before turning around and bolting to beat the bell. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce rubbed his temples as he stared at the computer on his lap. Some days it was a wonder to him how one email could get on his nerves so fast. He had had to cancel or reschedule nearly half a dozen meetings today and a Mr. Hendricks, his 11:00, was not taking it well. Apparently this was “unprofessional” and Bruce “needed to choose between work and family.” He was choosing between work and family, he just hadn’t made the choice this idiot wanted. What he needed to choose between right now was the sick kid on the bed a few feet away from him and the desire to keep his 11:00 appointment just to find out how quickly this Hendricks guy’s life could crumble at the hands of a furious billionaire vigilante. 

Not that he needed to actually go into work to shoot off an email to his secretary requesting she reschedule his 11:00 for never, and cancel all dealings with this guy and his wannabe company for the rest of forever.

Bruce looked up suddenly as Tim stirred. He didn’t hesitate to stand, leaving the laptop behind on the chair he’d been occupying, but he barely had time to take a step toward the bed before Tim’s eyes flew open and the boy had thrown off his blankets and disappeared inside the bathroom faster than any of Batman’s Robins could hide from gunfire. Predictably, it only took another few moments before the sounds of retching could be heard echoing around the tile and glass of the bathroom. 

By the time Bruce got to the door, Tim was already on his knees leaning over the toilet bowl and gasping for the breath he’d lost. And he was crying. Silent tears of pain dropped to mix with the puke and stomach acid already in the toilet, even as he was shaking, struggling to stay on his knees where he could reach over the edge. 

Bruce was by his side before he even realized he had moved. He reached out to rub his shoulder but Tim flinched back when he made contact, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. Neither moved for several seconds before Tim grabbed a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth and stood, flushing the toilet before Bruce could stop him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry,” Tim stammered, his voice hoarse and quiet but unmistakable. “I’ll be down for school in a minute, I already finished my homework and--” 

Bruce froze, staring at the child in front of him who was flushing the toilet from throwing up and wiping the tears of pain out of his eyes while apologizing for being late to school. What kind of rumors had he heard about Bruce to make him think Bruce would be mad? He knew things were thrown around about him and there was plenty of revolting speculation about why he had adopted Dick and Jason, but was the boy really that scared of him? 

“No, Tim,” Bruce soothed, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder and meeting his eye when he looked up--even if it was in fear. “It’s alright, Tim. We all get sick sometimes. It’s ok to stay home and get better, I’m not mad.”

Tim didn’t look sure, staring at Bruce for several more seconds as he tried to process through all the levels of pain he must have been in right now. When he finally did move, he dropped his gaze and stared at Bruce’s hand on his shoulder, looking like he might pull away any moment. 

“It’s ok,” Bruce repeated, softer this time. “I’m not mad, Tim. It’s ok.”

The message finally seemed to get through as Tim’s eyes glazed over in a tired pain and he dropped to his knees again. Bruce rushed forward to catch him before he hurt himself on the tile and then shifted him so he could still reach the toilet bowl if he needed. 

“Done?” Bruce whispered, to which the boy only barely nodded, his small frame shaking with cold despite the heat that was radiating off of him. Bruce nodded back and held up a wad of toilet paper for him to blow his nose into before he stood, shifting the boy against his chest and cradling him close. He made another stop at the sink to let him rinse his mouth out and get a drink before Bruce made his way back to the bed with his cargo. Tim’s eyes had closed even before they made it out of the bathroom, but Bruce could feel him pressing against his chest for warmth. 

He brought him back over to the bed and shifted to set him back down, but froze when he heard a small wince. It was quiet enough Bruce nearly thought he imagined it, especially as he stood still and nothing else happened, but he knew what he’d heard. 

“Tim?” he stared down at the bundle in his arms, looking for any sign of coherence. “Do you not want me to put you down?”

He waited for several seconds, listening for any kind of sound or answer, but got nothing. He didn’t expect to get anything, Tim didn’t like to be touched. He hadn’t let any of them touch him since the day he arrived a week ago, why would he want to snuggle all of a sudden? 

Bruce stood still and waited until he was fairly certain the boy had fallen back asleep when he felt a shift. The smallest change, but right as he moved to put the boy down again, he curled closer against Bruce’s chest. And when Bruce looked down for some sort of confirmation in his features, Tim was crying. Totally silent, not even a sniff, but there were tears running down his face. 

Bruce didn’t even hesitate to pull the boy closer to his chest and card a hand through his hair. He sat down on the bed and pulled the blankets up to Tim’s chin, situating the boy where he knew it was most comfortable. 

Bruce didn’t know why Tim never let them touch him. And Bruce didn’t know why that was changing now. Maybe there were just trust issues and Tim was finally working through them. Maybe he had just been scared of Bruce and he was finally realizing Bruce wasn’t going to hurt him. 

He had no idea. 

But whatever it was, as Bruce ran his hand over Tim’s back and played with the tips of his hair, Tim absolutely melted.

Chapter Text

Jason threw the car door open and bolted up the steps to the manor almost before Alfred had had time to park. According to Bruce’s texts, there was no update. Tim was still sick. He’d slept most the morning and afternoon, barely waking up for bathroom trips and he couldn’t keep anything down. Bruce insisted it was ok. It was just a normal bug, it would pass, and Jason didn’t need to worry. 

As if.  

Bruce was a rich kid with no concept of disease and someone needed to take care of the kid who was clearly incapable of taking care of himself. 

Jason barely kept himself from snorting as he took the stairs two at a time, moving through the hall as silently as any worried Robin could. Which was admittedly not very quiet. So sue him. He did force himself to slow down and walk softer when he got closer to Tim’s door, careful not to make enough sound to wake him up if he was sleeping. 

He knocked softly, waiting for the hushed “come in” of Bruce’s deep voice signaling that Tim was likely still asleep. And Jason couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or not. 

Sure, sleep was good for him and Jason was glad he was sleeping, but sleeping this much was also a clear sign of being very sick. So he couldn’t see how it was particularly comforting. 

He took a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Jason couldn’t quite see much in the dimmer light at first, but it didn’t take more than a few moments for Bruce to come into focus. He was sitting in the middle of the bed and leaning against the backboard while he worked on something on the laptop beside him and cradled a bundle of blankets. A bundle of blankets with floofy black hair.

Jason barely kept himself from sighing in relief and ran over to the bed, dropping his backpack by the frame as he did. Bruce shut the laptop he had been using one handed and moved it to the other side of the bed to give Jason room to scramble up beside them. Which he did, immediately looking Tim over for any signs of needing a hospital. 

The kid was pale. Very pale. But he was normally about as white as a ghost so that was probably normal for being sick. And he looked tired. But he was sleeping. Other than that, there really wasn’t much to see besides the sweat plastering his hair to his face, but Bruce had a wet washcloth over his forehead and there wasn’t much else Jason could think to do. So he just sighed and shifted to sit back against the headboard. 

“Satisfactory care?” Bruce whispered, a small smile playing at his lips as he ran a soothing hand through Jason’s hair. 

Jason half snorted, keeping his voice quiet, and mumbled something along the lines of “It’ll do…” before shifting closer to Bruce’s side. He could feel the older man silently chuckling under his ear, but didn’t care as Bruce drew him closer with his free arm, somehow continuing to card his fingers through Jason’s hair as he did. 

And if Bruce snuck a kiss to the top of Jason’s head as they snuggled? Well, what Jason pretended not to notice didn’t matter, right? Just don’t let Dick find out. 

He bolted back up suddenly, cringing as he nearly made Bruce startle and jostle Tim, but the Dark Knight was more skilled than that and Tim thankfully didn’t stir. Bruce cocked his head in a “what do you need?” sort of way as Jason hopped off the bed and pulled a folder out of his backpack, then scrambled back up beside them. 

“Almost forgot,” he explained, holding up the folder. “I collected all of Tim’s homework. You would not believe how long it took.” Jason muffled another snort, rolling his eyes at the same time.

Bruce just smiled and took the folder to set it down with his laptop before reaching for his son. “Yeah?” he whispered, pulling Jason back into his side. “And why was that? Tim that big of a problem child at school?”

“No!” Jason practically hissed, lacing his voice with as much venom as he could while keeping his voice low. “He’s that much of a teacher’s pet!”

Bruce was amused. Jason could just feel his smirk even though he couldn’t see the man’s face. 

Yeah, yeah, Jason was well aware of his status as teacher’s pet (to everyone but Mr. Bradwell--he still hated his class) but this was different. 

“He’s not even trying, Bruce! They all just like him ‘cause he’s quiet and doesn’t make trouble!” Jason raised the tone of his voice for his best impression of Ms. Brooks, Tim’s math teacher who had stalled Jason for at least ten minutes while he tried to get away and get home. “‘That Tim Drake! He’s so well behaved and independent!’ ‘Oh, you ought to see him do his homework, he never even needs any help!’ ‘That boy is so well put together, you’d never believe he’s only seven!’ You should see him at 3:00 in the morning on his seventh cup of coffee!!”

Bruce chuckled then, running his fingers through Jason’s hair in a not so subtle attempt to calm him down. As if Jason could be calmed so easily, he was only letting himself settle so he wouldn’t wake Tim, thank you very much. 

“Well, he is a bit mature for his age, don’t you think?”

Jason huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at the bundle in Bruce’s arms. The kid might have everyone else fooled but Jason wasn’t convinced. “I watched him take a bite of his science homework and try to read his eggs last Wednesday.”

Bruce laughed again, but soon grew serious at the look that must have been in Jason’s eyes. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?” 

Jason barely kept himself from snorting, sinking deeper into Bruce’s hold instead. He swallowed before whispering his answer, never taking his eyes off the kid. “Everyone thinks he’s mature and independent, but he’s just a kid. And he’s sick. And he’s tiny.”

“You’ve got a point,” Bruce hummed, squeezing Jason’s shoulders reassuringly. “Tell you what, if his fever hasn’t broken by lunch tomorrow, we’ll take him to see Leslie, alright?”

Jason sighed and nodded against Bruce’s chest. He could wait til then. 

~~~~~~~~~~

You already have two boys and we both know the house is too big for you anyway, just give him a guest room, you won’t even know he’s there.

Dad’s words were pounding through Tim’s head on repeat. 

You won’t even know he’s there.  

Tim was supposed to be staying out of sight. Unseen, unheard, unproblematic, unmisbehaved. And so far, he was failing at all of those. He’d thought staying out of the way would have been easier, Mr. Wayne was so busy already, he was CEO of WE, raising two kids, and being Batman , but somehow he was always catching Tim at stuff. Mom and Dad never caught him when he wanted to disappear and they were only busy with DI stuff. Mr. Wayne had so much more keeping him busy but he still caught Tim all the time . 

So Tim was failing. 

He was a huge problem. And Mr. Wayne was going to complain to Mom and Dad about him and then he’d be in trouble and then Mom and Dad would get in a fight and they’d yell at him and they’d yell at each other and they wouldn’t let him hide and they might even throw things and then they’d leave again and they wouldn’t take him back to the Wayne’s house this time, they’d just leave him home like normal and they’d be so upset they wouldn’t think about stocking the fridge and they were running low on coffee anyway and--and it was all because Tim was being a problem. 

Mr. Wayne skipped work because Tim wasn’t strong enough to go to school. 

Mr. Wayne was important. He was CEO. Mom and Dad say work is most important, without work there’s no money and no money means no food and no house. Tim was selfish to ask them for something when they needed to work. 

And now Mr. Wayne was skipping work because Tim wasn’t strong enough.  

Mr. Wayne had to take care of Dick and Jason too. And if he didn’t work, who would pay Alfred? They’d be out on the streets. And it was all Tim’s fault. He had to be better. He couldn’t be a problem, he couldn’t make them take care of him, he was seven years old, he was plenty capable of taking care of himself. He’d been sick before, too. Lots of times. He knew how to take care of himself, he’d be fine. 

But Mr. Wayne wasn’t letting him. 

Tim had messed up, he’d let them find out he was sick. And now Mr. Wayne was skipping work because he thought Tim wasn’t capable of caring for himself. 

He had to do better. He had to prove they didn’t need to help him. Maybe it wasn’t too late for Mr. Wayne to go back to work and make money for the day. Maybe it wasn’t too late if he could just get out of bed and prove he was fine, then they’d leave him alone and he could get to school and--

The bed shifted underneath him as something cool and wet landed on his forehead. 

“Tim?” a deep voice rumbled from somewhere both above and below him at the same time. And Tim had no idea how that was possible. “Do you think you can drink something, chum?”

Drink something? Of course. His throat was impossibly dry and water sounded really good right now, but he could get up and get it himself, thank you, he didn’t need any help. In fact, he was about to open his eyes and say just that to whoever happened to be asking when he felt a glass press up to his lips. He didn’t stop to think before shifting farther forward and drinking what he could of what turned out to be apple juice, though it tasted a little bitter. Like medicine. Which meant… 

Someone poisoned his apple juice with medicine. They could have at least had the decency to use coffee, that was so much easier to hide flavors in. Oh well, liquid was still liquid and he could get his own coffee in a minute, he just had to get up and convince them he was fine. 

Whoever was there pulled the glass away as soon as he shifted away from it, but then the blankets tightened around him before he could squirm away. And his muscles hurt. And the tightness felt good. And he didn’t want to move…

But he needed to. He needed to get up and prove to them he could take care of himself and he didn’t need help. Dad and Mom were going to be so angry if he didn’t. He could take care of himself, he could get his own coffee, and he could make it to the bathroom and back whenever he needed to, he just had to show them--

A warm hand landed on the side of his face, tucking his hair behind his ear and then stroking his cheek. Gently, softly, slowly. It guided his head back down against the pillow--the pillow that was moving. Warm and soft and thumping and rising and falling under his head. 

Breathing . 

The pillow was breathing. 

And the pillow had a heartbeat.

The pillow was alive .

Which meant Tim wasn’t alone. 

He needed to get up and prove to them he was fine on his own. But the pressure around him was too calming, the hand on his cheek too soothing, and the heartbeat in his pillow too mesmerizing. 

And Tim couldn’t keep himself awake. 

Chapter Text

“--acious condition of mind may have been my own fault, how much Miss Havisham’s, how much my sister’s, is now of no moment to me or to any one. The change was made in me; the thing was done. Well or ill done, excusably or inexcusably…”

Tim frowned as the voice beside him continued to talk on, soft enough it hadn’t woken him but loud enough he couldn’t quite tune it out now that he was conscious. 

“--I only felt that I was dusty with the dust of small coal, and that I had a weight upon my daily remembrance to which the anvil was a feather.”

The voice was smooth and confident as it spoke, just as it always was in Tim’s dreams. Just as he always was. Jason Todd, that is. Robin. His favorite Robin. Who always cared about everyone, who always understood what was wrong, what was really hurting someone after they were saved from a mugging in a way Bruce and Dick never had. Jason always cared. No matter what. 

“I was quite as dejected on the first working-day of my apprenticeship as in that after-time; but I am glad to know that I never breathed a murmur to Joe while my indentures lasted.”

Tim pursed his lips as he snuggled deeper into his blankets. He’d woken up with the sound of Jason’s voice ringing through his head a dozen times before, but it had never been anything like this. Nothing so confusing. What apprenticeship was he talking about and who was Joe? Tim wasn’t really sure he cared though, as long as he was still here. Jason’s voice usually faded rather quickly when he woke up and would definitely be gone by the time he opened his eyes. As long as he stayed, what did it matter what he was saying? 

Tim shifted, hugging his pillow close as he tuned everything else out but Jason’s voice. 

“What I wanted, who can say? How can I say, when I never knew? What I dreaded was, that in some unlucky hour I, being at my grimiest and commonest, should lift up my eyes and see Estella looking in at one of the wooden windows of the forge.”

That was ridiculous, Jason was anything but common and grimy, anyone who said any differently would have to deal with Tim’s wrath. Like Mrs. Prueitt at that gala four months ago. After the spectacle she made of herself when she got agitated and drank too much, no one remembered to talk about Jason. No one ever cared to ask what had pushed her to the edge of drinking that much though and Tim would never speak a word, but Jason’s grateful smile at whatever had caused the attention to shift from him would always be worth it. 

But wait, back up, had Jason said Estella ? Estella and Joe and hadn’t he mentioned Miss Havisham earlier? Those names were familiar. Tim had read something about those people. Summer reading assignment, he was fairly certain. But if it was reading, that meant Jason was reading. Reading to him .

“After that, when we went in to supper, the place and the meal would have a more homely look than ever, and I would feel more ashamed of home than ever, in my own ungracious breast…”

Jason trailed off after that last bit, followed by a soft thud that sounded like a book closing and then a clink of china. And that was a weird sound for a dream…

Tim shifted, peaking his eyes open to look up at the figure beside him. Who was there. Jason Todd was really there, sitting right next to him, a book on his lap and a teacup in his hands.

“Hey, Tim.” Jason smiled, meeting Tim’s eyes like he’d known he was awake the entire time. Knowing Jason, he probably had. “Bruce said your fever broke and he had to take care of something at the office but he’ll be home for dinner and he hopes you’re feeling better. Alfred made tea.” He motioned to the cup in his hand as Tim noticed a trey just beyond the older boy on the other side of the bed. “Want some? It’ll help your throat feel better.”

Tim stared for several long moments as his mind struggled to catch up. This wasn’t a dream. Jason Todd was really sitting next to him, reading to him as he slept. Bruce Wayne hoped he felt better. Alfred Pennyworth was making him tea. 

Wait, this wasn’t his room. 

His eyes widened as he looked around, remembering where he was. He was at the Waynes’. He was staying with them while Mom and Dad were gone. And he’d gotten sick. He hadn’t been able to hide it. He still didn’t feel too good but it was better. He could hide it now. 

And Jason was still holding the teacup out, just waiting for him to take it. And he looked so hopeful, Tim couldn’t say no. 

He pushed himself up as Jason put a pillow against the headrest for him to lean against before letting Tim take the cup. Which he did, slow and careful so as not to spill on the Waynes’ guest bed, but after one sip, he couldn’t stop himself from gulping the whole thing down. It tasted amazing and he was so thirsty and it was the perfect temperature to not burn his throat but still feel good and–and he just downed an entire teacup of tea. In only a couple gulps. Mom would be horrified. She would scold him and tell him she was disappointed in him and there was no point having nice things if he couldn’t enjoy them or at least be proper about it and it was an insult to her to not even appreciate something she didn’t have to make for him and he should be grateful instead of just gulping the whole thing and–

And Jason was laughing. 

Jason was laughing . 

Not at him, not like he was mocking Tim or anything, just light and heartfelt like he thought it was funny. He wasn’t scolding him. He didn’t think it was rude. He thought it was funny. 

“Nothing quite as good as Alfred’s tea after being sick, right?” he grinned, not waiting for Tim’s answer before taking his cup and filling it up again with the teapot on the trey beside him and handing it back. “He’s teaching me how to do it but it isn’t the same. No one can make tea quite like Alfred.” 

Jason grinned, watching as Tim sipped at his second cup slower, but still probably faster than he should be. 

And he was right. It was amazing. Tim couldn’t imagine anything that could be better right now than Alfred’s tea. It might not wake him up like coffee would, but coffee didn’t soothe his throat quite so well. There was nothing Tim could imagine that would be better than Alfred’s tea right now. And shared with his hero. 

He’d have to be better about staying out of their way from now on, he couldn’t make them take care of him like this, but for now, he could enjoy the moment. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he pulled into the garage and stepped out of his car. He hated leaving his kids alone when they were sick but Tim was already in the recovery phase and it wasn’t like Jason would let anything happen to him. If anyone could ever even convince Jason to leave the boy’s side. Although Bruce did hope he’d use the time to do his homework while he waited. He knew for a fact Jason had the first 20 chapters of Great Expectations due by Monday. 

Oh well, it wasn’t like Jason would forget it, he was always careful to get everything done on time, it was just a matter of what else he would have to sacrifice if he put it off too long. 

Bruce opened the door to the main part of the manor, moving to his office to drop his briefcase before heading up to his room to change out of his suit. Once downed in a t-shirt and sweats, he made a quick stop at Tim’s room only to discover the boy must have been feeling well enough to move about the house as neither he nor Jason were anywhere near. Based on the unusually loud sounds of pots and pans on the stove, he guessed they were in the kitchen. Alfred had long since mastered the art of cooking silently. Jason, however, had a ways to go. Not that anyone was bothered. 

Bruce made his way down to the kitchen then, pausing in the doorway to silently pull out his phone and snap a picture of his father and son in matching aprons at the stove before stepping farther in for a better look of the entire room. 

Alfred and Jason were making what looked like lasagna while Tim sat at the counter with a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders and working on what looked like homework. He was clearly a little cold if the blanket was any indication, but he was no longer shivering and there was a healthy amount of color to his cheeks. Probably still hungry after the number of times he emptied the contents of his stomach, but it looked like dinner would be within the hour and the boy had a plate of snacks and a large mug of tea beside him. Really, with Alfred and Jason in the house, Bruce didn’t have anything to worry about. 

“Evening Tim, feeling better?” Bruce smiled and reached out for a quick hug, but Tim flinched back before he made contact. Just like he had done that first day. And the second and third and every day anyone had tried to touch him. And Bruce felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yes,” Tim nodded, sitting up taller, more proper. “Thank you.”

Bruce stood frozen for a few seconds before nodding back and stepping away to give the boy his space. “Glad to hear it, chum.” He offered a smile before pulling up his own stool, making sure to leave one space between them. 

Tim was entitled to his space. He didn’t have to accept hugs if he didn’t want them and Bruce would never force him to, but he had thought something changed. He had thought they had grown closer. Tim had been so cuddly the last 34 hours, Bruce had really thought he was just shy and they’d gotten past it. 

…apparently not. 

Maybe it wasn’t an issue of shyness. Maybe Tim only liked to snuggle when he was sick and he just wasn’t a very touchy person. That was ok. Disappointing–if Bruce was honest with himself–but ok. If Tim didn’t want to be touched, he didn’t have to be. And Bruce wouldn’t make him. 

Chapter Text

Dick frowned as he stared across the table. Subtly, mind you, because he didn’t want to freak the baby bird out. He got freaked out way too easily. Hugs, people sneaking up on him, people standing too close, speaking too loud, looking at him for too long, he even got freaked out if there were too many people near him. So far Dick’s staring had gone unnoticed though. Which he would be proud of except for the fact that he was Nightwing , he could watch a child without them noticing, thank you very much. Also Tim was staring at his food currently and letting Bruce and Jason discuss the latest book Little Wing had devoured. But that wasn’t the point. The baby bird was doing it again. 

Just like he always did. 

Looking half starved, that is, but absolutely refusing to eat his food like a normal kid. He was apparently incapable of sitting on his legs to boost himself up or sitting criss-cross-applesauce or kneeling on his chair to be high enough or any other normal seven-year-old way of sitting . He just sat ramrod straight and pretended he didn’t have an issue getting his mouth over his bowl so that he wouldn’t spill. 

And his speed . Ug. How was it even possible to eat that slow?

Dick barely kept himself from groaning. Externally, anyway. Because the baby bird was so obviously hungry and yet… He never slurped or shoveled food in or took bigger bites than he could easily chew. He never even swallowed before he finished completely chewing. He just took small little bites and chewed at least nine times before swallowing. And yes, Dick knew this for a fact, he’d been counting. He was worried, ok? Sue him. It wasn’t like he asked to have little brothers so obviously this was Bruce’s fault. 

Tim just looked so uncomfortable , and so hungry , just like he always did. For once, would it kill him to just scarf down his food like a normal kid? Be a little impolite, no one here would mind, they all wanted to see Tim get a proper amount of food. Clearly, something needed to be done. 

Dick smiled slightly, dropping all subtleties to openly stare at the kid across from him as he shifted in his chair to fold his legs under him. Criss-cross-applesauce. And a little taller now too. 

He leaned over the table and picked up his bowl like it was a delicate flower that would break if he touched it wrong. Then he cleared his throat. Not quite loud enough to disturb Bruce or Jason, just loud enough to get Tim’s attention. Which it did. 

The baby bird startled at the sound, glancing up with a hint of panic to meet Dick’s eyes, but softened in confusion when Dick merely smirked at him and held up his soup bowl with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

Dick made sure to maintain eye contact, keeping Tim mesmerized and his attention locked as Dick bent down over the table and brought the bowl up to his lips. He took a deep, dramatic breath before shifting his attention to his soup and then slurping . 

Straight from the edge of the bowl. 

As loud and annoyingly as he possibly could. 

Bruce and Jason went quiet almost immediately and he could just feel their shocked expressions. Bruce’s mouth hanging slightly open as he prepared to chastise his eldest who had apparently forgotten everything Alfred taught him, and Jason staring in disbelief, wondering what kind of stuck up rich family he had been brought into. But after a suppressed, barely audible giggle from the other side of the table, Bruce’s chastising never came. 

Dick grinned, tilting his bowl farther up until it hid most of his face from view as he tried to lick at the beans that had stuck in the corner of the dish. It took a little effort, but he eventually got the last of them and set the bowl back down, munching loudly and smacking his lips as he swallowed. Without chewing nine times. 

He leaned back in his chair and gave his stomach a little pat as he looked back over at Tim with a grin. The baby bird was trying not to laugh—and doing a decent job of it—but he couldn’t totally hide his smile, instead forced to shovel food into his mouth to pretend he didn’t find this funny. 

Dick just grinned wider. 

Baby Bird was eating. Mission accomplished. 

All that was left now was to get him some hugs. 

“Hey!” Dick bolted to sit upright, turning toward Bruce with an excited smile. “How about a movie night?!” Movie night with lots of pillows and blankets and popcorn and snuggles—they even kept the theater room colder than the rest of the house solely because of the blanket forts and warm hugs that happened there—it was the perfect recipe for cuddling a baby bird. And Dick knew for a fact that Tim had just caught up on his homework after being sick last Friday so his evening was free. And Dick didn’t have much homework tonight and Jason always worked ahead and Wednesdays weren’t bad for patrol anyway, they could start a little late. It was the perfect way to spend the evening. 

Jason cast one look at Tim before his eyes widened in understanding. He had been the one to tell Dick Tim had caught up on homework so he had no hesitations about the night either. And movies were a good way to get people to fall asleep and Jason was always worried about the baby bird’s sleeping habits so obviously this was a beneficial way to spend the evening from both their perspectives.

Both boys turned to Bruce then, simultaneously dialing their puppy dog eyes up to eleven, knowing full well Bruce could barely say no to one of them, no less both at the same time. Even as they watched, Bruce shifted like he was being tortured, his face slowly softening. 

Oh yeah. 

Evening of snuggles was as good as theirs. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pacific Rim?”

Jason snorted in disgust and rolled his eyes as Dick held up the sorry excuse for entertainment. “Gross, Dickface, all it is is two hours of explosions and kissing.”

“Aw, come on, Little Wing!” Dick whined, trying to turn his puppy dog eyes on his little brother. As if they worked on Jason. Jason knew what real puppy dog eyes looked like on the face of a starving adorable little kid. Dick was not that. “You like explosions though!”

“Yeah,” Jason snorted again. “In moderation. When they’re not going to hurt anyone. And when they’re real. Real so you can see the colors and appreciate the heat and hear the crackling and watch it slowly burn down to embers, none of this pitiful CGI garbage they think they can call storytelling.”

Dick still didn’t look convinced. He was actually pouting . As if that would do anything to sway Jason’s determination. 

“Besides, we have a seven year old.”

Dick deflated at that, obviously unable to argue with the fact that Pacific Rim really wasn’t a good movie for a child. He perked up again quickly though, returning the PG-13 movie to the shelf and continuing to scan for something a little more kid friendly. 

“Hey, how about Megamind?”

Jason hummed for a moment before nodding. Megamind was significantly better suited for a kid and it had great character development. Plus it poked fun at Uncle Clark and that was always entertaining to watch. 

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

Dick grinned and grabbed the movie before cartwheeling over to the projector to get it set up. Jason rolled his eyes ( again ) and grabbed a pile of blankets with which to flop on the couch. Tim had already claimed the corner, tucked up between the armrest and the back of the couch and curled up to be as small as possible. Almost like he wanted them to forget he was there. 

Which, considering his reaction at dinner after Bruce had said yes, that might be the case… None of them understood why, but Tim had almost looked… Scared. Tried to say they could go ahead without him, that he had things to do. But he’d already admitted to finishing his homework and he hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse after they pointed that out. Though Jason also suspected that might have something to do with the fact that all three of them were staring at him and asking him to come along and participate in movie night. The kid never thought as clearly when he was being watched. 

Whatever the case was, Jason was still hopeful the kid would change his mind about movie nights after tonight. 

“Hey Tim?” Jason grinned welcomingly, holding up his blanket for the kid to crawl under for warmth and (if he wanted) snuggles. But Tim just looked up, realized what Jason was offering, and shook his head no. 

Jason frowned, knowing how cold it got in the theater room. “You sure…? We have more blankets, you can have your own, if you want?” He started reaching for his favorite single person size Wonder Woman blanket even as he asked, but froze when Tim just shook his head again. 

“No thank you,” the kid hurried to respond, shifting farther away and into the arm of the couch. “I’m not cold.”

Jason was quiet a minute, watching him before he nodded. Tim was curled up like he was cold, but it was more in an attempt to make himself small. He wasn’t shivering or pale (well, paler than normal), he didn’t have goosebumps and his lips remained totally red without a hint of blue or purple. So he really wasn’t cold. At least not yet. Maybe after he’d been in the coldest room of the house for a few minutes that might change. 

“Well…” Jason shrugged, setting his fluffy Wonder Woman blanket on the cushions between them to let it act as a bit of a barrier for him. “It’s right here if you change your mind.”

Tim nodded and almost smiled a little, relaxing slightly at the barrier and silent promise that he wouldn’t be snuggled or touched if he didn’t want it, but he didn’t take the blanket. Then the project hummed to life, shining the yellow of the main menu up on the screen as the music came on. Dick vaulted into his place on the couch a moment later—on the other side of Jason, thankfully, he would have heard his exchange with Tim—before draping another blanket around Jason’s shoulders and all but tying him up with it. And then snuggling him close. Jason pursed his lips in annoyance but didn’t fight it. Movie nights were snuggle time and as long as he left Jason’s arms free to eat popcorn, he would allow it. 

Bruce came in then with two big bowls of popcorn and Dick groaned, knowing he had to loosen up enough to leave Jason’s arms free now. Oh well, the blackhole of affection would live. 

They started the movie a minute later and the room was soon filled with the sounds of laughter and shouted advice to characters who never listened. 

Jason glanced over at Tim halfway through, expecting him to be asleep and cold by now, but the kid hadn’t moved. He didn’t look remotely tired and there were still no signs of chill anywhere on him. Which was… Odd. Either the kid was extremely warm blooded or the Drakes just kept their house colder than most people. Maybe both. 

It was probably both. 

Jason narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The Drakes seemed like the type of stingy rich people to skimp on the heating bill by keeping their house colder than was comfortable and pretending it was fine. Though Tim did seem rather warm blooded so that he didn’t mind. Which was a good thing too because if the kid was cold when they absolutely had the money to afford good heating, Jason was going to pay them a not so friendly visit. Or just sneak over to their house while it was empty and crank the heat so far up they’d be paying quadruple what they had been. Actually that wasn’t too bad an idea anyway…

Tim glanced up at him just then and Jason quickly turned his gaze back to the screen, stuffing more popcorn in his face. Right now, all he could do was leave the blanket well within Tim’s reach and let him take it if he wanted, but otherwise, the kid seemed fine. As odd as that may be.

Chapter Text

This was supposed to be a group project , why is the smart kid doing everything?

Steven’s words were still ringing through Tim’s head as he walked down the street. The smart kid. Like that was all Tim was. Like he hated him for it. Like Tim was trying to use it against him and screw the whole class over. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to. They were told to work on that question sheet together and no one else was doing anything. Tim didn’t mean to take the whole thing over, he just wanted to help. But then no one else was helping him. And then they blamed him for doing it all. And now they hated him. 

Well, not like now they hated him, they always hated him, they just hated him more for this. No one wanted a know-it-all kid hanging around where he didn’t belong. Tim knew that. He tried to shut up and blend in but sometimes it didn’t work. Sometimes the teacher called on him when no one else would get it right. He never raised his hand but he was called on anyway. Only when no one else could get it. 

And then they hated him more for being a show off and knowing the answer when no one else did. He didn’t even know how the teacher knew to call on him, it wasn’t like he ever raised his hand. He tried to fit in. He really did. It just didn’t work. 

Tim kicked a rock as he walked, watching as it bounced four times on the sidewalk before skipping off the curb and into the street. Only to be run over by a car. Not that anyone would notice or care. Just a meaningless bump under a tire. 

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. Sometimes he felt like the rock. He was skipping school, sure. There were still three more periods and lunch before school got out and he had just walked out. He’d be back before school got out and Alfred came to pick them but, but as long as that happened? No one was going to notice. Someone in the office might. Maybe a teacher would see the empty desk and look up who was supposed to be there and then the office would mark him as absent. And then that absence would show up on the report card to send home. Or at least, that was the idea. Tim would hack the records before that happened. Or just intercept the report card. His parents would never notice it missing anyway. He wasn’t even sure they knew what a report card was seeing as they’d just thrown it away on the rare occasions they actually managed to get close enough to the mail to touch it. Nothing Tim did made a single difference. No one cared. 

He kicked another rock as walked, watching that one too bounce into the street and get covered by the tire of a white van. Covered, mind you, but not run over. The tire stopped right on top of the rock. Just ahead of him. Funny, Tim didn’t remember a stop sign or street light on this road. Unless he’d walked farther than he thought. 

He paused and looked up, glancing around for a familiar street sign, when all at once it hit him. 

White van. 

Stopping just in front of him. 

Not again.

He didn’t even turn his head to look, he just bolted. But his obliviousness to his surroundings had already cost him precious seconds. Something latched around his middle, jerking him backwards and squeezing painfully tight as a much too big white cloth pressed over his entire face. Probably chloroform. 

He tried to hold his breath, but he couldn’t stop the gasps that slipped through as they jerked him toward what he assumed was the back doors of the van. Not that he could see with the cloth squeezed over his entire face. And he couldn’t tell if that was intentional or if these guys were just amateurs. 

Maybe both. 

He heard the van doors slam shut behind him as the ground rumbled with acceleration. 

They were moving. 

He struggled to keep his wits about him. He had to hold onto consciousness. 

They were moving…somewhere…

Probably some grimy warehouse somewhere… These guys seemed cliché enough to do that… He just needed to stay awake enough to know when they turned and what direction. Maybe then he could figure out where they were and figure out how to pass a message to…someone. He just needed to…stay awake…a little bit longer…

“--ake up, brat!”

Tim jolted as something slapped painfully across his face, only to wince more as the jolt pulled painfully at the ropes digging into his wrists. They… Tied him up already? When had…? 

Wait, he wasn’t moving anymore. He was sitting on a cold concrete floor, leaning against a poll with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold so tight over his eyes it was giving him a headache. Which meant he failed. He passed out. They got where they were going and there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do and no one was coming. He had to find a way out of here on his own. 

He bit his lip, testing out the ropes holding his arms behind him, but someone sneered from far too close. 

“Well it’s about time ya woke up. Number. Now.”

Number? What number? Did they want some security access code to DI? Or his parents’ bank account number? 

“I said now !” A first slammed into his cheek at the words and Tim barely kept himself from crying out, thankful for the blindfold at least to hide his tears of pain. Mom and Dad would not be happy if they found out he was crying. 

“Phone number,” a different voice helpfully supplied, at least an ounce of pity shining through the softer tones. Though Tim couldn’t bring himself to be comforted by it, noting it was at least several feet farther away than the guy who would rather hit him than get answers. “Ya millionaires don’ just give out yer personal phone numbers and callin’ the company will get the police involved, see? So unless ya want my friend to keep tryin’ ta get it out of ya, I suggest ya cooperate and give us yer parents’ number, yeah?”

Tim nodded slowly, biting his lip. It sounded simple when they said it like that, but Tim couldn’t just give out his parents’ “personal number”. It was more complicated than that. His parents were overseas. They got a new number for every country they went to and half the time Tim didn’t even know what country they were in, no less what number to reach them by. Giving his kidnappers his parents’ US number wouldn’t work either as that would only leave a message that wouldn’t be heard for at least another month. If they even cared to listen to a message at all. 

But there was one number he could give them. He didn’t want to bother him, but he was in the country, at least. He would answer. And then he would come. 

He would hate Tim for bothering him at work. He would hate Tim for being stupid enough to get kidnapped when he should have been at school. But at least Tim would be alive. 

He swallowed, knowing what this would cost him, but he gave them the number. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Truly, it was only Bruce’s extensive training in high pressure situations that stopped him from openly pounding his head on the huge oak table. Every time he thought the board at WE couldn’t get any more ridiculous and stupid, they proved him wrong. He could have gotten some actual sleep this morning. Or spent the day working on a case. Or built up the Watchtower’s security system. Or any other number of actually useful things he could be spending his time on. But instead he was sitting here listening to grown men and women ramble on about how the drinking fountains were a waste of space and money. The drinking fountains. Did they just… Forget there were actual human beings working in this company? Because last Bruce checked, humans needed water. But hey, maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just weird and everyone else had spontaneously evolved past needing to drink . 

He rubbed at his temples, trying to pretend his headache wasn’t induced by the selfish pricks surrounding him. How had they even gotten on this topic? The meeting today was supposed to be about the recent decrease in stock prices. Which shouldn’t have even needed to be met over, the stock had barely dropped at all and some rise and fall was normal. They couldn’t expect it to be a steady climb 24/7. And yet here they were, complaining like children who lost their favorite piece of candy. Bruce’s own sons had more maturity than the lot of them combined. 

Something rang from his pocket as the whole meeting froze, each board member shifting their gazes around the table, silently judging whoever dared to not silence their phone during such an important meeting. Let them judge, what were they going to do, make him burst into flames with their childish stares? 

“My apologies,” Bruce stated, pasting on his best fake sympathetic smile as he stood, phone in hand. “I need to take this, it’s my kids.” 

There were sighs and eye rolls around the table as Bruce stepped out the door, but he didn’t care. Prioritizing your family above work was encouraged at WE and Bruce wasn’t going to let anyone give him flack about it, just like he wouldn’t hesitate to give anyone of those board members a minute if their children called them. Some appreciated the gestures. Others never had kids and were judging him hardcore. Bruce didn’t care. Let them judge. 

He glanced down at the phone in his hands, curious whether it was Jason or Dick calling, but the number displayed on the screen wasn’t one he recognized. Which was slightly odd but not unheard of. He couldn’t get spam calls on this phone and he kept it exclusively for his sons, so if someone was calling under an unrecognized number, it probably only meant that one of them had lost or broken their phone and was calling his number by memory. 

He let out a soft chuckle at the memory of last time when that very thing had happened before he slid his finger across to screen to answer the call, fully prepared to deal with Jason in a fit of hysterics at ruining such an expensive piece of equipment. As if Jason would ever let Bruce spend more than the bare minimum on him anyway. 

“Hey chum, everything ok?” Chum, because Bruce wasn’t 100% whether it was Dick or Jason and that worked for either one. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, immediately setting Bruce on edge. It wasn’t like either of his kids to beat around the bush before even saying hello. Something could be wrong. Something could have happened, they could be upset or hurt or maybe there was a rogue attack at one of their schools or any number of other bad things that could have happened. He strained to hear anything on the other end of the line, any clue as to what they could be trying to tell him. But when he finally heard someone speak, it was so much worse. 

“We have yer son.” 

Bruce was gone in an instant, Batman taking over every rational thought. The speaker had a gruff voice. Likely modulated. Probably male. Accent that spoke of Crime Alley or the Bowery. Another second and Bruce was tracing the call at the same time as he was pulling up both Dick and Jason’s tracking data on a second phone. 

“Which one? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific.” Bruce chuckled, hating himself for even the thought of keeping up his Brucie Wayne persona in the face of his sons’ safety, but even as he said it he frowned more. Dick’s tracking data showed him at Gotham University, right in class where he should be and Jason’s showed him right in the middle of the cafeteria at his own school, perfect timing for lunch. 

“Which one–?!” The voice sounded agitated, aghast even. Which was odd, Bruce had had Jason for over a year now, all of Gotham and most of the world knew about him, how could they think he only had one son? “This is Jack Drake, ain’ it?!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

The world came to a screeching holt around him.

They had Tim.

Chapter Text

They had Tim.

Bruce froze, staring down at the tracking data displaying the location of his sons. That was the idea anyway. All his sons. Right? But Tim wasn’t his son. He was just the neighbor kid who was staying with them for a few weeks, Bruce hadn’t expected… 

He was stupid. Tim was still the son of Gotham’s elite, he was the Drake heir, related to old money, even if not quite as old as the Waynes. Tim was still a target. And Bruce had been incredibly stupid to overlook that. Even for a few weeks. 

“Yeah, this is Jack,” Bruce was quick to correct himself as he answered the thug on the other end of the line, speed walking toward the elevators. He needed to find Tim. He needed to find him but he couldn’t rely on a tracker. Not unless he could trace the call. He needed to keep the kidnappers on the phone as long as possible. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll give you anything. Money? Helicopter? Private jet? Backstage pass to meet the band of your choice?”

The thug on the other end of the line snorted, likely rolling their eyes at the billionaire. “We want money, stupid. One million. Cash. Alley behind the diner on 4th. One hour. Ya got that?”

“Money?” Bruce repeated slowly, trying to focus on tracking them. “Like… Cash?”

There was an annoyed grunt on the other side of the line. “Yes, stupid. Cash. Diner on 4th. And don’t call the cops!” 

The last sentence was spit into the phone, followed quickly by a harsh click. Bruce blinked down at the phone he had been using to trace the call and frowned. It had come from the Bowery. But that was all he had. 

Bruce swore under his breath and all but slammed the elevator button for the garage floor. He had to find the boy. He had to find him before it was too late. He pressed a few buttons on his phone, waiting as it rang once before being picked up. 

“Alfred,” he practically growled before the man had a chance to get a word in otherwise. “Call Dick and Jason. Tim’s been kidnapped.”

Alfred didn’t hesitate before answering, his tone already serious as he replied, “Right away, Master Bruce.” 

The line went dead a moment later and Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket. How had this even happened? Tim was supposed to be in school. Why didn’t anyone notice he was gone? Why didn’t anyone report it? Or maybe they had. Maybe they had tried to call Tim’s parents. In all their haste for whatever they needed to get out of town for, had they ever told Tim’s school they were leaving? Was the school aware Bruce was acting guardian? He’d have to remedy that later, for now, it was just important that he knew. He had no idea how Tim had gotten his number, but he was glad the boy had thought to give it to them. 

Now they just had to find him in time.

Bruce sprinted toward his car the second the elevator opened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason sped into the cave, slamming his kickstand down as he jumped off his bike and bolted up toward the Batcomputer. How could he have missed it? Tim had been kidnapped . Right off school property. Well… Maybe not right off school property, the kid was a total idiot when it came to self preservation so Jason wouldn’t put it past him to sneak off on his own. But still. He should have noticed Tim wasn’t at lunch. Not that Tim was normally at lunch—actually Jason had no idea where Tim normally disappeared to during the lunch hour… But he still should have noticed. He should have counted on Tim doing something like this and been looking for him. The kid had absolutely zero self preservation skills. 

Jason jumped up onto the main platform and tossed his helmet onto a table, earning himself a look from Alfred. Alfred didn’t like it when he illegally rode home from school alone but that was why they kept the smaller motorcycle hidden at his school—so he could come home in times of emergency. Emergency like an idiotic genius child getting kidnapped. 

Alfred pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, turning his attention back toward the monitors Bruce was working on. They were trying to pin down a location, following a white van through half of Gotham, but there were a blind few blocks right near the Bowery and from the looks of things, the van had disappeared into that. Well, that narrowed their search down to a few blocks at least. Definitely not ideal. But neither was a genius idiot child getting kidnapped without a tracking device. 

“Robin.” B finally addressed him without so much as looking his way. “Suit up.”

Jason was already halfway to the lockers before Bruce even finished talking. He stripped his school clothes and threw on his uniform, only glancing up once when Dick sped into the cave, parking his bike right beside Jason’s and flipping over to suit up beside him. They were both careful to make sure they had everything they needed before heading back up to the main platform. 

Bruce looked up when they got there, pulling on his cowl as he stood. 

“Nightwing.”

Dick stood straighter as Batman met his eyes. 

“Search every warehouse between 5th and 7th, move to houses and apartments if you don’t find anything. Robin–” B turned to face him even as Dick was already halfway to his bike. “--the kidnappers should be in the alley behind the diner on 4th in approximately fifteen minutes. Be there. Get a visual. Follow them back. Do not be seen .”

Jason nodded his understanding, grabbing his helmet and moving back to the deck to hitch a ride on the back of Dick’s bike. Because they didn’t want him driving himself unless absolutely necessary. 

“Hey B!” Dick called out as he slid his helmet over his head. “What are you doing?”

Batman grunted, looking back at the screens before answering. “Searching. Taking their inevitable call when Jack Drake doesn’t show up.”

Jason swallowed at Batman’s scowl. The kidnappers wouldn’t be happy when the ransom wasn’t paid. They were idiots to demand it in an hour, no one could get a million in cash and show up that fast, but they’d still be mad. And if they were mad they could take it out on Tim. Bruce had to keep them pacified. And stall for time. He’d stay back here and keep searching digitally as Dick and Jason searched the streets, then he’d take the call where it was quiet. No distractions. Nothing to give him away. Keep Tim safe at all costs. 

The kid was probably terrified. 

Chapter Text

“This is Jack Drake, ain’ it?!”

Pffft. Amatours . 

Tim rolled his eyes under his blindfold, confident they couldn’t see the movement or he’d probably get hit again. Though it might be worth it after that stroke of total idiocy. Step one of getting a wrong number after kidnapping a kid was don’t inform whoever’s on the other line who you’re trying to reach. You’d think this would have been simple. Now whoever was on the other end of that line knew that one Timothy Drake, the only son of Jack Drake, had been kidnapped. And whoever was on the other end of that line—assuming it was a wrong number—was not likely to be emotionally attached to Tim. Which means they weren’t going to listen to the kidnappers when they warned not to call the cops. Which meant the cops would be on their way. The exact opposite of what the kidnappers wanted. 

So, Tim would like to reiterate with as much disdain as possible, amatours . 

He’d never even kidnapped anyone and even he could figure this out, it shouldn’t be hard. 

“Yes, stupid. Cash. Diner on 4th. And don’t call the cops!” 

Tim rolled his eyes again at that last bit. They really needed to get their act together. This whole situation was shaping up to look more and more like a snatch and grab kind of kidnapping rather than anything remotely thought out. Which could either make Batman’s job easier or harder. Easier, in that they were total amateurs, but harder, in that they were unpredictable. If even they didn’t know what they were doing, Batman couldn’t predict their next move. He would try though, Tim was sure of that. Batman would come. Even if Tim didn’t mean anything to him, Batman would never let anyone die if he could do something about it. If nothing else, he’d call the police and help them find Tim. 

The thug hung up the phone with a muttered swear at “idiot millionaires”, followed by the sound of a phone being angrily thrown at a table. Well at least Batman knew now. He’d come. Tim just had to wait for him. Wait and…and dread. 

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself. Batman would find him and then he’d be safe . That was what he wanted, right? To come out of here alive, mostly unhurt. He would be safe and all his injuries would heal before his parents got home so they’d never know. They’d never be disappointed in him or yell at him. 

But Batman would know. Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfred… They all knew now. Even if Tim did manage to find a way out of this and rescue himself, it was too late to go back to school and pretend nothing had happened. Batman would find him and he’d yell at him because Tim was stupid to go off by himself like that and even more stupid to lose track of his surroundings and be caught off guard by total amatuers. He was better than that! He should have been better than that…

But he hadn’t been. And Batman would be upset with him. He’d lecture him on the dangers of wandering around alone as a helpless little kid and then he’d take him back to school and Tim would have to face that again and then he’d be picked up and taken back to Wayne Manor and then Bruce would yell at him some more because Bruce had to pretend he hadn’t already yelled at him and besides he’d still be mad. And then Dick and Jason would be disappointed or maybe they’d yell at him too and Alfred maybe wouldn’t yell but he’d give him a talking to and maybe… 

Maybe Tim made a mistake. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have called Bruce. 

Sure, Batman would find him. He’d be safe . He’d be alive and mostly unhurt. But maybe he’d rather the alternative… 

No, that was stupid. Mother would be so ashamed of him. What was he scared of, talking to people? It was just words, Batman would never hurt him. It was totally ridiculous for him to be scared of just words . 

Words and the disappointed looks on their faces. 

They wouldn’t want him around anymore. They wouldn’t want to have to take care of an idiot like Tim. A stupid little kid who ran away from school just because someone said something. Just because of a few words. They wouldn’t want to have to take care of him anymore after that. After he proved how big of a problem he was. How much he got in the way. 

Dad would be ashamed. 

Dad promised them he wouldn’t be a problem. And now look at him. They were having to drop work and school to rescue him. How much more of a problem could he be? 

They’d hate him after this. 

Maybe he never should have called Bruce. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re here,” Robin’s voice sounded through Nightwing’s coms, hushed and urgent, accompanied by the slight shifts as he settled into wherever he could watch but not be seen. 

This wasn’t good. Nightwing had only been able to drop Robin off at the Diner on 4th and then get himself to the first (empty) warehouse. And they were already there. He needed to find Tim and he needed to find him now. This was the most likely time Tim would be left alone. And finding him alone meant he could get the baby bird to safety without having to worry about it turning from a kidnapping to a hostage situation. 

Focus. There was another warehouse right next door, check that one next, then the one after. Make it fast. 

“ There’s only one guy, short, stalky, Caucasian, brown hair, wearing a beat up work jacket and jeans.” 

Robin continued to report to Batman’s grunt of confirmation as Nightwing jumped to the roof over, swinging down from the edge of the roof to sneak a look into the warehouse. No sign of a baby bird or any other goons. 

“ The caller used plurals,” Batman grunted. “ There’s at least two of them, Nightwing. ”

At least two, but only one showed up to the drop spot. Which meant at least one was still with Tim, wherever he was. That complicated things. 

“Copy. I’ll be careful.” 

He pulled up heat sensors, scanning the interior of his current warehouse. Still nothing. Totally empty. No baby bird, no second goon, cold as the Arctic. 

“ He’s mad, B. Knows no one’s here. Pulling out a phone.”

Batman grunted another affirmative and a moment later Brucie Wayne’s voice came over their com line. Well, not quite Brucie Wayne as he was trying to mimic Jack Drake, but it was close enough. 

“ I’m trying, I swear, I need more time!”

Find the next warehouse, there should be one just a couple buildings down. There, Nightwing could see it from where he was standing and took off toward it. 

“ I have fifty thousand right now, I’m trying to come up with the rest but I can’t just pull it out of the bank! It takes time! Please, don’t hurt him, I’ll double it! I’ll give you two million, just please don’t hurt him!”

Silence over the coms as the man responded and Nightwing flipped over the last building, landing on the roof of his next warehouse. 

“ Yes, yes, I’ll make it three million! Just… Just give me some sign he’s alive! I want to hear my son’s voice, please!” 

Silence again, then Batman grunted as they must have hung up. 

“ Robin, he should be headed back to wherever they’re keeping Tim, don’t lose him.”

Jason didn’t answer, likely too close to the suspect now to risk making noise, but they all knew he heard. 

There were no windows on this warehouse, but a roof access hatch. Nightwing picked the lock quickly and slipped inside, immediately met with the sounds of forklifts and barked orders. But nothing suspicious. No baby bird, none of the workers inside seemed remotely distracted, instead they all looked entirely bored, just waiting to go home. 

Normal warehouse then. 

Strike three, right? 

Nightwing swallowed, slipping back out onto the roof as Robin came back online. 

“ He’s headed West down Grover Street, passing 5th.”

Passing 5th. So not on 5th. He’d been searching the warehouses on 5th because they were the closest to the drop point, but Tim was farther out. On or near Grover Street was likely if that was the street he was taking. Unless they’d taken Tim to an apartment or something, there was only one warehouse near Grover between 6th and 7th. 

Nightwing bolted over the rooftops, racing to beat the man there. 

“ Hey mister–” Robin’s voice came over the coms in a hushed tone, his Crime Alley accent slipping through as he often let it when he was talking to people on the street. “ --tha guy right there–” a pause where whoever he was talking to grunted in barely concealed anger. “-- yeah him, he kidnapped a kid, pretend ta mug ‘im and play along.”

What was he doing…? 

Nightwing didn’t have time to wonder, he needed to make it to that warehouse as fast as possible. 

A grappling gun fired on the other end of the line, followed by a few seconds of silence and then a shuffle and shouting voices, “ Gimme yer money!” and “ Hand over yer wallet! ” and all that. Your typical mugging. Then another grappling line followed by Robin’s “ Hey! Leave him alone!” and then… Stage hits? Sounded almost like punches being thrown but Nightwing had heard his fair share of punches before and that was just barely off. Something crashed though, like a body hitting a trash can, and then Robin’s voice again, but clearer this time. Less white noises muddling the sound. 

“Wow, sorry abou’ that, mister! Sure lucky I found you!”

Oh. 

He was stalling him. Robin knew these streets as well as any of them, he’d know there was only one warehouse Tim could be in. And that Nightwing was trying to beat them man there. So he staged a fake mugging. The mugger plays along, pretends to be out cold, walks away unhurt, and now Robin has an excuse to talk to the guy without it being suspicious. Other than him being out in the daytime but trust Jason to act out a convincing lie to distract from that. 

Thank you and well done, Little Wing.

Robin kept talking in Dick’s ear, rambling on to the guy about how he was out in the middle of the day because Batman tried to tell him he couldn’t go out at all but Batman wasn’t going to come after him in the day so he could do whatever he wants and it really isn’t safe out here, one could get mugged and he really should let Robin walk him home unless there’s something he’s trying to hide? 

Dick smirked proudly as he jumped one last building, landing softly on the roof of the warehouse he was aiming for before bolting to the far side and swinging over the edge. He peeked into the window carefully, making sure the sun wasn’t on this side of the building and thus couldn’t cast his shadow through the sunbeam to give him away. 

There. 

One more goon inside, his back toward the window and tapping his fingers impatiently on the table he sat next to, looking totally bored. With his eyes on a little kid with messy black hair. He was blindfolded and tied to a pole off to the side of the room, with a split lip and an ugly bruise on his cheek, but otherwise he looked ok. He was at least still breathing. Didn’t look like there were any broken bones. And he was moving slightly, signaling he was awake and yet not crying in pain, which was a really good sign. Unless he was drugged. That would be a problem. 

“I have eyes on Tim. Only one hostile. Let’s not make it two.”

He could almost hear Jason smirk at his words as his childish rambling ended to be replaced a moment later with the sounds of a fist hitting a face. And then someone groaning in pain, then a body hit the ground followed quickly by the wizz of a zip tie. Or five. Because Jason was thorough when he was mad. The guy should count himself lucky it was only the zip ties that were getting the overkill treatment and not his face. 

Nightwing quietly unlatched the window and slid it open before slipping into the warehouse himself and silently dropping down to the floor. He could have sworn he saw Tim tense but that was impossible, right? He hadn’t made any noise… Maybe Tim just had a sixth sense about him. After some of the things the baby bird had done, Dick wouldn’t even put it past him. 

He crept closer to the goon, pulling out an escrima stick and knocking the guy out before he even knew there was anyone there. Anticlimactic, sure, he would have loved to see the fear in the man’s eyes after he hurt Nightwing’s baby bird, but Tim’s safety was more important than Dick’s satisfaction. Speaking of Tim, the kid didn’t even flinch at the sudden noise. He just sat there. Silent and still. That couldn’t be good…

Nightwing resisted the urge to run to him, instead zip tying the kidnapper first so there would be nothing that could possibly interrupt his attention on the kid. And then he flipped over to the baby bird as fast as possible, landing in front of him with a soft thud so as not to startle him. Again, not even the slightest flinch. Dick was starting to get really worried. He should be scared, right? Most kids were really jumpy when they were kidnapped, was Tim just super chill or was something wrong? 

He pulled off the blindfold, flashing his best signature Nightwing grin as he met the baby bird’s bright crystal blue eyes. Since when had his eyes been that bright? And shiny? And…

Oh. 

The blindfold was damp. 

Tim had been crying. He wasn’t scared, he was upset. Maybe that’s why he’d run away from school. 

“Hey!” Dick greeted cheerfully anyway, hoping to cheer him up because he was Nightwing. Kids liked Nightwing, they were always excited to meet him, and Tim didn’t know Nightwing was just Dick so Tim shouldn’t be the exception to that. 

Except apparently he was. Tim didn’t return the smile, he barely even met Dick’s eyes, staring at the blue bird insignia on his chest instead. 

“It’s ok, you’re safe, I’m gonna get you out of here, ok?” he pulled a knife as he spoke, carefully cutting the ropes off the baby bird’s wrists. He gave him a minute to pull his hands back to the front and rub the feeling back into them before Dick reached out to scoop him up, but Tim flinched and pulled back. Like usual, but Dick had been hoping it might be different with Nightwing. Nightwing was a hero and Tim was clearly in pain, whether emotional or physical or both. Nightwing usually helped with that. Kids didn’t usually feel like walking right after getting kidnapped. They usually liked being carried and hugged safe. But Tim just pulled away anyway and stood on his own. 

“Thank you—Nightwing,” Tim hesitated on that last part, almost like he didn’t know what to call him. 

Maybe Tim just didn’t get out much? His parents being as rich as they were, it was possible he barely left the house, after all, anything the Drakes needed could come to them without the danger of going out on the streets. 

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Tim stood straighter, hesitating a moment as if he expected Nightwing to say something. But all Dick could mumble was a quiet “ok” as he stepped back, giving Tim his space. 

Chapter Text

Batman pulled up to the warehouse just as the door opened and Tim walked out, followed by a confused looking Nightwing. If the brief conversation he’d heard over the coms had been any indicator, Tim was being as professional as normal. And apparently not scared. 

But acting fine didn’t mean you were actually fine. The boy might still be terrified. 

He wanted to run out and make sure his not-son was ok, press a wet washcloth to his clearly split lip and get some ice for the growing bruise, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Tim didn’t know who Batman was and they needed to keep it that way. Fussing over the boy would have to wait until they got home and he could do it as Bruce Wayne. 

Nightwing led him over to the Batmobile and Batman pressed the button to open the door. 

“--and Batman will take you home and then your family will take care of you, ok?”

Tim stiffened a little at Nightwing’s words but otherwise didn’t react. He seemed to hesitate just a moment before making up his mind and scrambling up into the car and looking around for the seatbelt. 

Bruce didn’t offer any help yet, instead watching his sons slip away while Tim was distracted. They were undoubtedly racing back to Nightwing’s bike so they could get back to the cave, change, and be waiting for Tim in the manor when Batman dropped him off. It’d be way too suspicious if no one was there waiting for him. That and Bruce was sure his sons were desperate to fuss over Tim just as much as he was. It gave him some comfort at least to know Tim would be in good hands while he would have to leave him. 

The boy found the seat belt a moment later—hidden behind several gadgets and accessories the vehicle held—and put it on before settling in. And staring straight ahead. 

Hn. Batman might not take people for rides in the Batmobile very often, but he was fairly sure the normal response was awe and wonder. Or at least exploration. He’d never met anyone who hadn’t gawked at least a little bit at the interior of the Batmobile the first time they saw it. 

But Tim didn’t. He didn’t seem remotely interested in anything around him. Which might speak of a deeper issue going on. Maybe this whole situation had caused worse trauma than they expected or maybe there were drugs in his system. Whatever the case was, he needed to get the boy home. That was the best place to help him with whatever was going on. 

Unfortunately, he still needed to stall long enough to let Dick and Jason beat them there. 

He put the car into gear and took off down the street, making sure to take the long way to turn around and stick to the backroads, both to avoid traffic (especially in the day time) and to waste a little more time. 

Tim kept quiet the whole time, totally still. Almost as if he were expecting something. Or scared. Scared of what, though? Was it possible he was scared of Batman? Did he think Batman was rescuing him just to kidnap him again? He couldn’t tell, but again, he needed to get the boy home. If he was scared, getting him home would ease those fears. 

Bruce was passing by Jason’s school when Tim finally perked up, looking out the window in what almost looked like confusion before spinning back around to Batman. 

“Where are we going?” 

Yeah, that was definitely confusion. But Nightwing had told the boy he was taking him home, why would he be confused? 

“Wayne Manor. That’s where you’re staying, right?”

“Well yes…sir.” Tim nodded mutely, turning back to watch at his school fading into the distance. “But school’s not out yet…” 

What? Did Tim really think Batman was taking him back to school after he’d been kidnapped ? How much emphasis did Jack and Janet put on academics to make the boy think it was more important than recovering from kidnapping ? 

He grunted, regretting it a moment later when Tim flinched. “You’ve been kidnapped. You should be with your—” Bruce had to cut himself off before he said family, they weren’t his family, not really. No matter how much the boy was weaseling his way into their hearts, he still had his own family and it wasn’t the residents of Wayne Manor. “--You should be with people who care about you.”

Tim looked about to say something, but seemed to change his mind, snapping his mouth shut and turning his attention back to the front of the vehicle. He almost looked… Scared. Was he scared? Was he that scared of Bruce? Or maybe Dick and Jason? The boy was an only child, maybe Dick and Jason were a little much for him sometimes. After all, being highly trained vigilantes didn’t stop them from being brothers who tackled each other to the floor. With Tim’s space issues it was entirely possible seeing brothers interact freaked him out. 

Batman softened his voice to something a little more gentle, peeling his eyes off the road just long enough to catch Tim’s attention. “Are you alright?”

The boy startled, reeling back slightly before he straightened. “Yes. They didn’t hurt me.”

“Hn.” The bruise and split lip would like to argue with that statement. But that wasn’t what Bruce had meant. “Good. But you seem upset.” Of course he seemed upset, the boy had just been kidnapped, how stupid of a question could he ask? But then again, Bruce didn’t want to put words into his mouth or imply he knew more than Tim was comfortable sharing. 

But did it count as being comfortable sharing it if Bruce was fishing for information about himself without Tim knowing it was Bruce he was talking to…? 

No, forget that, that was a confusing train of thought and it was going to make his head hurt, he just wanted to help the boy in whatever way he could. 

Tim bristled at the question though, setting his features into something unreadable as he continued to stare out the window. “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

Again, clearly not true.  

Bruce frowned more, but didn’t push it. Whatever Tim may or may not be scared of, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. It was possible Bruce would have better luck getting the boy to open up than Batman did. Regardless, he’d have to talk to Dick and Jason about toning down the rough housing in Tim’s presence, just in case. 

They pulled into the drive of Wayne Manor then, the gates opening like Alfred had been watching for them. Which, to be fair, he definitely had been. 

Dick and Jason burst through the front doors almost before the car stopped and Batman had to shoot them a warning look to get them to back off and give the boy some space before Bruce hit the button to open the passenger door. Tim stiffened slightly before he moved, but slipped out of the car with his head held high. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim swallowed as Bru—Batman closed the door behind him and sped off back down the drive. He hadn’t yelled at him while he’d been Batman, so he was probably waiting until he could do it as Bruce. He had to stay in character as Batman and Batman wouldn’t yell at little kids. Maybe. If anyone was going to be the exception though it was Tim so that didn’t make much sense. But maybe. 

Dick and Jason were standing there both looking about ready to burst. Of course they were, Tim was surprised they even held it in long enough to get home and change, he’d been so stupid . 

Dick finally couldn’t control himself and lunged forward as Tim flinched back, but Dick didn’t hit him and he didn’t yell. He just dropped to his knees in front of Tim and started checking him over for injury as the questions came faster than Tim could process them.

“Are you ok?! Did they hurt you!? Did they touch you?! You must have been so scared , I’m so sorry, Timmy , we’ll never let them hurt you again, we’ll teach you how to pick locks and slip out of ropes and—”

Jason nudged him with a pointed look that might have made Tim laugh if he wasn’t still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dick wasn’t yelling at him . He didn’t seem remotely upset. Scared, maybe? Why would he be scared? He was Nightwing, they’d found him in time, Tim was never in any real danger, but thanks to Tim, Dick was here and Jason was here and none of them were in school like they were supposed to be because Tim had been totally stupid and they should be mad at him, why weren’t they mad?

Maybe they thought Bruce had already yelled at him? And the yelling and lecture would come later when they realized Bruce hadn’t yelled at him yet? Yeah, that was probably it. 

“Are you hungry? You missed lunch, you gotta be hungry, Alfred has food inside, and he also has cookies and milk and hot chocolate and tea and…” Dick trailed off, realizing…something. Tim wasn’t sure what exactly it was he was realizing but whatever it was it made him pause. Just…waiting. 

“Are you hungry…?” He gave Tim a questioning look, prompting him to say something.

Oh. Right. Tim hadn’t said anything this whole time, Dick had been rambling on and he probably didn’t think Tim was listening. He nodded once, and Dick smiled. 

“You want to come inside and get food then?”

Tim nodded again and Dick grinned wider as he bounced up onto his feet and led the way inside. Tim followed him, Jason following behind him, almost looming like Bruce sometimes did. And really quiet. But Jason usually only got that quiet when he was thinking about revenge. Or was being really protective of some kid on the streets or something. Why would he be that quiet right now…? 

Alfred gave Tim a warm smile as they filed into the kitchen, pulling out plates and cups as he did. “Welcome home, Master Tim,” he offered, as if there was something to be welcomed home from and not… Tim having been kidnapped by his own stupid fault. 

Tim didn’t respond, instead just climbing up onto a barstool to wait as Jason handed him a bag of ice for his cheek. He considered asking Alfred if he wanted help, but the man already had the plates on the counter and half full of food by the time Tim’s manners even thought about it. Another minute and Alfred had his plate pushed in front of him, heaping full of cookies, vegetables, fried chicken, and mashed potatoes and gravy. He wasn’t sure if he should eat it though, Alfred was still filling the other two (mostly of snacks) for Dick and Jason. 

“Eat, Tim.” Jason pushed the dish closer til it was nearly off the other end of the counter. “We already had lunch. You’re the one who’s starving.”

Starving? Tim wasn’t starving, he had breakfast. That was already one meal today, how much more did he need? But Jason was looking at him like he expected him to be hungry and it would be rude to refuse. Especially after all the trouble he caused, he couldn’t add one more thing they felt like they had to deal with. Even if he were totally fine and they didn’t need to worry about his eating habits. He’d been feeding himself for two years now, he was fine. 

Jason was still giving him that look though and now Dick had noticed too. 

He sighed and started eating, little bites and slowly, but it was enough to satisfy the older boys. At least for now. 

“Tim!”

Tim had to stop himself from jumping as Bruce all but bolted in, slowing down just before he got to the counter Tim was sitting at. This was it. Dick and Jason hadn’t gotten after him for running away from school because they thought Batman had already done it. But Bruce knew. He knew and he was going to yell at Tim now, make sure he knew how stupid and irresponsible that was and how if he ever did it again the ransom wouldn’t be paid and all of that. 

He took a deep breath and respectfully met Bruce’s eyes as the man opened his mouth. 

“Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

Well that was weird. Dick already asked that, where was the lecture?

He nodded once, slowly, waiting. 

Bruce watched him for a moment before turning to Dick who just shrugged. 

“He doesn’t seem hurt besides the bruise. No needle pricks either. Just quiet.” 

Bruce nodded and Tim tensed. This had to be it then. He had no idea when Dick had checked him for needle pricks but now they knew he hadn’t been drugged. And they knew he wasn’t hurt. They had no reason to wait until he could understand what they were saying when they gave him that lecture. 

He just wished they’d do it already . 

“Good. Good…” Bruce turned back to him, before lowering his voice to something softer, more gentle. Close to his victim voice but better because it wasn’t Batman’s grovely voice, just his regular Bruce voice and actually sounded like he cared. And that was nice to pretend for a minute. “Would you mind if we took a blood sample, Tim? Just to make sure? It’s just a little needle poke, you’ll barely be able to feel it.” 

Tim shrugged and held out his arm. It wasn’t like he could say no anyway, they wanted to make sure he didn’t have any drugs in his system and they weren’t going to let it rest until they knew for sure. Saying no would just postpone it. And he was fairly sure Bruce already had the needle and whatever else he needed already on him. 

“Tim?” Bruce looked expectant and Tim paled. 

He’d forgotten something or did something wrong and now the yelling would start and—

“Shrugging’s not a yes, chum. I’m not touching you unless you say yes.”

Unless…? No, that couldn’t be right, Bruce meant until. He wasn't going to touch him until he said yes. He wasn’t going to accept no as an answer, this was for Tim’s own good and Tim didn’t get a say in it and he wasn’t allowed to say no and it would be disrespectful if he did say no and then Bruce would just get mad anyway and then he’d for sure start yelling and he was just standing there watching him and Tim was taking too long and why wasn’t he yelling? 

“Tim?” Bruce asked again, somehow quieter this time. He almost sounded concerned. But there was nothing to be concerned about, Tim wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t drugged, he’d just been stupid. Bruce couldn’t be concerned, he knew better than that. “You can say no, chum. We don’t have to.”

The room fell into silence, three sets of eyes staring holes into his soul. Three, thankfully, because Alfred wasn’t looking at him. But Bruce, Dick, and Jason all were. They were waiting. They were waiting for Tim to answer. 

He didn’t want to answer though. 

He didn’t really want to get poked with a needle right now but he didn’t have a good reason to stop them so he couldn’t say no. Right…? 

He swallowed and pulled his arm back to his side slowly, watching Bruce’s reaction carefully. He was going to start yelling. Or tell Tim to stop being stupid and scared of a little poke. There was no way he would just… Drop it. They needed a blood sample and there was no reason to say no besides that Tim didn’t want to. 

But Bruce didn’t yell at him. Or tell him he was being immature and stupid. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded. Like that was it. Like Tim could say no and that was it. That couldn’t be it. 

“Ok,” Bruce nodded with finality, completely dropping it. “Did they poke you with anything, Tim? Or make you eat anything?” 

Tim shook his head and went back to eating his food after a pointed look from Jason. 

“They didn’t make you swallow any pills? Or smell anything weird?”

Tim shook his head again, swallowing the bite in his mouth before he mumbled out half an answer. “Just chloroform.” He didn’t even know why he was mumbling, Mother would be so ashamed of him. There was nothing to be scared of, he could suck it up and be polite and speak clearly and respectfully, adults didn’t like it when a kid mumbled. 

But Bruce didn’t yell at him for it. He didn’t even seem bothered. He only nodded again, and offered Tim a small. “Alright, chum. I believe you.”

Chapter Text

“Alright chum, I believe you.”

Jason watched as Tim reeled back, staring at Bruce with his eyes blown wide. He was shell shocked. That wasn’t like him. Tim didn’t usually let things show, he bottled it all up and forced a gala worthy smile or sounded like a baby elite with his posh accent and head held high. He didn’t… Reel back in shock. Even if he did, it wasn’t that extreme and that obvious. Sure, his eyes might widen or he’d stare sometimes but this? This was a whole new level. 

Whatever Bruce had said, it shook him to his core. 

And Jason found himself left with a sudden urge to strangle Tim’s fancy rich parents. 

All Bruce had said was that he believed him. There was no reason Tim should be shocked at being believed unless he wasn’t normally. And all that about Tim not realizing he could say no? Because of course he couldn’t. Rich people didn’t like being told no. Of course that applied to their own kids. Mr. and Mrs. Drake likely didn’t even ask Tim what he wanted if it were something for his own good so Tim didn’t know how to say no. Jason could see it in the kid’s eyes, Tim knew they needed that blood sample but he was scared of the needle. Jason couldn’t blame him. Needles sucked. Tim didn’t know how to say no because his parents claimed they knew what was best. They never gave Tim the option of saying no if it was “for his own good.”

But believing your kid? Come on. Sure, kids were known to lie, Jason had known plenty of kids who couldn’t tell the truth to save their life, but not all of them. Most kids were honest to a fault. And besides, treating a kid like they were always lying? It didn’t help. Treating Tim like he couldn’t be right wouldn’t help anything . 

And besides that, Tim was a genius! How many seven-year-olds even knew what chloroform was? Wasn’t that proof enough that Tim knew what he was talking about? If he said he wasn’t drugged, he was probably right. Tim was a genius. 

…as long as he didn’t have to apply his brainpower to taking care of himself. In which case he was a total idiot . Like right now. When he was still staring shell shocked instead of eating his food. 

Jason sighed and cleared his throat. Tim peeled his eyes away from Bruce long enough to glance over at the noise, but he looked about as skittish as a pack of Jelly Beans in Dick’s presence. 

“Can you eat more?” He didn’t give him a look this time, or tell him that he needed to eat more, because Tim had already finished off the mashed potatoes and gravy and it was possible he wasn’t hungry after being kidnapped. Besides, he apparently needed experience in actually being asked things.  

He did still need food though, the kid was way too tiny for his age and he seemed to be the only one unaware of that fact. So Jason hoped he’d say yes. But he didn’t have to. 

The kid looked unsure, but he didn’t say anything. He cast a quick glance at Alfred like he was scared the butler would be offended Tim didn’t finish everything. Even though it was, frankly, a large plateful. No one expected Tim to finish it, they just hoped he’d eat more than what he had. 

Now that Jason was looking for it though? Now that he knew the kid couldn’t say no for the life of him? It couldn’t be more obvious that Tim didn’t want to eat anymore, he just didn’t know how to say it. 

Jason sighed and took the plate away, grabbing a Tupperware to save the food in as he went. Tim almost looked like he was going to protest, but he snapped his mouth closed and let his eyes fall to the now empty counter. At least he was still holding the bag of ice to his cheek. The kid clearly needed a distraction. 

Dick seemed to think so too as he piped up a moment later, totally ready for his role in “distract the traumatized kid after the traumatizing event.” Which Jason had to admit he was good at, Big Bird was a master of directing attention. 

“Hey, B! How about a movie night?” 

Movie night. Or afternoon, anyway. Because it involved delicious popcorn, cozy blankets, entertainment, and being surrounded by people who love you. Tim had seemed to really like the popcorn last time, or at least, he’d had three bowls full, so movie night was likely to get him eating some more, cozy blankets were good for trauma and shock even if the kid didn’t want hugs and cuddles, the entertainment would help distract, and having people around him without being the center of attention could really help the kid. Perfect, really. 

Bruce clearly agreed, nodding his head a moment later and smiling at Big Bird. “Sounds like a great idea, Dick.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick grinned as Shrek came on, opening with the ogre laughing at a fairy tale story and then implying he used the pages as toilet paper. Never failed to amuse him from the day he caught the implication. Plus, it was great foreshadowing for the way the rest of the movie was going to go. He shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth and laughed as All Star started playing through the speakers. 

Tim always seemed more relaxed when the people around him were, and even more relaxed when those people weren’t paying any attention to him. So Dick kept his eyes on the projector screen, making a show of having a good time and being engrossed in the movie. 

From his peripheral, it seemed to be working. 

Tim was curled up between the arm and the back of the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders—though not wrapped around him any—a bowl of popcorn beside him and another bowl of ice cream cradled in his lap. Rocky road ice cream as it was his favorite. Or at least, they thought it was. It was the one he always picked from the options they bought and he wouldn’t ever complain or say he liked anything different. So they were assuming it was his favorite. At least for now. 

He still hadn’t smiled since they brought him home, but then again he didn’t usually smile a whole lot anyway. Which Dick wanted to fix, but that was an issue for another time. Right now, he just needed help getting over the shock. 

Because he was in shock, right? He was barely speaking, he wasn’t doing anything without being told to first, and he seemed terrified. He’d even looked about to protest when the possibility of a movie night was suggested. He hadn’t, hadn’t dared to speak up, but Jason asked the baby bird what was wrong and he squeaked something about school not being over. 

He had to be in shock, why else would he fall back on habits like that? This wasn’t a normal day, he could miss a day of school. They all could. Dick, for one, was thrilled to get out of his French class and spend the day with his family instead. He already knew French. He didn’t need to take it. But he “needed to to graduate!” 

No thanks, family’s better. 

Still, the baby bird almost seemed panicked about missing school. Like he was causing them trouble or something. Maybe the kidnappers said something to him? It wouldn’t be the first time Dick had seen it happen. Jerks yelling at kids that their family wouldn’t come, they were unwanted, just a burden, etc. etc. Maybe Tim had been told he was a burden and couldn’t get that out of his head. It made sense. They just had to show him he wasn’t. He was wanted, and they didn’t mind taking a day or two off of school and work to show him that. 

There was movement from the corner of his eye and he turned, right as Jason lunged forward from his place against Dick’s side. Dick couldn’t quite see what had happened through Jason’s back, but there was a faint splatting sound. Jason stood up and turned toward Dick, a spoon in one hand and an inverted bowl of what once held rocky road ice cream now dripping onto the floor in the other, it became pretty obvious. Tim fell asleep and Jason barely caught the glass and metal before it could crash and wake him up. 

And the baby bird was absolutely adorable.

The sounds of Shrek yelling at fairytale creatures faded out to little more than a murmur in the background as Bruce turned down the volume and Jason went to take the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Dick moved to wrap Tim’s blanket around him better and Bruce brought a soft pillow over to slide between the kid and the armrest of the couch. Jason came back a moment later with several wet rags and Dick bent down to help him clean up the ice cream as well. The mess would probably stain but it’d be worse if they didn’t get to it now and Alfred could work miracles with carpet. 

Besides, they all knew Tim could use the sleep after the events of the day. 

Chapter Text

Jason frowned as he scanned the cafeteria. There were kids everywhere. Sitting at tables, chasing each other around, standing in line at the counter, shooting spitballs at their friends, you know, the usual. But there was a distinct lack of one particular too small, too pale, floofy haired, seven-year-old fourth grader. Where was the kid? 

It had only been a couple days since his kidnapping. They had insisted on not going to school the day after, deciding on a family outing to the zoo instead, but the kid had barely agreed. And by the second day, he looked absolutely horrified at the thought of missing school yet again. So they had resumed life as normal, both of them having to spend the school day collecting all the homework they’d need to catch up on over the weekend. 

Come to think of it, that might be where he was. If any of his teachers were being particularly difficult, he might be caught up with them instead of coming to the cafeteria for lunch. Even if he wasn’t, chances were decently good he was still somewhere between the cafeteria and his last class before lunch. Which seemed as good a place to start looking as any. 

Jason turned on his heel and made his way out of the cafeteria and down the hall to Ms. Brooks’ 4th grade math class. It wasn’t very far, only about a minute away from the lunch area, but there was no sign of the kid. Making it to his classroom held similar results. Which is to say, nothing. Ms. Brooks was there, but eating her own lunch at her desk as she graded papers. No sign of the kid. 

Which was odd. Where would he go during the lunch hour? Maybe he had some secret corner or something where he liked to hang out by himself while he ate? Jason sure hoped not, that would get lonely. The kid needed friends. Though Jason sort of doubted he had any as a 7-year-old in fourth grade. Not many ten and eleven-year-olds wanted to hang out with a kid that little. None of them wanted to hang out with a street rat either though so Jason was immune to caring about age. He just needed to find the kid. 

Maybe he liked eating outside? There were some pretty nice picnic tables out in the sun, could get nice on days like this. Tim didn’t like noise or people much anyway, it made sense if he didn’t want to eat in the deafeningly loud cafeteria filled with kids who probably wanted nothing to do with him. So Jason headed toward the exit to the side yard, keeping his eyes open for the kid as he went. 

There . 

He grinned as he caught sight of the kid through the glass doors of the exit. He was out by the picnic tables like Jason had guessed, lunch bag in hand and walking toward the garbage bins. Jason pulled his backpack straps tighter against his shoulders and jogged toward the doors, but stopped as Tim reached the bins. And put his lunch in them. 

Why would he…? 

Tim made his way to one of the picnic tables and sat down, pulling out his homework as he did. Because apparently he just wasn’t going to eat? He better have a good reason for that or this would be his second kidnapping in three days. 

Jason pushed through the door, trying not to let his worry show as he called out to the kid. Predictably, despite the early warning and intentionally gentle tone, Tim jumped, spinning around at his name and looking as guilty as a raccoon in a restaurant dumpster. He tried to play it off cool though, shuffling his homework as if it had been spread out like he’d just been eating. 

As if Jason wasn’t a detective… Though Tim didn’t know that so the kid got some grace. 

“H–hey, Jason,” Tim offered an awkward half wave, shrinking back at Jason’s deadpan expression. 

Jason sighed, forcing his features more relaxed so he wasn’t staring the kid down. Tim seemed to relax a little, but tensed up again as soon as Jason spoke. “There a reason you threw your lunch away?” 

He didn’t answer for several seconds, eyes shifting back to the trash can in panic. That’d be a no, then. And his nonchalance before confrontation suggested this was normal. Still, Jason needed to hear the kid say it himself. 

He waited, raising an eyebrow to prompt the kid to speak. It still took several moments, but Tim did eventually manage to get an answer out. 

“Uhh… Just…not hungry…” He dropped his head as he spoke, staring at his hands as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Normal?”

Tim fidgeted for another few moments, clearly deciding whether or not to lie, before nodding his head once. Which, between that and his coffee addiction, explained so much about the kid’s size. 

Jason sighed and started gathering the homework Tim had spread over the table. “Come on,” he all but ordered, leaving no room for debate. “I have something I want to show you.” 

‘I have something I want to show you,’ because ‘Let’s go, idiot, you’re getting kidnapped again,’ might be triggering. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce pulled his eyes away from his spreadsheets to the buzzing phone on the desk beside him. His personal phone. Not the one he kept exclusively for Dick and Jason (and now Tim because apparently the boy had the number and Bruce wasn’t complaining after what he’d used it for), but the one he gave out for general personal things. Like friends and business unrelated to WE. 

He flipped the phone over to see “Jason’s School” flashing across the screen as it continued to buzz in his hand. He hummed to himself as he answered, wondering what they would want at 1:17 in the afternoon. 

“Hello, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce nodded, even though he knew they couldn’t see it. “The one and only! What can I do for you?”

“This is Mrs. Thompson from Gotham Academy,” the woman was apparently ignoring the Brucie Wayne act, likely used to it. For which Bruce was glad. He remembered Mrs. Thompson from several visits he’d made to the school. She worked in administration and definitely had enough professionalism not to care about an airheaded playboy. “I was just calling to inform you that Jason Todd is absent from his fifth period class. Would you know where he is?” 

Bruce hummed noncommittally at the question, pulling up his sons’ tracking data for the second time this week. It popped up quickly, the red dot that meant Jason right next to the green one that now meant Tim, about a mile away from school. And in front of one of Jason’s favorite chili dog stands. Bruce couldn’t help the smile that crept into his features as he pieced together what must have happened. Not that it was hard to do. 

“Ah yes,” Bruce hummed into the phone by his ear, leaning back in his chair as he did. “I know where he is and he has my permission to be out of school for it. Perfectly excused absence.”

There was a pause and the click of a keyboard on the other end of the line as Mrs. Thompson fixed the entry in the system. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll make sure that’s excused for him.”

“Great!” he grinned before looking back down at the screen displaying Jason and Tim’s location. “One more thing…”

The clicking on the other end of the line stopped for a moment. “Yes, Mr. Wayne?”

“The school might not be aware of this, but Timothy Drake has been staying with us while he parents are out of town.”

There was silence for a moment followed by a couple clicks before Mrs. Thompson hummed. “We were not aware. Thank you for informing us, Mr. Wayne, we’ll have to confirm with Timothy’s parents before we add you to his list of approved contacts, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Odd. Jack and Janet must have really been in a hurry if they hadn’t informed the school. Odd, but not totally unheard of. Perhaps a family member had died overseas and the grief was messing with their ability to think clearly. Which, if that were the case, also explained why they hadn’t wanted to take Tim along. The boy was only seven and an overseas trip for a funeral of someone the boy might not remember could be too much. It made sense. 

“Wonderful!” he grinned into the phone, keeping up the Brucie Wayne act even while being polite. “Thank you for your help!”

“Anytime, Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Thompson offered politely before hanging up the phone. 

Bruce set the phone down again, casting another glance at his sons’ tracking data, now displaying them a few feet away from the chili dog stand, side by side against a wall. He smiled as he turned the phone off and resumed work on those spreadsheets. 

Chapter Text

Tim smiled to himself as he paid the cab driver and slipped out into the alley on 51st Ave. This was it. He hadn’t been able to sneak out for the last week, between Jason insisting he slept and Bruce checking on him to tuck him in and Dick just popping up whenever he least expected it, it had been a whole week since he’d been able to slip out and follow them on patrol. Even now, he hadn’t been able to stow away with them either as they insisted on making sure he was in bed before they left. So he went the old fashioned way and took a cab. But now… If his calculations were still accurate, they were using this patrol route tonight. Tim just wasn’t sure exactly who . They stuck to the same routes but they randomized who took which one or if they were going in teams. But one of them would be coming this way tonight. For sure. And Tim would be ready. 

He slung his camera over his shoulder and climbed up onto a dumpster to reach the fire escape, quickly scaling that to get to the roof of the building. From there, he didn’t have to go far to find his favorite gargoyle and set up camp behind it. A quick glance at his watch told him he was just in time. He liked to be early to make sure he didn’t miss anything, but just in time was still better than late. Any minute now unless they hit trouble. Any minute now… 

There. 

Tim grinned, bringing his camera up to peer through it as a blue and black bird flipped over rooftops, spying on the alleyways below him as he went. Just a little closer and Tim would have the perfect shot. And knowing Dick, the man would probably be flipping the entire way, guaranteeing an action shot no matter when he stepped in perfect range. Just a little farther and…

Nightwing stopped. 

Why was he stopping? 

His hand went up to his ear as his head tilted down. Listening to someone on the coms then. Tim could still see him through his sights, clicking a couple pictures just for good measure. Besides, that pose was cool in its own way. 

But Nightwing was also frowning. He said something to the person on the other end of the line, clearly confused. Or disbelieving. Then he pulled out a phone from his belt and placed a few taps on the screen. Then frowned more at whatever he saw. Then he turned, angling his body right toward Tim. And looked up. 

Tim froze. 

Nightwing was looking right at him . He couldn’t see him though, right? Tim was well hidden, the gargoyle he was hiding behind covered almost every bit of him and he was wearing all black anyway. There was no way Nightwing was actually seeing him, it was just coincidence he was looking in this direction, right? 

As long as Tim didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice anything. Movement drew attention. If he just stayed perfectly still and trusted he’d blend in with the darkness and architecture, there was no way Nightwing would see him. 

Tim stopped breathing as Nightwing made a run for the edge of the roof he was standing on and flipped over to the next. And the next and then the one Tim was on. Then he paused before walking straight toward him . 

“Tim?”

Tim would never breathe again. 

“Hey, Tim, you remember me from last week?”

Last week. The kidnapping. Because Dick had to justify why Nightwing knew Tim’s name. Tim just had to remember to call him Nightwing. 

Maybe if he didn’t move… Maybe Dick was just messing around or talking to someone in his ear and if Tim just stayed perfectly still… 

“Tiiimmmm…” Nightwing drew out the name, a sing song tone to his voice as Tim felt hands slip under his arms and hoist him out of his hiding spot before setting him down on the ground and sitting beside him. “What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous.”

Tim stared up at the whites of Dick’s mask that somehow still looked to be smiling despite the ominous feel. He was… definitely looking at Tim. Right at him. Right at…

Tim’s eyes widened as he followed Nightwing’s gaze to the camera in his hands. He scrambled to shove it back in his bag, hoping against all hope that Nightwing , the original Robin, Boy Wonder , apprentice and sidekick to the World’s Greatest Detective for years , couldn’t figure out what he was doing. 

Tim was so screwed. 

“Tim?” Nightwing asked again, the corners of his mouth still turned up in a smile but worry written all over the rest of his face. 

Why would he be worried?

“Tim, can you hear me?”

Of course he could, he was sitting right here, wasn’t he?

He nodded anyway and Dick breathed a sigh of relief. 

“What are you doing out here, kiddo? It’s dangerous. You should be asleep in your bed.”

Tim didn’t have an answer for that. He couldn’t. What was he supposed to say, that he had been following them around for the last year? 

“I… I’ll go back,” he mumbled out as he gathered his things and stood. “I’ll get a cab.”

Dick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, something in his expression looking mildly horrified. “No, Tim, that’s ok.” he sighed and stood as well, keeping his hand there, keeping track of Tim. Making sure he knew where he was so Tim couldn’t slip away. “I can take you home.”

Oh no. Tim really screwed up this time, he couldn’t ask Dick to take time out of patrolling to take Tim back. That was being a bother on a whole new level and Tim couldn’t possibly let him do that. He opened his mouth to protest but Dick cut him off before he could start. 

“If you say one thing about being a bother or not wanting to inconvenience me, so help me I’ll…” He paused, thinking, and Tim paled. “I’ll stop at Bat Burger and buy you a second dinner.”

Tim’s eyes widened at the threat, playing it over in his head. If he had to stop somewhere it would take him more time. Make Tim even more of a problem. And besides that, Tim really didn’t think he could eat a whole nother dinner. 

Nightwing grinned triumphantly at Tim’s silence and took his bag from him as he led him to the fire escape. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s just get you home.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick sighed as he watched Tim disappear into the manor, Alfred promising a cup of hot chocolate before sending him to bed for what Dick hoped would be the last time tonight. What did the baby bird have against sleep? And apparently safety too if he was sneaking out at night to take photos. Dick knew he had a hobby but did he have to do it at night? Were the lights and crime of Gotham really worth risking his life over?

Dick shook his head in defeat and revved his bike, making his way back out to patrol as Jason’s voice came through his coms. 

“Is he home? Is he safe? Why was he out there? What was he doing?”

Dick sighed again, laughing softly to himself at his little brother. “Yes, he’s home. Agent A’s taking care of him. He’s perfectly fine, and as best I can tell he was taking pictures. Tried to hide it from me after getting over the shock of being discovered.”

“Taking—?” Jason’s voice sounded strained, as if he were trying not to scream into the night. “Doesn’t he know it’s dangerous?! He got kidnapped just last week!”

Dick didn’t have an answer. He’d be asking himself the same question ever since Alfred told him the baby bird’s tracker had somehow made its way to the middle of the city and his bed was empty. They’d even made sure he got into his PJs and under his covers and everything. Apparently that wasn’t enough to make sure he slept. 

“No idea, Little Wing,” Dick shook his head even though Jason couldn’t see it. “If he didn’t know it was dangerous before, he does now. And I’m sure he’ll get that even more so when you talk to him about it in the morning.”

Jason huffed at the comment, but didn’t deny it. Dick had no doubt Tim would be bombarded with lectures on self care and the dangers of the city come morning, but for now the baby bird would be safe. As long as he actually went to sleep. If not, Jason would probably add another lecture on proper amounts of caffeine intake and the importance of sleep for brain development. 

Dick couldn’t help a small laugh at the thought. Jason Todd, twelve years old and mother of one. 

Silence fell over the coms for several minutes as Dick weaved his way through traffic. He was nearly back on track to get back to patrol when Bruce grunted over the line, the usual sign he had something to say but wasn’t quite sure yet how to say it. 

“How many times…” Bruce started slowly, thinking through his words before he said them. “How many times do you think this has happened?”

Dick paused as he parked his bike, frowning at the implications of Bruce’s words. The kid was good. He waited until the house was quiet and they were convinced he was sleeping. What were the chances that they never would have noticed without that tracker Bruce snuck into his shoes? And if they never would have noticed, if the baby bird could have made it all the way out there and back, how many times had it happened before? How many times had he snuck out without them having a clue about it? 

And sure, it had turned out ok this time and however many other times it may have happened it must have turned out at least mostly ok because he made it home, but what if it didn’t? What if he snuck out and they didn’t notice until morning? The kid wasn’t trained like they were. He wasn’t even trained like Jason and Dick still worried about Little Wing all the time, what if something…? Anything could have…

They couldn’t just let this keep happening.

None of them said anything for several stretching moments before Jason finally broke the silence with the sentiment they were probably all thinking. 

“I’m putting more trackers in his stuff.”

Chapter Text

“--and then he keeps going back to France to smuggle people out of the country, but he has to pretend to be a total idiot to keep them from figuring out his secret identity.”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement as Robin kept talking. Something about the latest book he’d read but it could get difficult to follow his words around the bites of chili dog in the boy’s mouth. It had been a slow night so far and Robin had been hungry, so they decided to take a quick break. Besides, between his early starvation and current strenuous extracurriculars—and that on top of being a growing 12-year-old boy—Jason could use all the calories Bruce and Alfred pushed in him. 

“All I’m saying is I think he’s a lot like you.”

Wait, what? 

Bruce probably should have been paying more attention than he had been… He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Alfred cut him off over the com line. 

“Sir, there appears to be a situation down on the docs.”  

He’d have to ask Jason about the book later when they got home, maybe Bruce could find out which book it was and read it in a couple days so that they could really talk about it together. For now though, they needed to focus on the mission. Robin was already wadding up his chili dog wrapper and leaping to his feet. 

“Acknowledged.”

Batman waited half a moment longer for Robin to toss his wrapper over the edge of the roof into an open dumpster and swallow the bite in his mouth (Bruce wasn’t about to have a choking Robin on his hands because he hadn’t given the boy time to finish) before he fired off a grapple line. They weren’t far from the docs. Only a couple blocks away. It would barely take them any time at all to swing over and besides, Jason loved the city from the rooftops. It made him feel more at home than riding in the Batmobile ever could. And Bruce never wanted to rob him of those moments if he didn’t need to. 

And it gave Alfred time to talk them through the situation. 

“It seems a weapons deal is taking place. We must have missed the warning signs.”

Batman grunted his acknowledgement, mentally running over his list of possible unaccounted for targets who could be involved tonight. There were three different gangs he didn’t currently have eyes on and nine other individuals who hadn’t been with the accounted for gangs when he got his information. Plus any number of new players he didn’t yet know about. He’d have to wait until they got there to know for sure. 

“Friendly?”

Alfred hummed in contemplation before answering. “There doesn’t appear to be any fighting yet, sir.”

Yet. Because things like this could change with the direction of the wind. They’d have to be careful. 

Batman grunted, swinging passed the final few buildings, before landing silently just behind their final warehouse before the docs. Robin landed beside him half a moment later and they both made their way around the building. 

There. Just in front of the open doors of the warehouse, weapons deal going down. Several crates littered the interior of the warehouse while nine hostiles stood around debating the price. Shouldn’t be too hard. Batman signaled Robin to take the roof before he slipped inside through a side door for a better look and a better tactical position. Just a few more feet and he’d have the perfect view of the leader’s face. A woman he didn’t recognize. She must be a new player.

“Agent A…”

Alfred hummed in his ear, answering his unasked question a moment later. “Facial recognition is not picking anything up, sir.”

Hn. She must be newer than he thought. Or she could be wearing some sort of latex mask. Which was likely if she didn’t want to be recognized yet. Smart. 

“Excuse me, sir,” Alfred’s voice came through his com line again, this time less focused and more amused. Which was difficult to tell since it was Alfred, and his vocal inflections were more hidden than the Dark Knight himself, but Bruce had been raised by and living with the man for nearly two decades now. He could tell. “You’ll have to make do without me for a few minutes, it appears Master Tim has ventured from his bed again.”

Ah. That explained it. There was a click as Alfred turned his line off and Bruce’s head was filled with the sound of Jason’s incredulous spluttering. Tim would be fine. Alfred would track down whatever dark room he decided to use for his photo development again and send the boy back to bed. Alfred was more than capable. Fortunately, Jason trusted that. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what Jason was upset about. 

“That little…!” 

Time to end this fight before Robin gave them away. 

Batman had three of the least threatening goons unconscious before Robin even touched down, the younger vigilante quickly landing on the head of a fourth goon as he continued his rant. Now both out loud and over the com line. 

“I put him to bed!”

Robin’s man hit the ground hard, blood dripping from his nose as Batman sent another to join him. 

“I made sure he was asleep!”  

Robin dodged gunfire, luring one man to hit another in the leg as he aimed for the shorter and far too quickly moving target. 

“I measured his breathing!!”

Batman added two more goons to the unconscious pile.

“I took his pulse!!”

The leader pulled a gun and started firing at Batman, but Robin dropped her before she even had time to consider the screaming, brightly dressed child a threat. Definitely new to Gotham. 

“So how?!” Jason turned to fully face Bruce now, throwing his hands in the air as he did. “HOW IS HE STILL AWAKE?!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim squinted through the bright lights of his laptop screen, glaring as the glow just seemed to get stronger to spite him. He’d tried turning on dark mode, he’d tried turning the brightness down to its lowest setting, he’d even tried draping a handkerchief over the screen, but that last option served only to stop him from clearly making out the words he typed. Nothing worked. The pitch blackness of the room clashed too badly with the glow of his work. But he couldn’t turn the lights on. They’d catch him if he turned the lights on. 

His head throbbed the longer he stared. And he could barely keep his eyes open. But he needed to get this done. Nightwing had caught him spying on them three nights ago. And he hadn’t been able to get that out of his head. They knew. Somehow, they knew. Tim had laid awake for half the night trying to figure it out after Dick brought him home. And he’d stayed up all night last night. Jason tried to make sure he was asleep tonight, but Tim was a good actor. And now he had more time to work. 

But he still couldn’t figure it out. 

Someone had told Nightwing where to look. Tim remembered that. He’d been talking on the coms right before he looked directly at him. Which left two options. Either they’d somehow snuck a tracker on him without him noticing, or Alfred was psychic. 

One of the two, it had to be. He just had to figure it out. He had to find proof. But hacking into the batcave computer wasn’t nearly as easy as hacking the news stations or his school. He just had to find the proof, though… He just had to get in…get the proof…and…

He jerked awake, blinking at the lights of his computer screen for the three hundredth time the last couple days. 

He couldn’t do this. 

Not alone. 

He needed coffee. 

His feet were moving before he had time to think about where he was going, his favorite coffee mug held close to his chest. He just needed the caffeine, then he could get back to work and get the proof he needed. He just needed to know for sure. He couldn’t risk them catching him again. 

He yawned as the floor shifted from fluffy carpet to cold stone under his bare feet. Very cold. He should have grabbed socks. Or a blanket. There was a really nice fluffy Wonder Woman blanket that showed up on his bed last week. He could have grabbed that. Very soft and very warm. It would be wonderful right about now. Coffee would warm him up though. He just needed to get to it. 

He kept walking, his feet silent compared to the pounding in his head. There. The sweet, glorious, dramatically all black coffeemaker. 

Tim pressed the button for it to automatically start brewing as voices drowned in the background. 

Voices… Weird… No one was home, who could be talking? 

“...have to make do…”

Yes. That’s what Tim was doing, thank you very much. He just needed his coffee. 

“...appears Master Tim has ventured from his bed again.”

Heh. What a loser. Someone was about to get busted. Good thing Tim wasn’t stupid enough to get caught when he snuck out of bed. This “Mast’rim” guy was going to have to learn to be sneakier. 

The coffee maker dinged and Tim practically lunged for it, filling his mug with the steaming goodness as quickly as he could. Too bad his mug didn’t hold very much. It was going to take more than that to keep him awake tonight. His mug was already full though… But there was more coffee in the pot, he just needed to get it upstairs somehow. Couldn’t take the whole pot or they’d catch him, but he could take the coffee. 

Tim smiled to himself and took the coffee pot in both hands, tipping it up and drinking half of what was left in it. It was a little too hot, but it helped warm him up which was nice. And besides that, now he had enough coffee to keep him up for a little longer. Just had to take his steaming mug and get back up to his room before they caught him. No one was home, it would be easy. 

Someone was talking as he turned for the stairs, but he didn’t pay much attention. Sounded like they were talking to that “Mast’rim” guy anyway. That didn’t have anything to do with him and he wasn’t about to get caught out of bed because he was paying attention to some other kid who got caught. He had better things to be doing. 

“Timothy Jackson Drake.”

Tim froze, his whole body going rigid. That was his name. Someone was talking to him . And that meant someone had caught him out of bed. That meant someone had caught him sneaking coffee . And that meant… 

He shivered as the chill from the stone floor under his feet worked its way back into his body despite the hot coffee in his stomach. The stone floor. The batcave. Someone had caught him in the batcave.

Tim turned around slowly, eyes wide, terrified of what he might see. No one had been home, he’d been sure of it. Batman and Robin had been seen stopping a robbery not one hour ago and Nightwing was looking into a kidnapping. Tim heard Bruce hint to that in code over dinner. So who could possibly…? 

Tim stopped, frozen to the spot as he met Alfred’s unreadable expression. Alfred. Tim forgot about Alfred. He was in so much trouble. Alfred would tell Bruce and then they’d lock him up or steal his memories or something to make sure he could never tell anyone about their secret and then his parents would be upset when they realized he was gone and they’d blame the Waynes because they left Tim with the Waynes and now he was gone because he was locked in the batcave and…and Alfred was smiling? Why was Alfred smiling?!

“How long have you known, lad?”

Tim didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even move. Alfred just hummed though, apparently unbothered. 

“Did you figure it out when you started staying with us?”

No. No he didn’t. He could shake his head, right? Tim tried it, forcing his head side to side as Alfred nodded in what almost looked like pride… That couldn’t be right.

“Did you figure it out all by yourself?”

Tim nodded quickly, hoping against all hope this was just a dream induced by sleep deprivation and too much coffee. Tim had read about those kinds of things. 

“Well, this is quite the situation, isn’t it, Master Tim?”

Tim nodded again and briefly realized he wasn’t breathing. That wasn’t good. He needed to breathe, right? Deep breath in. Then out. Then in again. 

“Well, I propose a deal,” Alfred hummed, moving forward to take Tim’s mug from his hand. He couldn’t fight it. He was already in too much trouble. “I’ll help you sneak down here during patrol and you can help me on the coms, if –”

Tim stopped breathing all over again. There was no way this was true. Help Alfred during patrol? Wasn’t he mad? And what was if?

“If you eat three meals a day, get eight hours of sleep each night, and give up coffee.”

Tim’s mouth dropped open. That was so unfair. He didn’t even like eating! Three meals a day?! And eight whole hours of sleep every night ?! How was he supposed to do that?!

“Or,” Alfred shrugged and moved back to the batcomputer, hovering his hand over a button that looked suspiciously like a radio. “If you don’t like that deal, I could call Master Bruce right now and tell him you’re here.”

“Deal!” Tim’s eyes went wide in horror, his mouth moving before he could even think to stop it or consider the word he was shouting through the cave. He just… He just agreed… To three meals a day, eight hours of sleep a night, and no more coffee . His favorite mug sat on the batcomputer desk, almost haunting him. He needed to find a way out of this. But then again, if going along meant Alfred’s sworn secrecy? Then… Then maybe this deal wouldn’t be so bad. At least he wasn’t in trouble. 

“Good,” Alfred smiled before walking over to lead Tim back toward the stairs. “Now let’s get you back to bed.”

Right. Bed. Now. Because he agreed. And it was nighttime. Eight hours. 

Tim didn’t know how he would survive. 

Chapter Text

Tim was being suspicious. 

Not that that was unusual, of course, the kid was always doing something suspicious, whether that was sneaking off to end up on a rooftop in downtown Gotham, developing pictures in the wine cellar, or smelling like coffee when there shouldn’t be any way for the kid to get his hands on the stuff. One way or another, the kid was always being suspicious. At this point it had become so normal that Jason had nearly forgotten about it. Tim was always being suspicious. Somehow. This was just a given fact of life. 

But today was different. 

Today he was being good . 

And Jason had no idea why. 

They were sitting at dinner, currently. Bruce asked how Dick’s day at college had been and Dick answered, launching himself into a wild tale about all things he did today. Like scaling the side of a building to make it to his class before his teacher, dancing with some girl in the rain, lighting a bonfire as a chemical experiment… And so on. It was likely all made up, especially seeing as it hadn’t rained today, but Tim seemed to be enjoying the stories so Jason couldn’t complain. That was probably why Dick was being so dramatic about it anyway. Tim needed to laugh once in a while. 

But that wasn’t the problem. 

Tim was actually eating. 

He was actually eating his dinner and he’d eaten lunch at school today and he’d gotten to the kitchen in time for breakfast before school and he had actually been asleep when Jason checked on him after patrol last night. Or at least… Jason was mostly positive he was asleep… But the kid had a quiet little snore when he was actually asleep and so far it looked like he didn’t know that. And therefor couldn’t fake it. So Jason was 98% sure that the kid had actually been asleep. And then! On top of everything else, Jason hadn’t caught the kid smelling like coffee even once today. Which, all things considered, was really suspicious. 

And Jason needed to get to the bottom of it. 

At some point, Dick concluded his story about a vampire and a mugger he watched fall in love on the way home from school and then he excused himself to go do homework. Bruce finished a minute later and cleared his place, Tim jumping up behind him to do the same. Which meant this was it. Whatever Tim was hiding, he’d lead Jason to it now. He just had to follow the kid. He was Robin, how hard could it be? 

He stood up and gathered his dishes then moved into the kitchen with his load. And there was the kid, standing at the kitchen sink, disposing of his own dishes. Easy to follow. Jason just had to put his plate and cup down and turn around and…

And the kid was gone. 

What.

He hadn’t heard anything, the kitchen door was too far away to get to that fast, and the only other exits led to the pantry and the back yard of the manor. There was absolutely no way he could have just… So how did he… 

He was Tim, who was Jason even kidding? Tim was a baby ghost and at least now he was being suspicious again. He just had to find the kid. There were about seven trackers on him now, anyway, so it shouldn’t be hard. Jason just had to get down to the cave to pull up the data. Which was easy, it just took time. Time during which Tim could end up in downtown Gotham if they weren’t careful. 

….he might already be there. 

Jason sighed and bolted toward the study, then through the grandfather clock and down into the cave. Thankfully, neither Bruce or Dick were down there yet or he’d have to explain how he’d lost the resident seven year old. While in the same room as him… 

Not the time to focus on that, he just had to sign in and pull up the tracking data and… 

And Tim was in his room. 

At his desk. 

Swinging his legs back and forth under the chair if the trackers in his shoes were any indication. And hunched over his desk if the trackers on his collar and shoulder blade meant anything. And… And he was writing. By hand. On paper. If the steady back and forth of the tracker Jason had convinced him was a fashionable new bracelet was at all accurate. 

And all that together meant… Homework. 

The kid was doing his homework. 

…or plotting world domination. Which at this point wouldn’t even come as a surprise. Actually it sounded more likely than homework. But quietly sitting at his desk doing anything that didn’t involve his laptop and business spreadsheets seemed suspicious at this point. Which meant the kid was right back to being suspicious. And Jason really needed to figure out why. 

He pursed his lips, watching as Tim’s trackers kept moving, the kid fidgeting several times as he worked but for the most part he seemed… Focused. Determined, even. He usually fidgeted more than that. Which was, again, suspicious. Now that Jason thought about it, Tim had seemed more focused doing his homework at school today too. He was getting it done for something . Jason just had to figure out what . 

There. 

Jason pulled himself out of his thoughts and snapped his focus back toward the screen as Tim started moving. He was standing up from his chair. And it looked like… Gathering his homework from his desk and stuffing it into what was probably his backpack on the floor by his bed. And then… Then he left the room. 

This was it. Whatever Tim was plotting, whatever he was planning, this had to be it.

He was moving down the hall now, then down the stairs and toward… The kitchen. The kid was stopping in the kitchen. 

Jason hadn’t thought to put any bugs on the kid yet so there was only one way to find out why. 

He bolted out of the batcomputer chair and up the stairs as fast as he could, only slowing down when he got to the dining room a few moments later. He pressed himself against the wall where he’d be out of sight and crept toward the arch to the kitchen. Really, it had only been a few moments since Tim had made it here so whatever he was doing, he couldn’t be done yet. Right? 

“No, Master Tim,” Alfred’s voice made its way into the dining room, his tone firm but kind, as Alfred always was. “It is a school night, and you need to be in bed by 11:00 to get a full eight hours’ sleep before school tomorrow.”

Well that was… Cryptic. 

Tim started to protest something but Alfred cut him off before he could say anything useful to Jason’s mystery. 

“No, Sir, that is final.”

The room went quiet for a moment as something in Alfred’s tone went almost… Threatening. Like there was some deeper threat that the words themselves didn’t quite convey. Jason could hear Tim’s frustrated breathing, but the kid apparently knew whatever he was trying to get, it wouldn’t be helped by fighting. Because no one could fight Alfred.

“Now then,” Alfred continued, apparently satisfied with whatever lack of protest Tim was giving. “I have a pan of cookies coming out of the oven in two minutes. Perhaps you would like to take a seat at the island and have some before bed?”

Tim must have agreed as a moment later something scraped against the floor and Tim grunted as he climbed up onto the island stool. 

“And perhaps,” Alfred continued, his voice suddenly pointed toward the door instead of where Tim must be sitting. “Master Jason would like to join us?”

…whoops. 

Really, Jason should have known better than trying to spy on Alfred. But at least he got cookies out of the deal. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was pouting again. Dick knew that look. He’d grown quite accustomed to it over the last few weeks. It usually meant “Tim’s doing something I can’t stop.” or sometimes “Tim’s doing something I can’t explain.” or sometimes both. Tonight seemed like a both kind of night. Tim hadn’t done anything particularly bad, anyway. Though the baby bird could find a way to get into trouble without Dick having any idea about it so really, who even knew anymore? 

Dick hummed and made his way across the cave to lean over the chair of the batcomputer where Jason was sitting. The screen displayed some kind of tracking data which, based on Jason’s current mood, was probably Tim’s. A quick look at the corner of the screen confirmed that, though the baby bird appeared to be in his room. In his bed. Asleep. 

“So what’d he do this time?” 

And just like that, six little words, and Jason had spun around to face him, already exasperated. 

“Nothing!” 

Ok, that was unexpected. 

Dick held back a laugh and forced himself to nod, prodding for more.

“The kid hasn’t done anything! That’s just it! He’s eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner, done his homework, behaved at school, and now he’s asleep!” Jason counted off on his fingers as he got up and paced the floor of the cave. “He’s actually asleep, Dick! What happened to the baby coffee addict?! What happened to the sleep deprived zombie?!”

Ok, never mind on the trying-not-to-laugh thing. Well, Dick was still trying, he was just failing. 

Jason quickly shot him a glare before shaking his head and continuing his rant over the cave floor. 

“I checked on him and everything! And he’s not moving! He hasn’t moved for an hour! He’s actually asleep! This isn’t like him, he’s up to something!”

Dick choked, forcing down another laugh at the thought. Tim, up to something, even while he slept. Dick could see it now, Batman’s next great villain, The Sleepwalker. 

“Maybe…” He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he wasn’t sure he was doing a particularly good job of it. “Have you considered what you’ve been doing with him may have paid off? Maybe he’s actually listening to you and taking care of himself?”

Jason stopped in his tracks and spun toward his older brother with a look that Dick could only describe as something between “deranged” and “mother of five”. 

“ No,” Jason practically hissed. “Have you met the kid? That is the last thing he would do. I’m telling you, Dick, he’s up to something.”  

Personally, Dick would like to know exactly what the baby bird could be up to while laying horizontal and unconscious, but knowing Tim, The Sleepwalker might not actually be such a joke. Maybe Jason was right. And then again, maybe Jason was taking this whole thing just a little too seriously. 

“Well,” Dick shrugged and stood, starting a couple stretches as he did. “He’s asleep right now, isn’t he?”

Jason nodded, following his brother’s lead and starting a few stretches of his own. Which would hopefully also help with his breathing. Stretching always helped Dick calm down, anyway. 

“So he’s asleep. And there’s nothing we can do about figuring out what he’s up to while he’s asleep. So how about we focus on patrol, grab some chili dogs while B isn’t looking, and get home in time for school night bedtime?”

Jason sighed, taking a deep breath and thinking it over before he answered. 

“Fine. But the chili dogs better be from Eddie’s stand on 7th Street.”

Dick grinned triumphantly and flipped over to his bike. 

“You got it!”

Chapter Text

The kid snored when he slept. When he actually slept, that is. Not his fake sleeping where he had somehow figured out how to calm both his breathing and his heart rate, no, actual sleep. When he was good and truly passed out, he snored. Just the tiniest little bit. Barely enough to fill the silent room with the nearly silent sound, but there nonetheless. Jason might even go so far as to say it was cute. Might, mind you. Might . If it wasn’t connected to the utter ball of suspicious trouble that was one Timothy Jackson Drake. 

It’d been two whole days since Tim first started acting suspicious and nothing had come of it yet. Tim hadn’t enacted his plot for world domination, he hadn’t snuck out again, he hadn’t been kidnapped, none of the trackers he wore ever picked up anything out of what would be normal for a normal kid that wasn’t Tim. Nothing had happened. Nothing. And now the kid was asleep again. 

On a Friday night, no less. He had gone to bed almost right after dinner. Jason had triple checked his tracking info. He got up from the table, went to do his homework, then went to the kitchen, talked to Alfred for half a minute, ate a snack of cookies and milk and then went straight to bed. 

It was Friday night. Tomorrow was Saturday. Tim could have stayed up later. It wasn’t a school night. Jason would have thought the anti-sleep zombie would have liked staying up later when he was allowed to. So why was he asleep now? 

“Jaylad?” 

Jason startled out of his thoughts as Bruce nudged the door open and stepped into the room. He glanced between Jason and the sleeping ball of blankets on the bed before focusing on Jason, apparently satisfied Tim was asleep. 

“He’s asleep,” Bruce hummed softly. “It’s time to go, chum.”

Right. Go. Patrol. Friday night. He could stay out late and get ice cream and chili dogs and play rooftop tag with Dick until Bruce told them to stop and focus only for one of them to tag him and then he’d have to play and tag one of them back. It was Friday night and Tim was asleep. Jason could forget about the kid for now, right? Dick had been right, Tim couldn’t get into any trouble while he was asleep. Jason just had to forget about him till morning. How hard could it be? 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Master Tim…”

Tim groaned, half heartedly batting at the hand shaking his shoulder, but it didn’t go away. 

“Master Tim, the others have left for patrol. It is time.”

Time…? Time for…?

Wait, time! 

Tim bolted upright, eyes wide with excitement as he came face to face with Alfred Pennyworth smirking knowingly down at him. It was time. Time to go downstairs into the batcave and help Agent A run the coms for tonight’s patrol. Alfred had insisted Tim go to sleep, and really sleep, or he’d never be able to fool Jason. Alfred promised he’d wake him up when it was time. And he did. Alfred had woken him up just like he promised. And now it was time. 

“Come now, Master Tim,” Alfred smiled as he stepped back to give him room. “Gather your coat and shoes and I trust you can find your way downstairs.”

Oh could he. 

Tim bolted to do as he was told, grabbing a pair of warm socks and slipping his shoes on over them. Unsurprisingly, Alfred was already gone by the time he turned around to grab his hoodie, but Tim didn’t mind. He’d meet him downstairs . He was probably already waiting for Tim down there. Or keeping their cover up. It might get suspicious if Alfred was gone from the coms for too long. 

So Tim pulled his hoodie over his head and raced down the stairs, to the study, through the grandfather clock, and down more stairs, before he finally skidded to a stop on the main platform of the batcave, just in front of the batcomputer. He could make out some chatter over the coms, but Alfred had the volume turned down low enough to still be heard but not be so distracting as he worked on something that looked like a mission report. 

So Alfred helped with paperwork too. Huh. Tim could probably help with that. He was good with computers and businesses. It couldn’t be that different, right? 

Alfred looked up then and offered a small smile as he motioned to a second chair Tim hadn’t noticed before. Slightly higher than his own, which was good. It let Tim see things better. Not that he needed it. He wasn’t that short, he could manage, thank you very much, but it was nice sometimes. 

“Would you care to sit down, Master Tim?” 

Right. Duh. 

Tim scrambled to the other side of the computer and climbed up into his chair, watching as Alfred pulled up a few CCTV feeds on the monitor in front of him. It was dark, but Tim could make out the silhouettes of both Batman and Robin standing on the edge of a roof, overlooking the city. Robin was motioning around himself like he was upset about something. Based on the annoyed tone Tim could pick up from the com line, he probably was. 

“Ah yes,” Alfred hummed as he reached over to turn the volume up so Tim could hear. “It appears our favorite show is on. Master Jason, confused by our secrets.”

Tim glanced up just in time to see Alfred’s eyes sparkle before the speakers cracked to life, the words matching Robin’s gestures on the monitor perfectly. 

“--I tried to forget about it, B, but he’s gotta be up to something! The only way to figure it out is to catch him in the act!”

Batman sighed, long and drawn out until Tim could feel every bone in his body aching with the tired exasperation. 

“Robin, he’s asleep , you can’t catch him in any act while he’s asleep. You triple checked. He’s not faking it this time, we know he’s asleep. He can’t get in any trouble until morning at least.”

…morning. Tim had until morning before Jason would be checking on him again. Jason was still suspicious, sure, but he wouldn’t be checking on him until morning. 

Alfred cleared his throat and Tim looked up, grinning when he caught Alfred’s eye. He had been right. He’d told Tim to go to sleep before patrol and he had been right. From the look in his eye now, it was pretty obvious Tim had a lot to learn from the man. 

Alfred almost smirked before nodding once, the unspoken message clear between both of them. Do anything Alfred says and don’t question it. Alfred was very wise. 

“Besides,” Batman sighed into his hand when Robin looked about ready to keep fighting. “I think Agent A’s been able to get through to him. If anyone can…” 

Robin groaned and threw up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know! Rule number one: Never underestimate Agent A! But rule number two, B!” Jason spun on his heel to face Bruce, a fury in his eyes even the cameras could pick up from the shine of the city lights. “Never underestimate the amount of trouble the kid can get into!” 

Tim snickered as Batman sighed in defeat. Really, if those two were the rules, they should add a third one. If Tim and Alfred work together, give up now. 

Alfred hummed knowingly as he pulled out a plate of cookies from seemingly nowhere. “Quite right, Master Tim.”

Chapter Text

Dick hummed to himself, holding a copy of Jane Eyre out in front of his face as he hung from the chandelier. Upside-down, that is. As you do. In his defense, he was holding the book upside-down too so that he could read it properly. Though he was tempted to turn it right-side up and try to read it with all the letters flipped and the words backwards. Because, ya know… It might make it more interesting. He just had to make sure Jason never found out he said that… Or, well, thought it anyway. 

Dick could have sworn he’d heard Jason rant about this exact book at least three times before, but he couldn’t be completely sure…

Oh well, all that meant was that he could get Jason to help him with his homework after he finished reading it, right? Little Wing would probably love to. Shortly after laughing at Dick for being an idiot. Which, fair, but the book was boring. And besides, if it made Jason laugh it was worth it.  

He smiled to himself as he tried to finish the page he was on but stopped at the sound of footsteps padding towards him. They were small. Couldn’t be Bruce or Alfred, and the noise was ever so slightly too loud to be Jason. Though it did give Dick pause for a few moments. He hadn’t known Tim could be that close to Jason’s level of quiet. Was he normally that quiet or was it just when he was hiding something? Was he hiding something? Jason had been insisting the baby bird was up to something but he’d been insisting that for days now and nothing had come of it. So either Tim was bat level good at hiding things or Jason was paranoid. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise Dick if the answer was both. 

He was coming closer, though. Which was odd, as there was almost nothing down this particular hall. The second parlor, an East facing window–perfect for watching sunrises but it was evening–and a bathroom. That was about it. Besides the best hanging chandelier in the house. Not to be confused with the best swinging chandelier, the best climbing chandelier, or the best bring-a-friend chandelier. But Dick was getting off topic. Just a few more feet and Tim would be within view. And Dick would find out what was back here that he needed. 

Just a few more feet annnnnndddddd–there. Tim materialized in the entryway to the foyer area Dick occupied, hands wrapped around his stomach and head down, moving fast. Moving straight toward… The bathroom? 

Dick frowned, watching as Tim disappeared behind the door, swinging it shut behind him. But that didn’t make any sense. Tim had to have passed at least two other bathrooms on the way to this one. This one was way more secluded than the rest of the house. Why would he come all the way back here when he could have used any number of the other ones? Unless he was hiding something. He hadn’t looked up, after all. He didn’t know Dick was here. But what could he be hiding in a bathroom?  

Dick froze as the sounds of retching echoed through the door. 

Oh. That’s what he was hiding. 

It was Sunday night. Tomorrow was a school day. Tim had a weird thing about not missing school. He probably didn’t want anyone to find out he was sick because they’d make him stay home. 

Dick sighed, silently swinging down from the chandelier and setting his book down on a little table against the wall before walking toward the bathroom door. Tim hadn’t quite closed it all the way, it was still open just a crack from where he’d blindly swung it, but Dick knocked anyway. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. He waited a few moments as the noises within died down, then knocked again. This time, he could hear the baby bird scrambling to get to his feet, flush the toilet, and wash up before making his way to the door which Dick already had open. 

Tim looked up at him, eyes wide and bloodshot for half a second before he plastered on his best innocent smile. Which could have been convincing if he could look like he was capable of standing. As it was, he was shaking with what was clearly exhaustion and looked like a small breeze could blow him over. 

“Tim?” Dick raised a worried eyebrow, squatting down to the baby bird’s level as he did. “You ok?” Stupid question, really, it was obvious he wasn’t. But it gave Tim the opportunity to ask for help or not. 

Which he didn’t. 

The baby bird just nodded vigorously, nearly losing his balance as he did. Dick barely stopped himself from reaching out to stable him. But Tim didn’t like being touched. 

Dick sighed anyway, shaking his head. “No, Timmy, you’re not ok.”

Tim opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, but Dick cut him off. 

“No, I heard you.” 

Tim’s eyes grew wide, his smile dropping off his face. And wow, the baby bird looked pale. Pale and scared. He dropped his eyes to the floor a moment later, clearing his throat before he spoke. 

“Please don’t tell Alfred…” 

Oh the poor thing. Dick would bet his favorite escrima sticks that Alfred already knew. Alfred knew everything. Always. But Dick nodded anyway. 

“I promise I won’t tell him.” 

Tim perked up, hope flooding his features even as the sudden movement tipped him off balance. 

“ If –” Dick finally gave in to his impulse to hug the baby bird and caught him before he could fall, pulling him close enough to keep him steady but lose enough he could pull away if he wanted. “--if you go to bed. Right now.”

Tim looked hesitant for a moment, his eyes never leaving Dick’s arms around him, but then, all at once, he caved. As Dick melted. 

The baby bird stopped trying to hold himself up, instead letting Dick scoop him off his feet and cradle him as he curled around his middle. Stomachache, then. Maybe just a bug. Could be gone by morning. 

Dick stood up, cradling the small one in his arms to take him up to his room. It would only take a minute or two to make it through the manor and up to the bedrooms, but even then, the baby bird was asleep before Dick pushed his door open. He smiled to himself as he set Tim down in the big bed and tucked him in. Hopefully, he’d be fine by morning. Whatever this was. Tim sure would be mad if he had to miss school. 

Chapter Text

Jason frowned as he entered the school cafeteria and didn’t immediately see Tim. The kid was usually sitting by himself–at least until Jason got there to join him–so he was normally really easy to spot. Except today, apparently. Every table was crowded with kids all clamoring to tell their stories first or laugh at someone else’s joke. The few quiet tables held three or four kids who clearly didn’t want to associate with the others, but nowhere in the mess of students and chaos was a single rich troublemaker sitting by himself. 

He couldn’t be kidnapped again, right? He had to be fine. Wherever he was. Jason had set up an alert system on the batcomputer to ping his phone should any of the kid’s trackers leave school grounds before 3:00PM. And he hadn’t received any texts in the last few hours so Tim had to be here. Somewhere. 

Well, fastest way to find him would be the trackers, right? Knowing the kid, he could be in any kind of trouble. For all Jason knew, there could have been a rogue attack and they had Tim but they just hadn’t left the property yet. This was Gotham, after all. One can never be too sure. 

He pursed his lips at the thought and pulled up Tim’s tracking data, careful to angle his body toward the wall so no one else caught a glimpse of his phone. It was unlikely any of the other school kids would be able to recognize high tech tracking data and wonder why Jason had it, but again, this was Gotham. Besides that, he’d be dead if B found out his whole school knew he was Robin because he hadn’t been careful with his phone. So better safe than sorry. And as for Tim, the kid was… In the French classroom? What was he doing in the French classroom? That room was barely used during school hours, what would he be doing in there during lunch? Tim didn’t take French, there was no reason he should be in there at all… 

Jason sighed and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, gathering his backpack and lunch as he headed back down the hall. Hopefully the kid wasn’t in there being held hostage or something. As much as Jason would love to shove his fists in some idiot kidnapper’s face, that wouldn’t be good for Tim. 

He hurried down the hall before slowing at the open door to the French classroom. The very dark classroom. Why were the lights off if Tim was in there? Had something happened? Was Tim even conscious? 

A quick look at his phone told Jason the kid hadn’t actually moved in several minutes. Not good. Jason couldn’t just run in, though. If someone had knocked the kid out, if they were still in there…

Jason grabbed a pencil from his backpack and tossed it into the room, waiting for it to hit the opposite wall and clatter before he slipped through the doorway to blend in with the darkness. Just like Bruce taught him to. He just had to figure out what was going on…

Someone ran past outside the hall just as a tiny wince came from the corner of the room. 

Tim . 

It was all Jason could do to stop himself from running to the kid, instead forcing himself to scan the room now that his eyes had adjusted and make sure it was empty. Which it seemed to be. He rushed to the corner of the room where a small bundle was curled up against the wall and knelt down beside him. He was curled up, hands behind his head and arms covering his ears, with his head on his knees. And Jason still had no idea why. 

“Tim?” Jason reached out a hand to touch the kid’s shoulder, just to make sure he was conscious, but he never quite made it that far. 

“Go ‘way!” Tim hissed, venom lacing his voice even as he curled tighter around himself. And that… That was so unlike the kid that Jason totally froze. Something had to be wrong, right? Could Tim have gotten hit with fear toxin or was he being mind controlled? 

The kid stiffened suddenly and looked up, his eyes growing wide even in the darkness of the room. “Jay–Jason–” the kid stammered, panic rising through his limbs. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–!”

“No.” Jason cut him off firmly as he sat down beside him. Whatever had Tim so out of sorts, he was allowed to snap once in a while. He didn’t need to be scared of Jason. “It’s ok, Tim. You don’t need to be sorry.” He lowered his voice when Tim winced at the sound, but continued softly, “What’s going on?”

Tim stared up at him, his eyes still filled with fear for several seconds before everything in him seemed to just… Crumble. He shifted to curl back up, but this time he must have lost his balance or… Something. Because he leaned right into Jason, his head resting against the older boy’s ribs. 

“It hurts…” the kid whispered, nearly inaudibly, slurring his words just a bit. “Make i’ stop…” 

Jason froze for a second before slowly, cautiously, putting his arm around the kid. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t the kid totally melting . For as averse as Tim was to any kind of touch, that was the last reaction Jason expected. 

He still didn’t know what it was that was hurting the kid though… 

“Hey!!” Someone shouted to their friend in the hall and Tim sucked in a pained breath, pressing closer to Jason, almost like he was trying to bury himself in the older boy’s torso. 

Whoever was out in the hall squealed, pounding down the corridor a moment later as someone else chased behind them. 

Tim did his best to hold back a quiet scream like the noise was hurting him somehow. And… Oh. Noise, light, pain… Migraine. 

Jason pursed his lips and pulled the kid closer, covering one of the kid’s ears by pressing his head gently into Jason’s chest while Jason covered his other ear with his hand. He couldn’t quite be sure that it worked, but Tim relaxed only a few moments later, every muscle in his body going limp as he settled into Jason’s hold. 

And if Bruce got a call soon about two of his sons going missing during lunch? Well, too bad. Jason was being held hostage by a drifting Tim and there was nothing anyone could do to rescue him.

Chapter Text

There was a deal going down. By the docks, not far from Crime Alley. Not far from where Bruce first found Jason. Where his middle son had spent most of his life. And, annoyingly enough, the territory Bruce couldn’t keep the boy from running off to protect every chance he got. Jason seemed to have claimed Crime Alley as “his”. His to protect, his to serve, his territory that neither Bruce nor Dick could apparently understand or properly enter. Which, based on the stories Jason told of the time before Bruce adopted him, he was probably right. 

And Crime Alley needed a protector. Bruce would just prefer Jason to wait until he was a little older and more experienced first… Before claiming the single most dangerous part of Gotham City as his. 

But that was beside the point. 

There was a deal going down, not far from Crime Alley, and it involved kids . And Robin was seething with rage. 

They were going to have to take down the goons without hurting any of the kids, make sure none of them got away and do it before they loaded the children onto the ships. And make sure Robin didn’t get himself killed in the process.

Step one, get the goons away from the kids. Distraction would work. Draw away their fire. Batman was the most well armored, though his presence could scare some of them away. If they ran, Batman and Robin might not be able to track them all. But if Robin was the distraction, he risked getting hurt. And he wasn’t skilled enough yet to take down that many angry gunmen. Especially how angry he was himself. 

Step two was to make sure the kids were safe and calm enough to sneak out without drawing attention. Robin was definitely more cut out for that than Batman. Based on their proximity to the Alley, Bruce would bet property half those kids were Alley kids. There was no one they trusted more than the Alley Robin.

Step three was to make sure Jason was in control enough of his emotions to not take a bullet or run head on into the fight. Simple enough. If there was one thing Bruce could trust about Jason’s temper, he would never, never let it get in the way of protecting kids. If his job was to get the kids out safely, he’d push down his anger enough to focus on the job. 

And finally, step four, Batman had to make sure he took down every one of the gunmen before Robin got the kids to safety and decided to come back to let off some steam. 

Simple enough, right? 

Deep breath, here we go.

“Robin.” Batman growled to his partner, receiving a glare in return, barely contained rage hidden behind the white of his son’s domino mask. “Get the kids to safety, I’ll draw the gunfire.”

Jason softened almost immediately at the command, nodding his head once before jumping down into a dark alley where he could sneak behind the cages where the kids were being held. Batman waited a moment to make sure his son hadn’t been spotted before grappling to the opposite building and dropping down into the middle of what instantly became a warzone. One punch after another, then a dodge, front kick knocking one goon into another, dodge again, smoke bomb, take down as many gunmen as he could while the smoke filled their eyes, then repeat. 

Bodies started hitting the ground, he was making good progress. Robin should only be through the locks and calming the kids by now, he still had time to end this before Robin could get himself hurt. That and he had to make sure no one ran. 

Almost on cue, he heard an engine start. Then another. Two cars and still too many gunmen left to go after them. He fought his way to the edges of the fray and hurled a few batarangs at the retreating vehicles, but only managed to take out the tires on one. The other was already too far and he couldn’t leave this fight. Not now. 

He grunted, turning back to finish the job. It only took another minute or two, but that was plenty of time to lose a car. Alfred would be keeping his eye on the fight and keeping a close eye on Jason, as much as he seemed like it, the man couldn’t do everything . The car could be gone for good. Either way, he had to try. 

One last well aimed blow and the last goon fell as Batman pulled out his grappling line and landed on the nearest roof. He barely had time to bring his hand to his com and growl out a quick “Agent A–” before the elder man’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

“ 14th and Hansen Street, sir. No need to hurry.”  

No need to… what? What was that supposed to mean? And how did Alfred figure that out so fast? 14th and Hansen was only two blocks away, surely the car had gotten further than that in nearly two minutes? Still, Bruce wasn’t going to question it. 

“Robin–” Batman started to inquire, but Alfred cut him off again. 

“ The lad is fine, sir. He’s escorting the children to one of your safehouses now.”

Batman grunted in confirmation and grappled off to find 14th and Hansen. It only took him half a minute to reach the crossroads, noting immediately why there had been no need to hurry. The car he’d missed a few minutes earlier sat in the intersection, half wedged under a semi truck, the driver unconscious, though the truck driver was entirely unharmed. And on top of that, there was a hospital not three blocks away. Batman could already hear the ambulance sirens. He really hadn’t needed to hurry. He couldn’t have been more perfect.

He nearly smiled to himself as he turned back to finish cleaning up the mess at the docks, zip tying all the gunmen before they woke up and calling Gordan to let him know who all to pick up, including the driver of the accident a few blocks away. Then he followed Alfred’s directions to the safehouse Robin had holed up in with the kids, smiling to himself when he spotted Jason through the window dishing out bowls of warm, homemade chili he had Alfred made sure to keep in all the safe houses just in case. 

Give it a few years, his son would be the protector of Crime Alley.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim tried to force himself to stop smiling, stop bouncing, stop fidgeting, and focus . But it was Friday night and he was in the batcave helping Alfred help Batman and Robin and Tim couldn’t keep his excitement down . Mother and Father would be so ashamed of him. 

But then again, Mother and Father weren’t here. 

He looked up at Alfred, trying to be subtle about it–after all, it was rude to stare–but Alfred noticed anyway. The older man looked down at Tim, his eyes traveling first over Tim’s face, then his hands, then his bouncing feet hanging off the chair. And the man smiled . 

“Exciting, isn’t it, Master Tim?” 

There was no sarcasm in Alfred’s voice like there was when Dad said something similar. And there was no judgment like there would be if Mother had seen it. Alfred was just… Happy. 

“Yes,” the man hummed, turning back to his monitors. “Let it never be said there’s a boring night in the Wayne Manor. Always something going on to keep one entertained.” 

Tim grinned openly then, turning back to his own monitors to keep an eye on patrol. Batman and Robin had just reached their destination by the docks and–oh no. Tim frowned, pushing himself to the edge of his seat to get a better look at what was going on. The “deal” they’d been investigating wasn’t drugs or weapons. It was kids. 

Batman and Robin would save them though. They’d catch all the bad guys and save the kids and get them food and find their parents or homes for them if they didn’t have parents. If anyone could save them, it was Batman and Robin. 

Batman growled out an order to Robin and then just like that, they were both off, Robin to save the kids, Batman to take out the thugs. They’d do it. They’d get them all and they’d save the kids. 

Tim glanced up at Alfred’s screens, noting the older man was paying more attention to the younger vigilante than he was the older, so Tim turned his gaze toward Batman and the fight. Wouldn’t do to leave him without tech support and Alfred could definitely help Robin with whatever he needed. So Tim would help Batman. 

It didn’t take long for half the goons to be down, but then it didn’t take long for them to notice that and get scared either. Three of them bolted for the cars, two jumping in one car and the third in a second car. But that was ok. Batman would stop them. He’d make sure they were all caught and–he hurled batarangs, taking out the tires of the first car, but the second was already pealing out of the docks. He was getting away. He’d get away and he’d be left out there to hurt more kids because Batman couldn’t stop them all and–

No. Not on Tim’s watch. 

He set his jaw and pulled up the CCTV footage of the surrounding intersections. The thug was heading West down Hansen Street and there was a semi truck heading North on 14th. With the current speed of the car, if Tim timed it just right, he might be able to… 

He pulled up the traffic light circuits Alfred had helped him hack into as practice last week. He was still in the system, all ready to go. The light on the intersection between Hansen and 14th was currently red for 14th. The semi was slowing down. If he timed this just right… There. He switched the light to green, the light on Hansen Street already red. All the thug had to do was obey the traffic laws and he’d be fine. All he had to do. 

Tim smirked as the thug ran the red light, smashing right into the semi truck. The truck and driver, of course, were fine. The thug was passed out cold and his car smashed. His own fault, really, everyone knows red lights mean stop. 

One last thing to do, Tim sent off a text to the hospital down the road of the accident and the driver who would need attention, then he sat back and looked up at Alfred. The older man grinned down at him, pride written all over his face in a way that made Tim blush. 

“Well done, Agent T.”

Tim’s mouth dropped open at the name. He had a callsign. Tim was in the Batcave helping Batman and Robin and he had a callsign.

This night couldn’t get any better. 

Chapter Text

It’d been over a week since Tim started acting weird, almost a week since Jason had been keeping an even closer eye on him, searching for anything out of place—world domination plans, an army of trained ducks under his floorboards, the chemical formula to make Scarecrow's gas permanent— anything that seemed out of place, and still Jason had come up with nothing. The kid was clean. And the longer this went on, the more the kid had Bruce and Dick convinced it was nothing. That he wasn’t up to anything at all. 

And the longer it went on, the more it drove Jason insane . There was no way it was nothing. The kid was just that good at hiding it. And Jason had to figure it out. 

On the plus side, whatever it was had the kid actually taking care of himself. He’d been going to bed on time, getting up in time to grab breakfast before school, not throwing away the lunch Alfred packed him, eating dinner, and Jason hadn’t caught him smelling like coffee in two weeks. Like he said, the kid was clean. Too clean. And sure, he wasn’t perfect , Alfred never gave him a lot of food and he never took seconds, but he was clearly trying. He always at least went to bed on time, even if he was just fake sleeping when Jason checked on him. His computer was shut off, homework done, no books lying around, nothing obviously hidden under his covers, no light under the door when Jason snuck up to it, nothing. Fake sleeping or not, he was at least trying to sleep and he’d gone to bed as soon as Alfred told him to. 

So what was he hiding?

“ Robin .”

Jason snapped his head up, losing his balance in the process and nearly falling off the ledge he’d been crouched on. Nearly, mind you, he wasn’t that inexperienced. And besides, it wasn’t like anyone had seen—

Batman was smirking at him. Oh for the love of—

“I caught myself!”

Batman nodded slowly, quickly shifting his expression to the carefully blank scowl he usually wore. But Jason wasn’t convinced. He was Robin. He could read Batman like an open book. That and the Dark Knight’s shoulders were quivering. 

He rolled his eyes at his guardian and stood up to his full 4’9”. Something about that just made Batman smile more and Jason sighed. 

“Did you need something, old man?”

Batman gave his usual “hn”, briefly shaking his head to clear it of what Jason could only assume was the mental image of a kitten trying to seem threatening to a panther, then stepped back to let Jason step onto the roof instead of standing on the ledge. 

“You were staring at nothing for nearly 20 minutes.”

Nearly 20…? No way he’d been lost in thought for… Who was he kidding, this was Tim he was thinking about. The kid could dominate his thoughts for hours and he’d still come up empty. 

“And it’s time to head home.”

Jason glanced at his watch, sighing when it showed a little past 3:00AM. Which was, inconveniently enough, his weekend bedtime. After coming home, showing, stretching, going upstairs, eating an after patrol snack, and crashing. He hadn’t even started home yet and he was already late for bed. Alfred was going to be so disappointed. Tim was doing better than he was. Tim . What had his life come to? 

He sighed again, following Batman to the fire escape and down to where the Batmobile was waiting for them. It didn’t take long to get back with the speeds Batman drove and sure enough, Alfred was giving him the look as soon as they pulled into the cave. The look that every Robin feared. A thousand times worse than the batglare. 

Jason jumped out of the Batmobile before it even had time to fully stop, bolting to the showers to clean up and change into his pajamas before he ran back out to the cave to hurry through his stretching routine as fast as he could without sacrificing the actual stretching part, before finally bolting upstairs. He made a quick detour to the kitchen to grab the snack Alfred had set out for him but didn’t take the time to eat it before running upstairs to his room. It was only at the door, snickerdoodle in hand, that he finally slowed down, casting a suspicious glance in the direction of Tim’s room. 

Just one more door down the hall. 

Right next to his room.

Anything could be going on behind that door. 

Jason frowned, stuffing the rest of the cookie into this mouth before creeping closer to the kid’s door. There weren’t any lights coming from underneath the door, but there weren’t usually. Anything could have happened between now and four hours ago when Jason had checked on the kid last. Anything. 

He grabbed the handle, twisting it silently before pushing the door open slowly. There was just enough light streaming in from the hall to make out the lump on the bed and he could hear the kid’s faint snoring. He was asleep. He was actually asleep. Just like he’d been the last time Jason—

Wait.

Jason frowned, creeping closer to the bed to get a better look at the lump that rested on it. It was Tim, there was no doubt in his mind about that. No one could duplicate the kid’s floofy black hair and adorable little snores, but something wasn’t right. The kid was flat on his back, stretched out like a twig, comforter tucked in around him. 

But Tim slept curled up on his side with all of his blankets wrapped around him like the world’s fattest baby burrito. And that’s how he’d been when Jason left him four hours ago. 

With the comforter tucked in like that, it almost looked like someone had carried the kid to bed… 

Tim grunted in his sleep, pulling his legs closer to himself as he grabbed the comforter and rolled over, effectively wrapping himself up like a little burrito. Not as fat as he normally did, but the kid was still asleep.

But… That meant… That meant that someone had definitely carried Tim to bed. And recently if he were only curling up to get comfortable now . But that meant… Tim had been up since Jason last checked on him. Tim had been up to something since Jason last checked on him. 

Jason was right. 

All this time, and he was right. 

Tim was up to something. 

And if someone had carried him to bed, that meant Tim had fallen asleep in the process of whatever it was he was doing. Someone had caught Tim asleep at whatever it was he was up to. And had covered for him .

Tim was up to something and someone here was in on it. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick pursed his lips as he watched Tim stare down at his plate like it had grown a costume and shtick and become Batman’s latest villain. The baby bird poked at the half finished meatloaf but didn’t quite manage to spear any onto his fork. And he didn’t seem to mind the extra boundary to getting the food into his mouth. Which was odd. Not bad, necessarily, but odd. Alfred had already given Tim the smallest plate of food out of any of them, his meatloaf thin enough to be lunch meat rather than a slice of bread (or several slices as in Dick, Jason, and Bruce’s cases), his mashed potatoes not even equal to a scoop of ice cream, and his steamed vegetables containing no more than one small piece of each vegetable Alfred had prepared. Despite the small portions, Tim had only eaten half of each item on his plate and now looked like he wouldn’t be able to stomach another bite. 

Maybe the baby bird was feeling sick again… 

Dick frowned, watching Tim continue trying to convince himself to eat more, only managing a small bite before frowning more. 

Huh. So he was either feeling sick or just really not hungry. Either way, watching him struggle to finish his food like this was painful. Dick had to do something to put him out of his misery. 

He jumped up out of his chair and stretched dramatically, drawing at least a cursory glance from Bruce and Jason in the middle of their discussion on Frankenstein.

“Well! I’m done,” Dick grinned, gathering his dishes before reaching for Tim’s. “How about you, Timmy?”

The baby bird looked about to protest, but Dick continued anyway. “Art class is making me try out some photography as homework, you wanna see what I got so far?” Tim liked photography, right? Bruce had caught him secretly developing photos in the cellar that once, it only made sense he’d like it. 

And there, yep, the smallest break in Tim’s carefully neutral expression. He did, in fact, like photography. 

Dick silently whooped, grinning outwardly as he took Tim’s plate. “Come on, I got a really cool one from the top of WE yesterday!”

Tim brightened a little but still looked hesitant as he followed Dick (and his unfinished plate of food) into the kitchen. 

Dick pushed through the door and Alfred took one look at him and the plates he brought to the kitchen before turning his gaze to Tim and offering the baby bird a small, but satisfied nod. And that, strangely enough, was all it took for Tim to relax. A silent conversation perhaps, but Dick caught enough of it to realize Tim had thought Alfred wanted him to finish and had been trying to do so because of it. Huh. Bruce was right, then. Alfred really had gotten through to him. 

Regardless, that still left the question of why Tim hadn’t wanted to finish in the first place. And whether or not the baby bird was feeling sick.

Dick hummed to himself before bounding out of the kitchen and up to his room, slow enough to let Tim keep up and yet… He didn’t seem to need it. Tim followed quickly and quietly, either jumping over the same things Dick did or skittering around them almost as fast. Almost like a Robin. Which was perfect, really, that would just make him easier to train if he was already this good. 

He pushed through the door to his room and cartwheeled over to his desk grabbing the stack of photographs he’d had developed before flopping down on his bed and patting the spot beside him for Tim to sit down. The baby bird did so, quickly scrambling up and leaning over Dick’s shoulder to get a better look.

“Here, see?” Dick held up the one he’d taken of the Gotham skyline from WE, the sun rising in the background. Though Tim would probably just assume it was setting. He had no reason to think Dick had been up early enough (or late enough as the case was) to get that shot at sunrise. 

Tim smiled at the photo, settling into his place on the bed as Dick pulled up another one, this one of a lamppost in front of a church steeple, the latter a dark shape barely outlines behind the glow of the light in front. Tim smiled again, but this time reached out to take the photo from Dick, tilting it slightly until the church steeple ran diagonal in his hands before setting it back down for Dick to see. And that… That actually did make it better. A lot better, actually! A simple angle change like that and the picture was awesome! Dick made no effort to hide his grin as he turned to the baby bird in awe. 

“Wow, thanks! You’re really good at this!” 

Tim instantly turned a deep red, moving to hide his face from view as much as he could, but Dick caught the proud smile he tried to hide. Dick grinned and turned back to his photos, pulling up another picture to show, then another and another after that. Tim continued giving little tips, though it was usually without actually saying them, but Dick took notes—even literally—pulling out a piece of paper and pencil to write down his suggestions. And that made Tim blush even deeper, but the baby bird didn’t stop giving suggestions. 

Finally, after about ten minutes—and they’d made it through Dick’s entire stack of photos—he gathered them and his notes up and put them back on his desk with the rest of his homework before turning back to the baby bird. Time for the real reason he’d asked him here. 

Well… Not the real reason exactly. He’d definitely also wanted to show Tim his photos, especially after that second one, but he really did need to find out if the baby bird was ok.

“So,” he knelt down on the floor, leaning his elbows on the bed and his head on his hands to talk to Tim at his level. “How are you feeling?”

Tim looked confused for a moment so Dick clarified. 

“I mean, you didn’t finish your dinner. And after you got sick last week…”

Tim instantly paled at the mention of getting caught, his eyes going wide and Dick quickly backtracked. 

“I haven’t told anyone! I promise! And,” he softened, lowering his voice to something he hoped was sincere and trustworthy. “I won’t tell anyone now either if you decide to trust me.” 

Tim visibly calmed at the promise, but shook his head no. 

“Ah,” Dick nodded his understanding. “Just not hungry then?”

Tim nodded earnestly, everything in his features begging Dick to believe him. Which he did, Tim really didn’t look sick at all, Dick just had to make sure. He’d hate for Tim to be hurting like that without Dick even noticing.

But the baby bird still looked nervous. 

“Ok,” Dick smiled, projecting as much of a trusting, “just worried older brother” look as he could. Jason still said that look needed work, but Tim seemed to calm down at least a little so maybe it wasn’t as bad as Jason said. “I believe you, just wanted to make sure.”

Tim nodded once before moving to slip off the bed. And Dick held back a sigh. Apparently he really hated any kind of talk about his feelings, even physical. And he wasn’t going to stick around as soon as the conversation started that direction. 

Oh well, at least the baby bird wasn’t feeling bad.

Chapter Text

Seven goons on the main floor, a sniper on the catwalk, two leaders fighting over something in the office, and three guards outside. Thirteen targets in total. 

Agent T grinned, adjusting his windows so he could see the feed from every one of his camera views at once. Batman, Nightwing, and Robin were all teamed up for this raid, crouched on the roof as they surveyed the scene and coordinated their attack. 

This was gonna be good. 

He and Agent A were listening in on their coms as Batman gave the orders. Batman and Nightwing would take out the guards outside (shortly after Agents A and T looped the cameras), silently, then burst in through the front and back doors respectively while Robin dropped in through the skylight and took out the sniper. From there, Batman and Robin would continue fighting everyone in the main warehouse while Nightwing took out the higher ups in the office. Assuming all went to plan, this would be over in a matter of minutes leaving thirteen less drug dealers on the streets and three happy vigilantes headed for ice cream.

Assuming it all went to plan, that is.

Batman gave the signal and Tim hit the button to loop the cameras just as both vigilantes dropped down beside the building, taking out the guards outside and bursting in at the same time as Robin took out the sniper.

All according to plan.

Another moment and Robin dropped down on one of the goons while Batman distracted the lot of them and Nightwing fought his way to the office. 

All according to plan. 

Robin knocked out the thug he landed on then took another, Batman took out the one closest to the door–continuing to draw the fire of the others away from his partners–and Nightwing had two still on the ground while he made it to the office door. 

All according to plan . 

With only two gunmen left, Nightwing moved closer to the door. The door with a tiny sparkle shining in Agent T’s camera feed from the office side. 

Wait, was that…?

Agent T’s eyes widened in horror. 

Not according to plan. Abort. Now.

“Alfred!” Tim hissed urgently. “Bomb!”

Alfred snapped his attention toward where Tim was pointing, his eyes barely having time to adjust before he was switching their coms on and sending the urgent order. 

“Nightwing, stop!”

The vigilante froze, his hand just inches from the doorknob. 

“The door is rigged to blow, sir.” Alfred’s voice was immediately calmer now that his grandson wasn’t about to trigger his own death, but Tim could still hear the worry in his partner’s tone. “You’ll have to find another way in.”

Nightwing hummed, taking several steps back for good measure as Batman and Robin finished the last of their targets and began breaking out the zipties. The two higher ups, meanwhile, who had clearly heard the noise, began frantically working on their computers and shredding documents. Agent T had no doubt they were deleting files and all the evidence that could be used against them.

Nightwing, from the way he was pacing impatiently a few feet away, knew it too.

“Any idea what other way that would be?” 

Alfred hummed, glancing over at Tim who already had the blueprints pulled up, searching them for anything out of place. A secret entrance or false wall wasn’t likely to be on the city’s blueprints, but something like a suspiciously wide gap between walls was, or a wall Tim could see on the screen being a little closer to the camera than the blueprints showed it was supposed to be. He just had to find something out of place…

There!

Tim grinned deviously, tapping Alfred to signal his need for privacy before speaking.

“Here,” he pointed to the screen after he heard the click of the coms turning off. “The walls are too far apart from here—” he touched the space between two adjacent walls to the office “—and here.” He trailed his finger across the path that could be used to sneak out, all the way to the exterior wall of the warehouse connecting to the alley out back. 

Alfred smiled, wide and proud, and Tim squirmed in his seat as the heat rose past his grin and into his cheeks. 

“Well done, Agent T,” Alfred made sure to meet his eyes before turning back to switch on the coms and relay the information. 

Nightwing bolted for the back door the moment he heard, following Agent A’s directions to the false wall in the alley, then through the passageway before he burst into the office where the higher ups were still destroying evidence. Tim couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces.

Only… They didn’t move. Nightwing had burst in, Tim heard it through the coms, but on-screen the false wall didn’t move, the officers didn’t react, and Nightwing remained totally off-screen. 

“Agent A,” Nightwing’s voice came through the coms in an urgent hiss. “It’s empty. There’s no one in here, they’re already gone.”

No.

They couldn’t have, Tim had been watching the screens the whole time, they were still there how had–?

They looped the footage.

Agent T’s eyes widened at the sudden realization. They’d looped the footage, destroyed the evidence, and made it out before anyone could follow them. If they didn’t act fast, they’d lose them for sure.

“Working on it now, sir.” Alfred informed the vigilante—his voice impossibly calm after the mistake they’d just made—even as Tim frantically pulled up the CCTV footage from the back door. It should be able to see just about anything passing in and out of the alley. He just had to rewind it until he saw the drug dealers sneaking out and then follow them to figure out where they’d gone and—

“Alfred, here!”

They were ducking into an abandoned café across the street not three minutes ago. They were probably laying low, waiting for their chance to move. If the vigilantes hurried they could—

“What was that?” Batman’s growl came over the com, dark and broody and every ounce the Batman voice crooks feared directed at them. 

Tim frowned, snapping his attention to the screen showing Batman and Robin in the main part of the warehouse, but there was no danger in sight. None of the thugs had woken up, no one else had entered the room, all that was there was Robin staring at Batman in shock and Batman…

Batman had his head bent downward like he was listening, his hand by his ear. 

He was listening to his com. 

“Abandoned café,” Alfred hummed like Tim’s life wasn’t about to end. “Across the street, they should be hiding out in there.”

Nightwing sprung into action, but Batman and Robin didn’t move.

“Agent A,” Batman growled darker as every ounce of color drained from Tim’s face. “Who was that?”

“That was my partner, sir,” Alfred hummed like he was explaining how to make a cup of earl grey. Tim wanted to scream. Or cry. He wasn’t picky. “Agent T.”

Silence reigned for what felt like a lifetime before Tim could hear the crackle of electricity and groans of pain and knew Nightwing had found their missing drug dealers. He wasn’t making any jokes this time, though. He wasn’t talking, just taking out his targets. And listening. They were all listening. 

Tim shifted to slide off his seat, but Alfred stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“ Agent T?” Batman’s voice finally came over the coms, disbelieving and angry. He was so angry. He was going to come back to the cave and he’d yell at Tim and send him back home to the big empty house and Tim would never be allowed over again and he wouldn’t be able to help Alfred anymore and— “ Tim?! Alfred—”

Alfred snorted— he actually snorted— undignified and dripping in judgment as he cut off whatever Batman was about to say. “You can choose your partners but I cannot choose mine, Master Bruce?”

The coms went dead silent for several stretching moments. The only things left Tim could hear were the bats in the cave and his own labored breathing. When Batman did finally speak, it was enough to stop Tim’s heart.

“I’m coming home.”

Tim wanted to run. He wanted to shake off Alfred’s hand and bolt for the stairs, never stopping until he got home and could hide in the smallest closet in the manor, behind all the coats and blankets where no one could ever find him and he could pretend he died and he’d never have to see Batman or Nightwing or Robin ever again and—

“You shall do nothing of the sort,” Alfred’s words cut through Tim’s thoughts, firm and commanding and he didn’t even say Master Bruce, Alfred only left that off when he was angry and he didn’t say it but why would he be angry? 

But he was continuing, his voice softer but every ounce as firm as it had just been. “You’re scaring my partner.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You shall do nothing of the sort.” 

Bruce stood in shock, listening to Alfred rebuke him for reasons he didn’t even know. The older man was angry, that much was obvious, but Bruce had no idea why. 

He’d told Tim. Alfred had told Tim their secret and yet he was the one who was upset? Bruce wasn’t mad. Confused, yes. So confused. But Alfred never did anything without a good reason and he wouldn’t have kept this from him without a good reason either, but he’d still told Tim and not told them and then rebuked Bruce for his shock and disbelief and—

“You’re scaring my partner.”

Oh. 

Oh.

He wasn’t rebuking Bruce for his shock, he wasn’t angry about Bruce’s reaction, he was trying to shut him up before he did more damage to Tim. In fact, now that Bruce thought about it, this was probably the good reason Alfred had for not telling him. What had possessed Alfred to bring Tim down to the batcave in the first place was still a mystery, but keeping it a secret was almost definitely because Tim would be scared. And that was way more than enough reason.

There was a small click on the other side of the line as Alfred hit the mute button to stop Tim from hearing anything else they said over the coms. To stop them from freaking him out anymore.

“B?” Nightwing asked, the hesitancy clear in his voice even from the single word he spoke. 

“Call Gordon,” Bruce started toward the door, knowing Robin was close behind. “Meet us at the entrance to the cave but do not enter until Alfred gives the all clear.” 

“Understood.” Nightwing’s line clicked off, undoubtedly to make the call. Gordon would take care of the drugs and the dealers and Nightwing would meet them back in plenty of time.

Batman hit a button on his belt then heard the batmobile speed to a stop outside the door a moment later. He jumped in the driver’s seat, Robin only moments behind him, then took off down the road. It would only take them a few minutes to make it back to the cave under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal. He sped most the way there, then slowed to a crawl the second he was anywhere near where the tunnels might carry the echo of the engine back into the cave and alert Tim of their presence. Slow, yes, but by the time the car stopped as close as Bruce was willing to go, Alfred still hadn’t turned the coms back on. Now they just had to wait. 

Dick joined them after a few minutes, silently pulling his bike up beside the car. Even then, it was another eight minutes before the coms crackled back to life. 

“Alright, Master Bruce, you may come in now.”

In, not home. Because Alfred knew they were just waiting outside. 

Bruce turned the car back on and pulled into the cave, jumping out almost before the vehicle had stopped, Dick and Jason following closely behind him. Alfred was standing on the main platform by the batcomputer, Tim by his side. And Tim… Tim looked terrified. But he stood strong anyway, chin held high, tear tracks almost completely wiped off his cheeks as he stared them down. 

“Master Bruce,” Alfred nodded politely as they each came up the stairs, “Master Dick, Master Jason, I’d like you each to officially meet my partner, Agent T.”

Bruce pulled his cowl down, staring down at the boy who apparently knew their secret. “Why?” he looked up at Alfred, searching the older man’s eyes for the answers, but he just looked proud. “Or how?” If Alfred was proud did that mean… Tim figured it out? They’d thought they could keep it from the boy but he had been living with them for weeks now, it was possible he figured it out on his own. 

Alfred just smiled wider as he looked down at Tim. The boy took the hint and stepped forward slightly, though Bruce wished he’d sit down. With how much he was shaking, a small breeze could knock him over. 

“I figured it out,” Tim met Bruce’s eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “Quadruple somersault,” here, he turned to Dick, tears springing up into his eyes. “I’m sorry… But only you can do it. And I saw Robin do one once.”

Wait, Robin? Bruce frowned, glancing between each of his sons in turn. Dick hadn’t been Robin for almost a year now, if Tim had figured it out because of Dick’s signature move when he was Robin … That meant that Tim figured it out before he came to live with them . 

He’d known this whole time. 

“I never told anyone!” the boy tacked on before any of them could process. “Your secret’s safe, I’d never tell anyone and—”

Dick started laughing, cutting off Tim’s rambling as the boy just stared. 

“See?!” Dick grinned, his smile reaching all the way to his ears. “I told you he’s smart!” 

Tim froze at that, almost as if he was unsure whether he should blush or continue trying to explain. “You’re… You’re not mad?” He hesitated, looking up at Bruce, that fear hidden in every corner of his blue eyes. 

Bruce sighed and shook his head, kneeling down to Tim’s level to meet his gaze. “How could we be, chum?” An ounce of the boy’s panic melted just with that statement, so Bruce went on. “You figured it out all on your own, you protected our secret for us, and you’ve been helping Alfred like a hero. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re an amazing asset to our team.”

Tim’s mouth hung open slightly, staring at Bruce like he’d never heard anything crazier.

“And,” Bruce added, his smile growing bigger, “a wonderful addition to this family.” 

Tim really did freeze then, even his breath caught in his throat, totally awestruck and unable to move. Bruce shifted slightly closer in case Tim needed to be caught, but he didn’t need it. He kept his footing and forced the breath back into his lungs after a moment. Then, slowly, he smiled. Just the smallest bit. Not the wide, fake smile Bruce had seen the boy display at galas and other public functions he was dragged to, but a real, soft, genuine smile. 

He looked up at Bruce in awe, then over at Dick—undoubtedly still grinning with the proudest big brother face known to man—and he softened a little more. Then he shifted, glancing over at Jason, and froze. 

Bruce turned to see his second son standing in shock, his mouth hanging open. 

He opened his mouth to ask if everything was alright when Jason finally spoke, turning on Bruce was the most disappointed, yet proud, yet outraged look Bruce had ever seen on his son.

“I TOLD YOU HE WAS UP TO SOMETHING!”

Chapter Text

Nightwing took a deep breath and made sure all his pockets and weapons were tightly secured. He couldn’t risk anything falling and giving away his position. He could barely risk breathing. He had never faced a foe quite so staggeringly good at their job. All his training had led him to this moment. He couldn’t afford a single mistake. 

He took another breath and began his journey, plunging into the shadows of the room as he crept around the platform his targets were on. He could hear them conversing above him. The older giving advice and pointers, the younger communicating his understanding with a determined nod, shifting his clothes just enough for Dick to pick up on it and know how he’d moved. They were distracted. Good. 

Nightwing crept toward the stairs, then crouched behind a wall, making sure he was as invisible to his targets as he could possibly get. Now, he just had to wait. If he’d timed this right, it would only be a few more minutes. 

Or 7 minutes and 32 seconds, not bad, really. Better early than late, right? 

The older was saying goodnight to the younger now, sending him off to bed. 

The younger made a sound of disappointment but knew better than to argue, happily slipping off his chair and chorusing the goodnights as he made his way toward the stairs. 

Dick smirked to himself, knowing his target was completely unaware he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. 

Just a few yards closer, the older already gone back to his work, distracted. Just a few more feet and…

Nightwing darted out of his hiding spot, grabbed the target, clamped a hand over his mouth, and dove back under the platform as fast and as quietly as he could. 

“Master Tim?”

Dick swore to himself, not daring to breathe as the sound of the batcomputer chair squeaked across the floor and Alfred’s footsteps started in their direction. 

He glanced down at his cargo, the baby bird’s eyes blown wide in shock and confusion, but he made no move to cause trouble or make noise. Great. Tim was in on it. 

Dick grinned as he carefully took his hand off the baby bird’s mouth and put a finger to his lips, miming a very clear “be quiet…” command. Tim nodded his understanding, but unlike just ten minutes before, there was no noise associated with the motion. Huh. His first mission and the baby bird was already a natural. Dick grinned wider. 

“Master Tim?” 

Alfred called again, right above them now, at the foot of the stairs. Dick could hear the confusion in the older man’s voice, until suddenly, it was gone. 

Dick wasn’t quite sure how he knew, but something in the way the floor shifted as Alfred began to climb the stairs had Dick deflating, knowing they’d been caught. 

“How odd…” Alfred was mumbling to himself. “I suppose the lad went to bed after all. I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea.”

Yep. Alfred was onto them. 

Dick barely kept himself from laughing as Alfred disappeared up the stairs. Oh well. Everyone knew you can’t keep anything from Alfred, even if it was still fun to try. 

“Nightwing?” Tim was looking up at him, eyes still wide, a mix of confusion and excitement sparkling in the blue of his irises. 

“Come on!” Dick whisper shouted as he jumped up onto the platform before setting the baby bird down and sprinting to the locker rooms. “We got a surprise for you!”

Tim barely hesitated before following after him, just a few paces behind. 

Dick already had the right locker open and the small black suit held up when Tim burst into the room and stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. 

The baby bird looked so hopeful… So awestruck and hesitant… Dick could cry. 

“It’s for you,” he started, more hesitant than he realized he would be. “Jason and I made it for you. For tonight. It’s just black and doesn’t have any weapons or anything, but we can’t let anyone see us sneaking around Gotham with a kid sooo…”

Dick trailed off, watching as Tim took two small steps closer, his eyes shifting back and forth between Dick and the suit he held. He reached out to touch it but couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. 

“And Alfred’s only gone for a cup of tea, so come on!” 

Tim snapped his gaze back up to Dick, who grinned, wide and proud, before the baby bird finally smiled and took the suit, stripping almost before Dick could turn around. 

He finished less than two minutes later, tugging on Dick’s hand to signal he was ready, prompting Dick to turn back around, taking in the figure before him. The baby bird had never looked so small in the tight black kevlar, even with all the padding and armor he and Jason had built into it, but there was no denying it. Tim was absolutely adorable. He had a plane black belt to match the rest of the family, a few smoke bombs, two rebreathers, a taser (which hardly counts as a weapon in their line of work…), and a grapple gun in his pockets and pouches. Which they’d teach him how to use but they’d only put there just in case. Beyond that, he had reinforced gloves with sticky grips and a plane black domino which he’d somehow already figured out how to get on. And below the domino… The biggest smile Dick had ever seen the baby bird wear. He was shy, trying to hide it, but this was clearly making his year. 

~~~~~~~~~~

His sons were up to something. Bruce was certain of it, he just couldn’t quite place what it was. Ever since they’d discovered Alfred’s secret “Agent T” last week, Dick and Jason had been… Up to something. They’d been spending time in the cave together, would tell him they were sparring or training or researching a case, but when he came down to find them “sparring” on the mats, both boys looked flustered but neither sweating. Anytime he asked about the case, they’d only give vague details. Their details always lined up with each other, but that was to be expected. None of his sons were dumb enough not to get their story straight before they were separated. 

Normally, Bruce would brush such small inconsistencies off. But given the last few weeks, Bruce was taking a page out of Jason’s book. His sons were up to something. 

He just didn’t know what.

He’d been biding his time, waiting for them to slip up and let him catch them at something, but so far, neither of them had left him any crumbs to follow. 

That is, until now. 

Robin was shifting beside him. 

Only slightly, his foot grinding the gravel of the rooftop beneath his boot, and he kept stealing glances at the time when he thought Bruce wasn’t looking. On any normal day, he would have gotten away with it. But Bruce was onto them.

Nightwing was flying solo tonight, following his own patrol route. Every check in was normal. The city quiet for a Friday night. A quick check on Nightwing’s tracker 20 minutes ago had confirmed the teen was still on his regular patrol route. But another quick check now showed he hadn’t moved since the first check. 

Dick was always moving, crime or not. No, the tracker staying put only meant Batman’s oldest son had taken off his tracker and left it behind. 

Normally, Bruce wouldn’t have noticed. He wouldn’t have checked the tracking data. Tonight though… Tonight Batman was onto them.

He could–if he were desperate–pull up Nightwing’s emergency tracking data. Taken from three different trackers in his suit with alarms which would ping the batcave, Batman, and Alfred instantly should any of the three of them be disabled or be moved too far from the other two. But Bruce had an understanding with his sons. The emergency tracking data was for emergencies only. Bruce couldn’t risk losing his sons’ trust by checking it every time he thought they were up to something or they would be forced to remove those trackers too the next time they wanted to go behind his back. Bruce loved them too much to run that risk for anything but an emergency. 

So for now… He waited. 

His middle son was on edge–stealing glances at his watch every chance he got–and his oldest didn’t want Bruce to know where he was. His youngest had been sent to bed twenty minutes ago, but Tim wasn’t in on whatever was going on. 

…probably. 

If Bruce had learned anything last week, it was that Tim was the second best person in this family at hiding secrets. Second only to Alfred. 

But he probably wasn’t in on it.

Robin took one more sneaky glance at the time before he jumped up, the eyes in his domino mask blown wide. 

“Batman! Someone’s screaming!” Jason pointed to the North, but the boy didn’t make any moves in that direction.

Batman nodded, taking a step toward the edge of the building, curious what excuse his middle would have for not coming with. 

“I hear something else over here!” Jason pointed Southeast, already moving that way. “I’ll go check that one out!”

Batman grunted his understanding and growled after his son. “Meet back here when you’re done, call for backup if you need it.”

He wouldn’t need it. There was nothing there. 

Robin gave an affirmative and jumped off the building, disappearing into the alley and trusting that Batman would head North. 

Normally he would. But not tonight. Tonight Bruce was onto them. 

He hesitated only a moment to bring up Robin’s tracking data, only to see his tracker hadn’t moved either. Batman shifted a few feet to where the data was displayed, finding the small device tucked behind an AC unit. He smiled to himself, making a note to work on Jason’s impromptu excuses later, and left the device there. He couldn’t let his sons know he was onto them.

He turned then and ran, jumping to the building on the North, then circling back East just in time to catch a glimpse of Robin looking back to the building they’d been on to confirm he wasn’t being followed, before he dove off the building, grappled up to the next one, and started making his way Southwest. Batman made sure to stay at least three buildings behind him at all times, far enough away it was difficult to track the well trained boy, but as close as he was willing to get to not be spotted. 

It didn’t take long. 

Three minutes later, with one final glance thrown behind his shoulder, Robin dove off the building he was on and didn’t come back up. 

Batman circled around to come at his son from what he hoped was behind, staying low so he wouldn’t be spotted. 

“Well it’s about time! What took you so long?” 

That was Nightwing’s voice, hushed, but filled with humor, no hint of danger or stress. 

Batman let out a small breath of relief. As long as they weren’t in any danger, wouldn’t get in any danger, he didn’t mind a bit of sneaking. The independence was good for the young vigilantes.

Still, curiosity got the better of him and he crept closer. 

“I couldn’t think of a good excuse!”

The corner of Batman’s mouth twisted up, just slightly. They really needed to work on Jason’s impromptu excuses. 

Dick just laughed, the older boy well aware. Jason was a great actor, if he had a script in front of him, or a character to get into. Making up his own excuses, especially ones which would fool Bruce? Not the boy’s area of expertise. 

“Well your ice cream’s melting–”

Ah. Brother bonding time. Nothing suspicious ther–

“--but we got you your favorite.”

Batman stopped in his tracks. We?

He crept closer, glancing over the edge of the building just in time to see a small green, red, and yellow figure drop down to sit on the edge of the building, a larger black and blue figure handing him a bowl of Neapolitan ice cream, and a very tiny black figure sandwiched between them, all three swinging their legs over the edge of the building as they ate their ice creams. 

So that’s what they’d been up to. 

Batman allowed himself a small smile as he snapped a picture of his sons and slank back into the safety of the rooftop. That was going into an album. 

Chapter Text

“Whoa, hey now,” Dick laughed as he took the small explosives from Tim’s hand and set them back down on the table next to the baby bird’s belt. “Those are smoke bombs, we’re not ready to train with those yet. But they can help you sneak away if you get in a bad situation.” 

Tim nodded his understanding, ignoring the bombs for now as he moved on to the last item in his belt—the holster that held his grapple gun. 

“Now that ,” Dick hummed approvingly, “is something we should work on. If you’re going to be jumping over buildings with us, you’re going to need to be able to catch yourself if you fall.”

Dick tried not to think too hard about the words he was saying, tried to push the images of his parents from his mind, focus on the baby bird in front of him instead. Above all else, he had to stop his mind from replacing his parents with the baby bird in his memories. 

Tim wasn’t going to fall. That’s why they were doing this. They’d take care of him, just like they had with Jason. He taught Jason how to grapple and stayed close until he was sure, positive , Jason could catch himself if he fell. Little Wing was as good as any of them now, and Tim would get there too. 

He took a deep breath and forced it out again, forcing his mind to focus on the here and now, the smell of lime and lavender filling his nostrils, the fluttering of the bats in the distance, the slight chill in the air, and the baby bird in front of him. 

…the baby bird whose eyes were just as glazed and forlorn as Dick knew his had been a moment before. 

He bit his tongue to hold back a swear and shifted from his chair, immediately kneeling down in front of the baby bird’s chair and carefully laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tim? Tim, hey, listen to me, listen to my voice…” Dick shook the kid, just slightly, but it seemed to do the trick as the light came back to TIm’s eyes and he turned his head to look at Dick’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s good…” Dick whispered softly, but loud enough to give him something to listen to. “Focus on my hand, ok? Focus on what you can feel–” he rubbed the baby bird’s shoulder with his thumb to give him a bit of friction to zero in on, “–focus on my voice, listen for the bats… Can you hear them?” 

Tim shifted slightly, almost enough to look Dick in the eyes, but not quite there, his gaze landing somewhere on Dick’s chin or mouth instead. But he’d take it. 

“Can you talk, Baby Bird?”

Tim nodded, his eyes never moving, but that wasn’t really confirmation. 

“Ok, tell me what you smell.”

The baby bird shifted in his seat, taking a deep breath through his nose. Good. Then he let it out, and took another breath. Very good. 

“Rocks…” he started, slowly shifting his gaze around the cave, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Rocks and…flowers.”

He shifted his gaze back to Dick, finally meeting his eyes, and the older boy smiled. 

“That’s lavender,” Dick tried to clarify, but Tim just looked more confused. Maybe he could use that. “You’re right, lavender is a type of flower, Alfred uses lavender scented cleaner. And he really likes the flower, grows some out in the garden. Would you like to go see them?”

Tim hesitated at the question, but only for a moment before nodding and slipping off his chair to follow Dick up to the manor. Training could wait for another day, they had time. Dick and Jason would just sandwich the kid whenever he was close to the edge again, they could protect him until he was ready to protect himself. They had time. 

Dick didn’t know why the thought of falling seemed to have the same effect on Tim as it did himself, but he wasn’t going to press. Right now the baby bird needed a distraction. And Dick had a feeling he had the perfect one.

“Maybe you’d like to grab your camera too? There’s a lot of flowers and lights in the garden, there might be some cool pictures to take out there.”

Tim perked up at the suggestion and Dick mentally cheered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason yawned as he shuffled over the carpet, smiling to himself as he listened to his footsteps, uncaring about maybe being overheard by one far too intelligent seven-year-old. It was nice not having to keep the secret from Tim anymore, not having to pretend to go to bed only to sneak out, then sneak back in. He still had to be quiet, but that was because the kid was asleep, not because he didn’t know. Quiet was a whole lot different than silent as a bat. 

Jason paused outside his room, casting a glance just down the hall to Tim’s closed door. There wasn’t any light peaking through from the crack between the floor and the frame, no sound coming from within, and most importantly, Tim apparently had a deal with Alfred that actually had him sleeping. So Jason didn’t need to check on him anymore. He could trust the kid actually was asleep. 

Yeah. It was nice having Tim in on The Secret.

Jason yawned again and moved to push his door open when he stopped dead, his head snapping back toward Tim’s door as a sound came from the other room. Quiet, barely there, but unmistakable. 

The kid’s bed squeaked. Suddenly, loud enough to be heard from the hall, even if it was still quiet enough he wouldn’t have heard it had there been any other sounds in the manor, but still far louder than a simple sleepy shifting should have been. 

Something was up.

And Alfred was down in the cave. 

Jason frowned, quickly and quietly covering the distance to the younger boy’s room before knocking softly and opening the door. Nothing greeted him but darkness.

“Tim?”

The only light in the room streamed in from the hall, so Jason had to let his eyes adjust before he could make anything out, but slowly, he began to see a lump on the bed. 

Only it wasn’t a lump. That became more and more clear the longer he peered.

It was a kid. He was sitting up, ramrod straight. In typical Tim fashion, small enough for Jason to miscalculate what he was seeing for a moment. But he was staring straight ahead, eyes blown wide, fingers clinging to his linens like his life depended on it. And now that Jason was listening, he could hear Tim’s breathing. Fast and ragged and scared . 

Oh.

Jason was all too familiar with nightmares. He just hadn’t realized Tim got them. 

“Tim?” he called again as he pushed his way into the room, finally seeming to get the younger boy’s attention as he turned tear-filled eyes in his direction. “You ok…?”

The kid took a moment to process, then hastily sniffled and nodded, turning his face away again so he could wipe at his eyes. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! I’m sleeping!” Tim tried to roll back over and tuck his blankets around himself again, but Jason was no fool to the way he kept his back to him, trying to hide the fear and pain Jason had already seen behind his eyes. And the older boy was no stranger to how long it would take for the kid’s shoulders to stop quivering and actually be able to drift back to sleep. 

“Ok…” he started, turning back for the door. “Stay right there, I’ll be back.”

He bolted out of the room and padded back down the hall to his own room, grabbing his favorite book and running back to Tim’s room, only slowing down when he got to the edge of the kid’s bed. 

“Alright, move over,” he ordered him, shoving the pile of kid and blankets a foot or two over while he said it and climbing up onto the bed himself. 

Tim squeaked and twisted to look up at Jason from behind his shelter of a pillow and comforter, but Jason paid him no mind. Instead, he pulled the cord to the bedside lamp, set a pillow between his back and the headboard, and opened his book. 

“Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 1, In Want of A Wife.”

Tim was still staring at him as he started the chapter, but Jason pretended not to notice. Likewise, he pretended not to notice when Tim started to relax. Or when the kid shifted to be closer to the older boy, his head almost touching Jason’s leg. And when his breathing finally evened out again, three chapters later, Jason put a ribbon between the pages and pretended not to notice he left the book behind. 

Chapter Text

Tim swung his legs under his chair, but only just a little. Mother would have his head if she ever caught him doing something so childish as swinging his legs. Especially at school. But he’d been sitting in the same too-high chair for the last 48 minutes and he couldn’t take it anymore. 2 more minutes and he could go find Jason and eat lunch and do homework outside where they could find a chair more his size and he wouldn’t have to worry about it being so uncomfortable, but until then… 

He groaned, but kept the sound inside his head. Mother would not be happy if he were so obviously rude during class… 

1 more minute.

He tried to keep his eyes on his paper to at least pretend he was paying attention and doing his work. He just had to keep up the façade until class ended, then he could get out of the stuffy room of bigger kids who looked down on him—if they ever looked at him at all. 

Finally the bell rang and Tim had to restrain himself from bolting out of his chair. He slid down properly, gathered his books and homework, slid them into his backpack like a gentleman, dragged the bag onto his back, and walked out the door. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he got to the hall, even if it was only the hall. Anything was better than that stuffy classroom. And now he could go find Jason. It was Tuesday, so the older boy should be coming from his science lab which was, thankfully, just down the hall from Tim’s math class. So he started that direction. 

Only Jason wasn’t coming to meet him halfway like he normally did…

Tim frowned and kept down the hall, swerving between kids like he was learning to do with chimneys and elevator shafts. It wasn’t all that different, really. It was just that the kids were moving, but they were easy enough to predict. As long as they weren’t looking at him, they wouldn’t see him and would have no reason to adjust their course. Thus, they hardly counted as moving at all. It was the ones who saw him that he had to watch out for. Those ones might adjust course. 

But they almost never saw him, so it was ok.

He smiled quietly as he made it to the door to the science lab a whole three seconds earlier than last time. Jason would be–

Tim stopped in his tracks as he caught a glimpse inside the classroom. There was no teacher, must have stepped out for a moment or something. And most of the kids had already filed out. But there were four still in the classroom. Three gathered around the fourth as the kid tried to gather his homework. But the three kept snatching the papers out of his hand, passing them around, or reading them and laughing as they held them out of reach, taunting the kid who appeared smaller and weaker. 

Tim knew for a fact Jason could take all three boys in a matter of seconds, they’d never even know what hit them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk his identity. So he just stood there and took it, tried to get his homework back as they called him a teacher’s pet. And Tim saw red. 

He spun on his heel, bolted ten feet down the hall, and ducked into the janitor’s closet. Then he grabbed his backpack off his shoulders and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor. Mother would be ashamed if she knew, but Mother wasn’t here, no one could see him, and Jason needed help. 

He yanked his laptop out of his bag and flopped down on the floor, balancing the device on his knees as he opened it up and immediately got to work. 

Three bullies, right next door. How hard could it be? 

All he had to do was find their devices and get in. He’d been doing that for fun when his parents took him to DI for the last two years. It wasn’t even hard anymore. 

Now he just had to figure out how to get them to leave his Robin alone… 

He smirked as he saw a “Nana” listed in one of the boy’s contact list. 

Perfect.

He pressed call, then shifted to the other two, finding contacts for Grammy and Mommy and pressing call on those too. 

His smirk turned to an evil grin as all three calls connected at nearly the same time. He could hear the confusion in the ladies’ voices for several moments before they heard what was going on and started shouting through the speakers so close to simultaneously he was comical. One of the boys must have heard it as his voice came over the call, hurried and frantic as he tried to explain what his grandmother had just overheard. Soon after, the other two boys put their phones to their ears and started searching for excuses. 

Perfect. 

Agent T closed his laptop, stuffed it back in his bag, hefted it over his shoulder once again, and walked out of the janitor’s closet. His work here was done. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled into the garage and got out of his car. It’d been another long day and he only just made it in time to not be late for dinner. Board meeting had run late for stupid reasons yet again. Some guy named Johnson had proposed shutting all the blinds in the building as punishment if deadlines weren’t met. He called it “removing outside distractions” but everyone knew what he meant. It shouldn’t have taken that long to shut him down. 

Whatever, it was over, Bruce was finally home, he could spend the evening with his kids and Alfred and get some training time in before patrol tonight, he could forget about Johnson and move on for now.

He got out of the car and breathed deeply, taking in the familiar scents of home before starting inside. He made a quick detour to his study to drop off his briefcase and shed his suit jacket and shoes before making his way to the dinning room where all three of his boys were already waiting. Dick and Tim were caught up in some sort of card game Dick had just taught the boy and Jason was finishing up setting the Table with Alfred. 

Yeah. Bruce was home. He could forget about the office. 

He smiled as he sat down and Dick and Tim left their game and raced to the other side of the table to join him, Dick clearly slowing down to give the boy a chance. Tim, for his part, looked aghast at the insult and Dick just giggled, shrugging his shoulders in response as he whispered something about teaching him to do a flip later. Tim looked awestruck at the suggestion and Dick just grinned. 

Jason sat down a moment later and Alfred brought out the lasagna he’d made them, quickly disappearing into the kitchen again as they all dug in. Bruce had long since given up trying to get Alfred to join them, but maybe one of these days one of the boys would be able to convince him. Until then, the food was as good as always and he was going to enjoy it with his sons. 

One of whom was staring at his lasagna as he slowly forked it into his mouth. Of all his sons, Jason never ate slowly. 

“Jaylad?” Bruce tried to keep his tone light and the worry out of his voice. “How was your day?”

Jason looked up for a moment and met Bruce’s eyes. He put down his fork and laced his fingers together, staring off into the distance over the top of his hands. 

“Confusing.” 

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. There was definitely a story there. 

“Oh? What happened?”

Jason narrowed his eyes for a brief moment as something shifted at the other side of the table, but Bruce paid it no mind. 

“Well I was cleaning up after 4th period, right?”

Bruce nodded, taking a moment to remember what Jason’s 4th period class was before he could envision the classroom and the scene. 

“And then Ms. Collins had to step out for a minute but we were supposed to be leaving class anyway so she thought it would be fine. Except it wasn’t. So then Dominic, Trey, and Luke came over to pick on me and I didn’t fight back because you know, secret identities—”

Here, Jason rolled his eyes, but Bruce was still caught on how easily Jason admitted to being bullied like it was normal. He’d never mentioned it before. Bruce had no idea. He’d have to talk to him later about what was going on and what he could do about it without giving away their identities. Bruce couldn’t believe the boy had just been sucking it up to protect their family, there was more than one way to deal with bullies. And if all else failed, no one would question a kid from Crime Alley knowing how to throw a punch. 

But Jason was still talking. 

“—and I don’t get it! All three of them just happened to butt dial their moms or grandmas at the exact same time?! It doesn’t make any sense , Bruce! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining that they got chewed out, but it doesn’t make any sense!” 

Bruce frowned, piecing together the missing section of the story from the last part. So his son’s bullying had been stopped because his bullies’ phones had somehow rang the important women in their life. That was… Odd. To say the least. 

Nothing in their line of work just happened.

Dick hummed, his chin resting on the back of his hand as he did. Bruce knew that look. Dick had something. 

“I do wonder…” Dick started, shifting so he was facing Tim. “Where was Tim when this happened?” He pinned the young boy with a look as he asked the question and Tim started squirming, almost like he was trying to get away from that look but he had nowhere to go. 

Bruce narrowed his eyes as he realized what the shifting he’d heard a moment before must have been. 

Jason, too, looked like he was starting to put the pieces together. 

“Tim was outside waiting where we usually eat lunch…” Jason frowned as a thought must have occurred to him. “Or at least he was by the time I got there. But he usually meets me halfway.”

Tim was squirming even more now and Bruce was fairly certain the boy would hide under the table if he didn’t know all three of them would just crawl under there with him. Bruce had never seen the boy look so guilty. 

Bruce just started laughing. It only took a moment before Jason and Dick joined in, the entire situation far too comical for any other reaction. Bruce could talk to Jason about the bullying later, but for now, he was glad Jason had Tim looking out for him. 

“That was brilliant, Tim,” he wheezed as best he could, holding out a hand for the young boy to high five, which he hesitantly did. “Absolutely brilliant.” Bruce grinned proudly at him, and Tim actually started to smile back. Small victories. “Alfred been teaching you how to hack then?”

Tim’s face shifted back to something closer to caught red handed and completely gilding and Bruce wasn’t quite sure why. He didn’t answer, but Alfred spoke up from behind him. 

“Hardly, Master Bruce,” the man set another lasagna down on the table, fully anticipating the household of vigilantes and teen boys would devour the first one. “I have been helping him enhance his skills but Master Tim was quite proficient long before I caught him.” 

Bruce huffed, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. The boy was just full of surprises, apparently. Seven years old and already a skilled enough hacker to… 

Wait. 

Wait.

Bruce froze, memories of a case two months ago flashing through his mind. An Arkham breakout that was never a breakout at all. A news article that claimed Two-Face had escaped and had hostages. Bruce had hurried to check it out only to find nothing. There was no break out, there were no hostages, someone had clearly wanted him distracted and he didn’t know why. He could never figure it out. He looked into the news article only to discover the site had been hacked. Every time he tried to trace the hack he reached a dead end. It always appeared the hack had come from Bristol, but that seemed to suggest someone wanted him away from home. And thus knew where home was. Only nothing had come of it. No threat ever showed, no one was ever hurt in any way. 

But hadn’t Tim snuck out of bed that night…? 

And hadn’t they never figured out where he’d gone…? 

And the boy had known about them, even back then. He’d had access to the Batcave, though none of them knew it at the time. 

“The fake Two-Face hostage article…” Bruce nearly whispered, staring at the boy in awe. The boy who somehow looked even more guilty at the mention. “That was you?”

Tim’s eyes went wide and Bruce could swear he saw the boy flinch, but if he did he hid it well as he nodded slowly. 

Bruce couldn’t take it anymore. He busted up laughing for the second time that night. Tim was… Tim was something else. And he couldn’t believe the boy just fell into their laps like he did. 

“Timothy Drake,” Bruce wiped a tear from his eye, struggling to keep his voice even through the laughter. “You are one incredible kid.”

Tim finally broke, grinning even as he blushed and shrank down in his chair to hide from all the attention. 

Chapter Text

Dick hummed to himself as he hit the light switch to the wine cellar and took a few steps into the room. Now, let’s see… Alfred had asked him to run down and grab a specific cabernet from 1997. Everything was sorted by type and then general timeline so all he had to do was find the section of cabernets and then locate the right year. Couldn’t be that hard. 

Right, there was the row with the right bottles all at the edge of the shelf near the bottom. Wouldn’t even take him three minutes. 

His humming turned to whistling as he pulled out a bottle, checked the date, put it back and pulled another one. Third try and he got it, one of the bottles on the very bottom shelf. He smiled to himself in victory as he pulled it all the way out of its slot and moved to stand up before pausing. There was something under the shelf, the view blocked by the bottle until he’d pulled it out of the way. Even now, only the white corner was visible, but there was definitely something that didn’t look like it belonged in a wine cellar. 

Dick frowned, bending down to better see under the shelves. Whatever it was was flat, white, rather shiny, and only a few inches square. It looked like the back of a developed photograph, but the only one in this family who was really into photos was Tim. …wait, hadn’t Bruce mentioned he found Tim in the wine cellar developing photos some weeks ago? Tim must have dropped it while he was doing so and hadn’t noticed. It was completely covered before Dick removed the bottle anyway so it wasn’t so hard to believe Tim hadn’t realized it was there.

Dick shrugged, satisfied enough with that answer and reached to pick up the photograph, flipping it over in his hand, only to freeze as he saw the contents of the photo. It was… It was a picture of him. Not him, but Nightwing. He was upside-down, mid flip, his escrima in hand, sparks of electricity visibly lighting up the sticks and illuminating his body. It was a stark contrast to the dark tower behind him or the two brick buildings he was jumping between, all three buildings perfectly framing him in the photo. It was… It was breathtaking, actually. Dick was keeping this forever. 

But then again… The angle of the photo suggested the photographer had been atop a neighboring building—or at least a fire escape. Somewhere high. And the lighting made it clear it was late in the night or early morning. If Tim took this… How exactly had he…? 

Dick froze again, his eyes locked on a wine bottle but not really seeing it. His mind was racing back to a night right after the baby bird had been kidnapped that time. When they’d snuck trackers on him and he hadn’t noticed them yet. Presumably before Alfred found out he knew. Tim had snuck out that night. And Dick… Dick had found him hiding behind a gargoyle near the top of a roof. And the baby bird had been clutching a camera. Up until he realized he’d been caught and tried to hide the evidence, looking guilty. 

Tim had been photographing them.

Dick grabbed the bottle of cabernet and bolted out of the cellar, barely remembering to turn off the lights and shut the door on his way out. He dropped the bottle off in the kitchen for Alfred to find and then raced up the stairs to the hall that held their bedrooms. He barely stopped himself before bursting into Tim’s room, instead forcing himself to knock and waiting for the quiet “Come in!” to reach his ears. 

He pushed the door open then, immediately catching sight of the baby bird sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer on something that looked like an English paper. 

“Tim…” Dick almost whispered, in shock or awe, he couldn’t tell. 

Whatever it was, Tim noticed instantly that something was off and snapped his head toward Dick, his eyes already wide. 

“Tim, I found something,” Dick started, forcing his feet to move and cover the distance to the baby bird as he held his hand out with the photograph. “In the wine cellar.”

Tim paled at the words, his eyes locked on the photo, no doubt wondering how damning the evidence was. By the time he made out the subject of the photo, his eyes couldn’t get much wider. He was cooked and he knew it. 

“That… That isn’t mine!” Tim tried to defend himself, but he was far too panicked for it to be believable. 

Dick just laughed softly, knowing Tim relaxed at softer, lighter sounds. 

“Oh Baby Bird, I’m not mad at you.” Dick smiled, hoping it would help ease his baby brother. “It’s really really good! I wanna keep it, actually…”

Tim froze, looking up at Dick, eyes wide for a whole different reason. 

“...may I?” Dick asked, hopeful. He really wanted to get the photographer’s signature and frame it. 

Tim was quiet for several moments as Dick held his breath, then, slowly, he nodded, and Dick grinned. 

“Thank you!” he bounced, admiring his picture again before turning back to the baby bird. “But Tim…?”

Tim froze again, sensing the shift in tone. 

“Next time you want to take pictures in Gotham… Please can you just ask? Don’t go out alone like that, it’s dangerous. We’ll take you with us, ok?” 

Dick wasn’t stupid enough to think that just telling the baby bird would get him to stop. He had to give him an outlet or his hobby would probably get himself killed. 

Tim looked back up at him, awe strewn through his features. “We could…?” he asked and the tentativeness in his voice made something in Dick break a little.

“Yeah, Baby Bird,” Dick smiled softly. “You’re really good at photography, I’d love to take you out for a photoshoot. And I’m sure Bruce and Jay would too, if you want to–”

“No!” Tim cut him off, eyes wide once again. Then he seemed to realize what he’d done and just shook his head, voice going calmer. “No thank you, Dick. Can we… Please not tell anyone…?”

Dick softened but nodded, tucking his photo into a pocket where it could be just his for now. “Yeah, we don’t have to tell them. But maybe we can tell them about your photography?”

Tim looked relieved for a moment, then confused a moment later. So Dick went on. 

“Have you got those pictures from the garden developed yet?”

Slowly, softly, Tim smiled, opening a drawer in his desk to retrieve the photos.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce paused as he passed the main sitting room on his way to his study, standing in the doorway for a moment while he watched his father and son run through a scene from Shakespeare together, though Bruce couldn’t quite place which play it was from. Alfred spared him a glance and a half nod, just enough to acknowledge his presence but not enough to break character as he continued on with his grandson. 

Bruce pulled out his phone to snap a picture before hurrying away, vowing to be back after he’d put away his briefcase and changed out of his suit. It only took him a few minutes, but by the time he made it back to the sitting room, Alfred and Jason had moved on from their scene, Alfred now giving the young boy pointers on his accent and the cadence which he needed to speak in to perform Shakespeare. Bruce was mildly disappointed he missed the performance, but still, he smiled as he watched Jason hang off every word the older man told him, even practicing a few lines to get more feedback. 

Bruce stepped quietly into the room, taking a seat in his chair and picking up the book he’d left there, opening it up to the spot he’d left his bookmark. Perhaps, if he was quiet, they might return to their performance and run through the scene again. Bruce might even be able to pick out which play they were acting. 

Though another five minutes revealed he’d have to wait for another afternoon. He could hear pounding through the halls as his oldest and youngest came barreling into the room. 

“Hey guys, look what Tim did!” Dick grinned wide as he front flipped over the back of the couch, landing perfectly in the center where they could all gather around him. He held a large handful of what looked like photographs, which he proceeded to spread out on the coffee table in front of him. Tim was trailing behind, looking embarrassed, but hesitantly proud. 

Jason and Alfred had already paused in their lessons and leaned over the coffee table by the time Bruce set his book aside and stood, walking over to stand beside the couch, behind Tim. And yes, spread all across the small table were photographs, most of their garden somewhere between dusk and early night. It was late May already so most of the flowers were in full bloom and the photographer had taken full advantage. Some of the shots he had used the flowers as the backdrop, some they were the main focus, others they were framing something else, usually a bug or something in the distance. All the shots were remarkably clear and used the lights in the garden perfectly to enhance the rest of the scene.

Somewhere to his left, Jason gasped in awe, shifting to sit on the couch where he could get a better look. 

Alfred, too, seemed impressed as even he shifted to take Dick’s other side. 

“My my…” The older gentleman started the praise, picking up one of the best ones to admire. “These are exquisite, master Tim.” 

Bruce couldn’t see Tim’s face from where he stood behind the boy, but from the way he shifted, Bruce knew he was blushing and proud. 

Bruce shifted to get closer, but right as he did, the doorbell rang. Odd that it would ring through the whole house, but seeing as Alfred was here with them, he wouldn’t have heard whatever system he had set up to ring him in the kitchen directly. 

The older gentleman immediately made a motion to stand, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll get it, Alfred.”

Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but Bruce cut him off before he could, well aware he was going to try.

“I’m sure Tim would love to get some feedback from a man of taste.”

Bruce had taste, sure, but he had nothing compared to Alfred’s love of the arts. The older gentleman conceded, shifting back into the couch to pick up another photograph and shower the young boy with praise. A glance back at Tim proved he was reveling in it, as embarrassed as he was. 

Bruce smiled and silently shifted from the room, making his way toward the front door. More than likely, it was just a package that needed a signature and he’d be right back. 

He took a brief moment to pause by the massive doors and gather his Brucie Wayne persona around him like a familiar blanket. Then, he swung the door open, ready to meet the delivery man with a charming smile and an air-head greeting. 

But the greeting died on his lips as he stared at the figure in front of him, his entire world screeching to a halt. 

“Jack.”

Chapter Text

“Jack.”

Breathe. He needed to breathe. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. Repeat. Focus. Get it together. He was Batman, he shouldn’t be this thrown by the presence of a single, harmless man. 

A harmless man with the power to take–

No. Breathe. Focus. He could… He had to breathe.

“Bruce,” the other man started, his face blank yet the confusion clear across his features. “Thank you for watching my son.”

His son. 

His son.

Tim wasn’t theirs. He never had been. Jack was always going to come back. He was always going to take him home. Tim was never theirs. He was never going to stay forever. Bruce had agreed to watch the boy for the Drakes, just this once.  

That was the deal, right? They’d take care of Tim while the Drakes were out of town and couldn’t take Tim with. 

It was never forever.

It was always, only, just this once.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this helpless since that night in the alley almost twenty years ago. He wanted to scream just like he’d done then. To curse out the universe for taking something so dear to him. For taking some one so dear to him. 

He wanted to hit Jack. To tell him exactly where he could shove it. But that wasn’t fair. Tim was Jack’s son. Not his. He was Timothy Drake, not Timothy Wayne. Not theirs. Tim would be excited to see his parents again, he’d want to go home. To his home. With his family. Not them. 

He was never theirs to keep.

It was only ever just this once.

“Bruce?” Jack looked worried now, eyebrows knit together. “Bruce, are you alright?” 

Bruce had no idea how many times the other man had asked that question before it registered.

“Right, yes, forgive me,” Bruce laughed it off, using the gesture to force the air back into his lungs as he smacked his forehead for added effect. He had to let Brucie take over. He had no other choice. If Bruce or Batman were in control right now… Bruce didn’t want to know what would happen. He didn’t want to know how much blood there may end up being. How much of Tim’s father’s blood would end up on their floor. Bruce couldn’t afford to hurt his so— Tim like that.  “Please, come in.”

Jack nodded, stepping in as Bruce stepped out of the way and closed the door behind him.

“Timothy wasn’t any trouble, was he?” the other man laughed, but it felt off. Though Bruce couldn’t focus enough to figure out why. With how much the room seemed to be spinning, it was a wonder he was still standing.

“Oh no, none at all! Tim was wonderful! We’d love to have him again, anytime!”

Anytime, for as long as he wanted, forever even. 

Tim would always be welcome back home.

But Bruce couldn’t say that. This wasn’t Tim’s home. Not anymore. 

“We were just in the sitting room,” he found himself saying instead. “We weren’t expecting you back yet so I’m sure he’ll need some time to pack…”

Time to say goodbye…

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll join you in the sitting room then.”

Bruce swallowed. That hadn’t been what he meant. He didn’t want to spend his last few moments with his—with Tim while Bruce was stuck in his Brucie persona, but it didn’t make any sense to leave Jack alone in the big foyer with no couches or comfortable chairs. He’d just… He’d have to come with, then. 

“Great idea!” Bruce wanted to gag with how cheerful he sounded, but he held it in, already starting down the hall so he could turn his back on the other man. So he could hide his eyes from… “It’s right this way, Jack!” He made sure his voice was loud, echoing through the hall. He couldn’t give his family much warning, but he could give them some. A few seconds at least. And he made sure his footsteps were loud enough they could hear him coming. Maybe… Just maybe… They wouldn’t be caught as off guard as he was…

Bruce rounded the door to the sitting room and came face to face with four pairs of eyes staring at him in shock. 

Clearly the warning didn’t help much…

Jack walked up a moment or two behind him and all eyes locked on the other man. 

“Tim,” Bruce started, drawing the boy’s attention and already hating himself for the words he was about to say. “Your parents are home, you’ll need to…” he trailed off, his mouth dry. But Jack was right behind him. Jack was already shifting and Bruce could feel his confusion. “Run upstairs and pack your stuff, ok?”

Tim only hesitated a moment before responding, his voice even and sure of himself, the familiar Bristol accent Bruce heard at so many parties rolling off his tongue like it had always been there. 

“Yes sir.”

Tim walked out of the room, leaving Bruce reeling in shock. What was it about Jack’s presence that made Tim change so dramatically? Maybe… Maybe Jack was one of those parents who thought a child should never be on a first name basis with an adult? That had to be it, right? It had to be. Bruce couldn’t trust his judgement right now. He didn’t think he’d ever hated a man more than he hated Jack Drake right now.

“We um…” Dick pulled his attention, swallowing as he tried to get his thoughts together. “We’ll go help him, right Jason?” He turned to his older little brother— no, his little brother. That was just his little brother. He turned to his little brother and elbowed him in the side, which Jason responded to in almost as much of a daze as Bruce felt. Both boys stood and all but ran out of the room and after Tim, Dick with his eyes on the floor and his feet but Jason… Jason just glared Jack down as he passed. Bruce might… Bruce might need to talk to him about etiquette with company later… But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not right now. Not with Jack.

“Please, come sit down,” Bruce offered his target guest as he stepped into the room, taking his chair and gesturing to the chair across from him. 

Jack took it and Bruce looked around the room, catching sight of Alfred standing by the servant’s door that led back to the kitchen. Bruce couldn’t remember when he moved from the couch. 

“I’ll fetch you both some tea,” the older gentleman excused himself, turning to leave, but Jack stopped him. 

“Coffee for me, Butler.”

Bruce was going to strangle this man.

Alfred paused, but didn’t react. Instead he just nodded, responded with an “Of course, sir.” and was gone before Bruce’s mind could really keep up. Before he knew it, he was alone with Jack again. He would have to somehow find a way to entertain their intruder. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason all but ran up the stairs after Dick, careful to keep Tim’s stack of photos held tight. The kid had started panicking even before Bruce had said Jack’s name. Somehow, Tim knew the man was there before any of the rest of them. Even Alfred had been confused. Tim just started grabbing all the photos as fast as he could and Jason didn’t question it, helping him gather them up and hiding them behind his leg for the kid. Just in time, too. Bruce and Jack came into view right as he did. 

Jason didn’t know why, but clearly Tim didn’t want his dad to know about his hobby. Frankly, Jason didn’t care why. There wasn’t a good reason. And all of the bad ones were Jack Drake's fault.

So he glared on his way out. 

And smirked after his back was turned and Mr. Drake couldn’t see him. The man had actually shifted uncomfortably and for a member of Gotham’s elite who was supposed to be good at hiding all their emotions, Jason was proud. 

But that wasn’t the point right now, was it?

Tim had to pack. 

And… They had to say goodbye. 

Jack Drake wasn’t here to make Tim more embarrassed about his hobby, he was here to take the kid away from them. 

They’d always known it was coming, but somehow… Somehow it seemed so far away. It seemed like his parents were just… Never going to get back. Or they’d at least have some warning first. But apparently not. 

There had to be another way, right? Tim was part of their family now, they couldn’t just let him walk away, could they? 

But… He was one of the Drakes… The Drakes were their next door neighbors. Tim could come visit them whenever he wanted. And they could go visit him if his parents wouldn’t let him go. 

If…if his parents let him hang out with Bruce Wayne’s street rat… 

Jason swiped at his eyes, masking his hurt with anger at the Drake parents, vowing to get Tim back, one way or another. As long as the kid wanted to hang out with them, Jason would do anything he needed to to make sure it happened. He was Robin, what were they going to do, lock him out? 

Fat chance…

There was no way the Drakes had a better security system than Batman and Jason could sneak in and out of his own house just fine. So take that. They wouldn’t be able to keep them apart no matter what. 

…right?

Jason swallowed, running the rest of the way down the hall to Tim’s room, only to find the kid already standing there with his backpack hanging off his too small shoulders, fussing over the clothes he didn’t have room for. 

Dick was talking to him, but Jason wasn’t really listening. Something about not worrying about the clothes they’d bought for him, that he could just leave them here for the next time he visits. 

All Jason could see was the confusion in Tim’s face at the statement. Like he didn’t think he’d be back. 

Jason wanted to shake him until he saw how much he meant to them. For the smartest person Jason had ever met, Tim was so stupid sometimes. Jason needed the kid to see how much they wanted him, needed him, life just wasn’t going to be the same without him. 

But… Jason at least would get to see the kid at school. He could still eat lunch with him. Maybe he could convince him to come over in the afternoons. Or maybe they could carpool or something. 

No, that wouldn’t work, his parents wouldn’t care about saving money…

Maybe they could…

“Can I give you a hug goodbye?”

Jason zeroed in on the conversation, watching as Tim hesitated, but finally, for the first time in months, relented, and gave a very small nod. 

Jason knew his brother. And he knew it was all Dick could do to keep himself from crushing the kid. Instead, Dick closed the distance slowly, wrapping his arms around the kid, gentle, but as tight as he could without squeezing his guts out. 

For just a moment, it almost looked like Tim would accept it, but then he pulled away. And Dick let him. 

Tim shifted then, walking passed Dick and heading toward Jason and the door. Jason froze for a minute, before remembering the stack of photos in his hands and holding those out for the kid. Tim paused, but shifted his backpack off his shoulders so he could take the stack from Jason and put them into his bag. Then just like that, the bag was back on his shoulders and Tim was ready to go. 

It was too soon. 

They had to…

Somehow… 

Jason spread his arms, unable to find the strength to speak, and Tim stepped closer with a small nod. That was all Jason needed. 

He moved forward and pulled the kid into a hug, holding him for as long as Tim would let him. 

And if there were a few drops of saltwater in Tim’s hair by the time the kid pulled away, well… Jason wasn’t going to mention it. 

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment before Tim finally broke the silence. 

“Thank you.” His voice was back to that stupid accent he was using earlier and Jason wanted to deck both his parents. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“Of course, Baby Bird…” Dick whispered, and Jason could see a tear rolling down Dick's cheek as well. “Come back and visit, ok?”

Tim smiled just a little, but didn’t really answer. 

Jason still couldn’t find his voice. But he nodded his agreement, and Tim smiled a little bigger. With that, the kid walked out of the room, silent as a ghost, leaving Dick and Jason to trail behind him. 

They followed him back to the sitting room, where Jack wasted no time getting up to leave the second he saw his son. 

Huh. Maybe Bruce punched him. 

Unlikely, but Jason could hope. 

“Come on, Timothy,” Jack was saying as he made his way out of the room, pointedly ignoring Jason’s glare. “Your mother is waiting for us.”

Tim followed along behind him like an obedient duckling, all the way to the front doors and then… 

And then out. 

Jason couldn’t stop it. He could barely even process it. 

He stood in the doorway with Bruce and Dick and Alfred, not quite sure he remembered how they all got there. 

Tim got into the car with his father and their driver started moving. 

Jason couldn’t look away. 

He waved, but he couldn’t see any sign of anyone waving back. 

And just like that. 

Tim was gone. 

Chapter Text

Dick stood in the doorway to the manor, staring out at an empty drive. Tim was gone. His baby bird was gone. There was no fanfare, no warning. Just… One moment he was praising the baby bird for the hobby he didn’t seem to know he was any good at, and the next moment… 

His baby bird was gone.

The first time Tim had actually let Dick give him a hug and now he was just…

Bruce shifted beside him, mumbling something about how they needed to move, stop standing in the doorway like they were. Maybe Alfred needed help with dinner or they probably had homework. Dick couldn’t even remember what day it was, no less what homework he had due tomorrow. College could wait. It… It had to. There was no way he’d be able to focus. Besides, wasn’t there some sort of clause about family emergencies? Or bereavement? This had to count as bereavement, right? 

People were moving around him, the door was closing, but Dick still couldn’t get his eyes to move. Locked where he’d last seen his baby bird’s car disappear down the drive and—

Bruce’s hand was on his shoulder, the door shut now. Bruce was saying something, but Dick couldn’t really make out what. 

He wanted to march down to Drake manor and… And then… 

He swallowed, shrugging Bruce’s hand off his shoulder as he headed toward the study. Bruce knew better than to try to stop him. 

He needed to hit something. Hard.

He made his way through the study, then down into the cave, stripping his school clothes as he went. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the bench by the mats and pulled them on without thinking, then paused as his hand hovered over his training escrima. 

No. Not this time. 

He grabbed a couple wraps instead, barely taking the time to wrap his knuckles properly before he stalked over to the cave’s heavy bag, glaring it down like it had been the one to take his brother. 

He dropped into a fighting stance—so second nature it felt like walking down the street or flying on a trapeze—then put every muscle he had into a punch to break concrete. The bag swung under the force and Dick shifted forward to hit it again, then sidestepped on the backswing as he slammed it with a roundhouse kick. 

He’d barely even had a chance to say goodbye… 

Three more punches, then another kick, followed by a spinning heel kick.

His baby bird had packed up so fast, it was like…

Dick blinked back the angry tears from his eyes, focusing on the bag in front of him as he delivered four more blows. 

It was almost like he didn’t even want to stay…

A front kick, then a roundhouse knee as it swung back toward him, then he flipped over himself to land another back heel kick. 

It didn’t seem like he knew they wanted him… 

Two more punches, another kick. 

Three months with them and the baby bird didn’t even know he was wanted…

Dick screamed, listening to the echoes through the cave as he gave everything he had to the bag in front of him, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face and torso. 

Three months and he didn’t even…

How could he have failed so spectacularly?

He just needed more time…

He slammed another punch into the bag, channeling every ounce of his strength behind it as he imagined it was the man who seemed so relaxed about taking his baby brother from them. 

He just needed more time…

Dick had no idea how long he had been down there by the time he finally collapsed to his knees, leaning his head against the bag as he choked back a sob. Even despite the wraps on his hands, he could feel the blood seeping through his fingers. 

He just… He just needed… 

He grabbed the jeans he’d shed from the edge of the mat and pulled the photo out of the pocket. He’d never even gotten Tim to sign it. He thought they’d have more time. 

He just needed more time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim tried not to flinch as the last door closed and their driver—Frank Hudson, but Dad just called him Hudson—started the engine. They were pulling out of Wayne manor and Tim… Tim didn’t know how to feel. 

His parents were home. He always looked forward to them getting home, that meant family outings and maybe even a present brought back from wherever they went if he’d been good. Family outings were always the best, even if they never went to the circus again. That was ok, anyway. He still had nightmares about the circus… 

But family outings were fun! Maybe they’d go to the zoo this time, there was a new deep sea exhibit he really wanted to see. They were bringing an octopus in for the summer! Tim loved octopi, he’d always wanted to see one in person. Maybe, just maybe… 

“You made certain you weren’t any trouble, right, Timothy?” 

Tim flinched, but masked it by looking up at his father instead. Dad didn’t like it when he flinched. He just scared him, that was all. 

Dad raised an eyebrow and Tim paused to remember the question. 

Had he caused the Waynes any trouble…? 

He thought about all the times they fussed over him, making sure he had food and went to bed on time. All the times they brought him into the cave to train or snuck him out without telling Bruce and Alfred. Or that time they had to rescue him when he was stupid enough to get kidnapped. All the times Dick played with him or Jason helped him with homework or they pulled him into movie nights with them and gave him ice cream… 

Dad’s words from months ago were still ringing through his head. 

You won’t even know he’s there.

No, he’d failed that. They knew he was there. So many times, they knew he was there. 

But Dad was waiting for an answer. And he didn’t like it when Tim lied. Or took too long. 

“No sir,” Tim hung his head and waited for his dad to start yelling. He didn’t call it yelling. He called it “raising his voice”. But it felt the same. 

This time though, his father just hummed, and Tim could tell that his lips were pursed even without looking at him. 

“Well you’d best be grateful Mr. Wayne didn’t think so.”

Tim snapped his head up at that, staring wide eyed. Bruce didn’t think so? They had had to get after him so many times, he definitely wasn’t seen and not heard like Mother always told him, but Bruce didn’t think he’d been a problem? 

Tim almost started to smile before Dad cut him off with a look. 

“Do not show your emotions, Son,” he stared him down, and Tim had to fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Keep everything in check or they will use it against you.” 

Tim swallowed and nodded, obediently turning to face forward in his seat, waiting until they got home. 

“Yes sir.” 

Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfred didn’t think so. They smiled and laughed all the time. And they almost seemed to like it when he did. It was… Nice. Not having to worry about what his face looked like all the time. But Mom and Dad were right. He couldn’t let his feelings show or they’d use it against him. He had to be better than that. Even Mom and Dad would use it against him. 

But the Waynes wouldn’t…

Tim silenced that thought before it could go any further. The Waynes were Batman and Nightwing and Robin and Agent A. They weren’t normal. And if anyone wanted to use their emotions against them, they could fight it. Tim had to run his parents’ company someday. He couldn’t afford to let them see his weaknesses. 

He let out a breath as he glanced out the window, watching the Drake estate pass by him on the way up to their manor. 

It’d been nice. While it lasted. Staying with the Waynes. His heroes. He’d gotten some really cool pictures to add to his collection—hidden well, way in the furthest part of the manor where Mom and Dad would never find it. And he’d even been able to help Agent A, saved Dick from getting blown up and saved Jason from bullies. It’d been nice. Amazing, actually. His favorite memories ever. 

He wanted to smile, but Dad was right there. Dad would see it. He’d have to wait until he got to bed tonight. Then he could smile as he remembered all the good things. Even if it was over now, it was good. And he was happy. 

He never thought he’d get a chance to meet his heroes, and he had gotten to work with them. For more time than he had ever even dared to dream.

The car pulled to a stop by the front doors and Tim took a deep breath, properly waiting for Hudson to open his door for him so he could go inside and greet his mother. She’d be tired after such a long trip, he’d need to be careful not to make her angry. But she was home. Dad was home. And Tim just had the best months of his life. 

Even if it didn’t last, for now he was happy.

Chapter Text

Four more minutes. 

Jason bounced his foot on the floor, trying not to stare at the clock. Four more minutes until lunch and then he could hunt the kid down. He hadn’t been able to catch him before school started or between any classes. Which wasn’t unusual, their classes weren’t usually anywhere near each other unless it was Tuesdays or Thursdays when Jason had science lab during fourth period. It was Friday though so he was in regular science class. Tim would be halfway across the school. But Tim had Jason’s schedule memorized just as much as Jason had his schedule memorized. They’d meet halfway between their last classes and then go to their spot outside and eat lunch. Just like always. Tim’s parents showing up last night to take him home didn’t change anything. 

Right? 

Jason scowled at his homework, keeping his head down so Mrs. Jones wouldn’t see him and think it was directed at her. He liked Mrs. Jones, he didn’t want to hurt her. He just had to get through this class so he could go find his baby brother. And make sure the kid knew nothing was changing. Ever. 

It felt like an eternity before the bell finally rang but Jason was out of his seat with his stuff packed before it finished its last chime. First one out the door, then down the hall, making a beeline for Tim’s math classroom, all the way on the other side of the school. Well, actually, it was just a hall down and then the end of that hall, but it felt like the other side of the school and for the time it took him to weave through the crowds, it might have well been. 

Halfway there and there was no sign of the floofy haired seven-year-old. 

Jason tried not to let his anxiety show, not sure what would keep Tim away from their lunch dates, but it couldn’t be good. Tim needed to know everything was still normal… Jason had to find him.

He kept going, finally skidding to a stop outside Tim’s math classroom only to find it empty save for his teacher. The balding man looked up at Jason without a single worry in his features, then nodded just slightly, almost like he’d expected to see him. 

“Ah, Mr. Drake!” 

Jason froze, fighting the urge to spin around and deck whoever might be standing behind him. But somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling the teacher was talking to him. For some reason. 

“Jacob, was it?”

“Jason,” Jason responded without thinking, still fighting to get his brain back online.

“Ah, Jason, my apologies, son.” The man was standing, gathering papers from his desk before he brought them over to hand to Jason. They looked like… Today’s homework sheets? Jason had helped Tim with his homework enough times to recognize them but why was this guy just…? 

The man frowned when Jason didn’t immediately take the papers, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. 

“You are here to pick up your brother’s homework, right?”

Pick up… Brother’s… 

Oh.

That time when Tim got sick and Jason went around collecting his homework from all his teachers. This guy—whose name Jason couldn’t remember—must have misunderstood and thought Jason was Tim’s brother. 

Some part of him didn’t want to correct him… Jason would be Jason Drake to this guy if it meant being Tim’s brother.

“Oh, um. No, actually,” Jason stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. “Not today. I’m sure Tim will come get it himself when he’s back from…” He waited, hoping the teacher would fill in the blanks, but the man looked as clueless as Jason felt. “...wherever he is today.”

Lame excuse. So lame. Tim would probably be snickering at him if he were here, but he wasn’t. Apparently hadn’t been in class at all. Whether playing hooky or out of school entirely, Jason didn’t know.

The teacher hummed but didn’t question it, almost smiling. “Ah, well. Tell your brother he was missed today, alright?”

Jason just nodded, shuffling out of the room. “Yes sir! Thank you!”

He turned then and practically ran to the courtyard, searching the halls for any sign of the floofy haired kid. But there was nothing. Even as he made it outside, it didn’t take more than a quick glance to see that their picnic table was empty. 

Either Tim wasn’t at school today, or he was avoiding him. But if he were avoiding him, that didn’t explain why he’d completely miss his math class. Math was one of Tim’s favorite subjects—as much as any subject was anyway. It wasn’t like him to just skip. 

So… He wasn’t at school today. 

Jason sighed, dropping his backpack against one of the table legs and flopping onto one of the benches. Tim wasn’t here. And it was Friday. So Jason would have to wait three whole days before he could see the kid again. 

He tried not to let his heart drop too far. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to stay calm. No bouncing his foot or shifting around or smiling randomly. He had to be professional no matter what his feelings were. It didn’t matter where they were, what they were doing, or how excited he was. He had to stay calm. 

But Mom and Dad were home and it was Friday and they took him out of school to go to the zoo and Tim had been trying not to bounce out of his socks all day because there was a deep sea exhibit and they had just brought in an octopus last week and that was his favorite animal ever and he’d always wanted to see one and now he was going to get to and—

He took another deep breath, making sure his expression stayed neutral, just like they wanted him to. Be professional. Be patient. Impatience was a mortal flaw. 

Dad was saying something about the koala they were looking at but Tim didn’t really care. He nodded politely but really, he just wanted to get to the octopus. They’d been to the zoo on a family outing before, he’d seen the koalas. And the lions and the kangaroos and the baboons and all the other land animals they’d already passed as they made their way to the back of the zoo with the aquarium and the deep sea exhibit. Tim was a land animal, he didn’t really care to see more of them. That was just everyday life. He wanted to see the sea animals. He wanted to see the octopus. 

Dad said something to Mom and Tim zeroed in on the conversation as he heard his name. 

Oh no, what had he missed? 

He should have known better than to zone out around his parents. Or anyone, really. Except the Waynes. But especially his parents. Information was power, that’s what Mom always said. And to not know the information you could have had was a grave mistake. One that may be your last. Tim had learned the truth of that over and over again. He already had a sinking feeling about whatever he’d missed. 

Mother sighed, turning around to walk away from the koala exhibit, but she didn’t head toward the kangaroos. She was turning back the way they had come. 

Tim’s heart dropped. 

“Come along then, Timothy,” she was signaling to him, even as Dad walked after her. “We’ve been here long enough, it’s time to go home.”

Tim froze, unable to move. They… They couldn’t leave yet. They hadn’t gotten to the deep sea exhibit yet. They couldn’t just…

Mother stopped, turning back toward him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Timothy,” she said it so calmly, anyone around wouldn’t think twice. But Tim knew he was being scolded. He knew she was unhappy with him. “We’re going home. Come.”

He had to go. He had to make his feet move. But… But they were going the wrong way. He couldn’t talk back, his parents wouldn’t accept anything short of immediate obedience, but… But this was the first time in over a decade the zoo had had an octopus and it was only for the summer and if they left now then they wouldn’t go on another family outing until after summer and he’d miss his chance and—

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words. 

Mother and Father were both looking at him now, impatient and unhappy. Even as he stood there, he could see Mother’s mouth twitch as she prepared to scold him more. He had to say something. He had to. He couldn’t just walk away.

“May I see the aquarium first, please?”

Father scoffed and Mother raised a single eyebrow, turning all her judgement and fury on him. Tim had to close his fists to keep from squirming or looking away. 

“Timothy,” she narrowed her eyes, her voice steady but low. Tim was so screwed. “We’ve been here for three hours and you’ve barely looked at a single thing. Uninterested would be an understatement. Now, when we are about to leave, you say you want to stay?”

Tim swallowed, forcing himself to breathe evenly and shove his emotions down. If he cried now, it would be over. They’d be furious. 

“ No, Timothy.” Mother narrowed her eyes, the closest she ever came to a glare. “You do not get rewarded for being ungrateful. We’re leaving. Now come.”

There was no use fighting it. He screwed up. He nodded, trying not to show how stiff he was, and forced his feet to move, following after his parents as they turned and lead him back to the entrance of the park. 

He’d screwed up so bad.

He never should have said anything. They knew what he wanted now. Even if they did come back to the zoo before the deep sea exhibit moved on, they’d insist he pay “proper attention” to everything else first. They wouldn’t let him see the octopi until his performance had been satisfactory, and then they wouldn’t let him see it until the next time they came. They couldn’t reward him for acting good, after all. He was expected to be good without without a reward. They knew he’d only be doing it to get what he wants and they’d make him wait. And by the time they let him, it’d be too late. 

He stayed one step behind his parents and let his hair fall over his face just a little bit more than usual. It was harder to see the tears when he did that. As long as they didn’t turn around, they wouldn’t see anything. And they wouldn’t hear anything. He didn’t sniffle. He couldn’t make a sound. And every couple tears, he wiped at his eyes and his nose, then dried his hand on his pants. Gross, but a small wet patch on his pants was far less suspicious than drips on his collar. 

They got to the exit and Mother turned to make sure he was still following. He didn’t meet her eyes, but kept his forward. Like he wasn’t hiding anything. Just like always, she didn’t notice anything out of place. She turned back around again and Tim took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions before they got to the car. He never should have said anything. He never should have asked. 

But more importantly than anything else, he never should have let himself get excited.

Chapter Text

Dick sighed to himself, holding a copy of The Old Man and the Sea out in front of his face as he hung from the best hanging chandelier in the manor. Upside-down, that is. As you do. But he was holding the book upside-down too so that he could read it properly. Though he was tempted to turn it right-side up and try to read it with all the letters flipped and the words backwards. Because it might make it more interesting and better distract him. Because he needed a distraction today… 

He swallowed and tried to force himself to finish the page he was on, but stopped at the sound of footsteps padding towards him. Only the footsteps faded into his memory the second he pulled his eyes from the page. 

Memory. It was just a memory. Because the last time he’d tried to read a homework book while hanging from this chandelier Tim had… 

He shoved the thought aside, flipping off the chandelier as he snapped his book shut and landed on the carpeted floor. It was Saturday, Tim hadn’t even been gone for 48 hours yet. Would barely be a missing person’s case if he’d gone missing. Dick should be able to push his feelings aside and do his homework. 

But the silence was deafening. 

And he missed his baby bird. 

He groaned and started walking almost before he realized he was. He couldn’t do this. Not in a silent, empty wing of the manor. He needed some kind of noise. If Tim wasn’t here, he’d have to go find Bruce and Jason. Maybe he could convince Alfred to let him sit in the kitchen while he baked cookies and the man could bang a few pots and bowls together as he did. Alfred wasn’t the type to make noise when he cooked but… He was the type to know what Dick needed so… Maybe. It was worth a shot. 

It only took him a minute to get back to the main part of the manor, but Alfred wasn’t in the kitchen and no one was in the sitting room. Third try’s the charm though, just down the hall from the sitting room, he found Bruce and Jason reading in the library. They weren’t making much noise but… It would have to do. 

He sat down in a chair across from them as they both looked up at him but no one said a word. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing. They missed Tim. 

Jason hadn’t been able to see him on Friday but… Monday was coming. He’d see him on Monday, maybe invite him over to study or play. They’d get him back, at least for a few hours here and there. It was something. They just had to wait until then. 

Dick offered half a smile to his dad and his brother and then tucked his feet under himself and opened his book. Bruce and Jason went back to theirs and Dick reveled in the sound of their breaths or the occasional page turning.

It was far too quiet since Tim left.

~~~~~~~~~~

“B!!”

Bruce jolted awake as his son burst into his room, panic lacing his voice like Bruce hadn’t heard in a long time. He couldn’t see the boy well in the dark, but there was no mistaking how wide his eyes were. 

“Jason?” Bruce shoved down his exhaustion, focusing every bit of focus he had on the boy in front of him.

“B!!” Jason whisper shouted again, but it was hardly quiet despite his attempts. “Tim’s not in his bed, I don’t know where he went, he could be kidnapped again, we gotta find him!”

Bruce threw back his bedding and grabbed his robe before Jason had even finished talking, both of them bolting to the study as fast as they could.

Tim wasn’t in his bed. It was early morning, still dark out but late enough the vigilantes had gone to bed. There was no reason Tim would have moved after Alfred put him to bed last night, they had to get to the cave and pull up his tracking data and search the cameras and–

Bruce was halfway through the combination to open the entrance to the cave when reality caught up to him. 

Of course Tim wasn’t in his bed here. He was in his bed. But his bed wasn’t in their house. Not anymore. 

“Jason…” Bruce started slowly, carefully, his hand frozen halfway through opening the hidden panel. 

“Bruce!” Jason was practically bouncing out of his skin, hair disheveled and eyes still unadjusted to the light and being awake. He’d probably just gone for a glass of water or something and checked Tim’s room out of habit. 

“Jason…” Bruce tried again, trying to keep his voice and breathing calm to give Jason something to pick up on. “Tim doesn’t live here anymore, remember? His parents picked him up, chum. He’s not missing.”

Jason didn’t look convinced so Bruce knelt down to be eye level with his son and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jaylad, he’s safe in his own house, remember? You’ll see him at school on Monday, but he’s not here anymore.”

The reality of his words seemed to be slowly sinking in as Jason’s face fell, then his eyes started to fill with tears. Bruce didn’t hesitate for even a moment before pulling his son into his chest and holding him close. Jason balled his fists in Bruce’s robe and buried his face in the soft fabric as he started shaking with sobs. Bruce just held him tighter, waiting for him to speak.

“I…It…it was a dream…”

Oh.  

Jason hadn’t been up for a glass of water. 

“He…he was kidnapped again…didn’t make it home…and then…and then—” Jason choked, unable to make it through the rest of the story, but Bruce finished it for him. 

“And then he wasn’t in his bed and you panicked…”

Jason nodded against his chest and Bruce pulled him tighter, rubbing circles into his back as he fought back tears of his own.

“He’s safe, chum. He’s with his parents. He’s safe.” 

Jason nodded again, but couldn’t seem to make himself stop crying. Bruce didn’t mind. 

“Come on then,” he whispered into his son’s hair. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Bruce shifted, gathering Jason into his arms and then starting the trek back to his own room. He walked slowly so he wouldn’t jostle the boy, focusing on his breathing to give Jason something to match when he was ready. He was still crying by the time they got back to Bruce’s room, but quieter than before. 

Bruce climbed into bed, snuggled his son close, and listened to his breath even out as he slowly fell back asleep. But somehow, Bruce wasn’t tired anymore.

Chapter Text

Jason stared down at his sandwich, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach. He needed to eat. He knew what it felt like when he didn’t. Especially with all the Robin workouts these days, he couldn’t skip meals. But he just… Couldn’t find it in himself. Every time he thought about taking a bite, his stomach churned. 

It was Monday. 

Tim was supposed to be here. 

Tim was supposed to meet him.

He hadn’t been in the halls halfway between their classes, he hadn’t been in his math class, and now, he wasn’t at their picnic table outside. He wasn’t out in the picnic area at all. Jason had no idea where he was except that he apparently wasn’t here. 

It was Monday. 

And Jason hadn’t seen his little brother for four days. 

And there was only two more weeks of school before summer hit… And then Jason wouldn’t even have school to see the kid and if he didn’t get a chance to talk to him before that and figure out ways to see him over the summer, he might have to wait until September and…

No. He wasn’t going to just sit here and take it, he had to find Tim. One way or another, he was going to get a chance to talk to his little brother. No one was stopping him.

He shoved his sandwich back into his lunch bag, shoved his lunch bag back into his backpack, slung said backpack over his shoulder, and marched back inside. He didn’t stop until he got to the front office and confidently strode up to Mrs. Thompson’s desk. The woman looked up briefly, raising an eyebrow at him, but she was on the phone at the moment so he didn’t interrupt. 

Jason liked Mrs. Thompson. A lot of the school thought she was scary, and she definitely could be, especially when teachers were being unfair to their students, but in Jason’s opinion that just made her cooler. Jason had volunteered to help her in the office a lot back when he didn’t want to go home or didn’t have a home to go to. She’d given him papers to sort by date back then and shared snacks with him when he was hungry. He still stopped by whenever he could to offer a hand or just say hi. 

Right now though… Right now he needed information. 

He only waited another few moments before Mrs. Thompson finished up whatever conversation she was having with someone’s parent about someone’s absence, then she said her thank yous and goodbyes, put the receiver down, and turned to Jason.

“Mr. Todd,” she started politely, worry written across her features. Jason probably looked a mess right now… “What can I do for you today?”

“Timothy Drake,” Jason stated, skipping all the fanfare. Mrs. Thompson just nodded. 

“Yes, I heard Mr. Drake was staying with you for a few months until his parents got back on Thursday.”

Jason would never not be amazed at how much the woman always seemed to know… But that was exactly what he was hoping for. 

“Where is he today?”

Mrs. Thompson paused for a moment, considering. 

“You know I’m not supposed to disclose personal information, Jason.”

Jason nodded, swallowing, hoping she’d trust him anyway.

“But Bruce Wayne is still listed as an acceptable contact and guardian for Timothy.”

Jason let out the breath he’d been holding, practically bouncing, waiting for her to tell him where his little brother was. 

“Timothy’s parents called him out for the rest of the week. They didn’t tell me why.”

Jason froze, his heart dropping. The rest of the week. Tim was gone all week. Jason had been counting on being able to see him and now he wouldn’t be back until next week and next week was the last week of school and wasn’t even a full week anyway and–

“Jason,” Mrs. Thompson interrupted his spiraling to give him a stern but soft look. “Breathe, kiddo.”

Jason nodded, doing as he was told, counting out his breaths just like Bruce had taught him when they train. 

“I… I need to see him…” Jason started, shifting his eyes to the floor. “I’m worried about him…”

“So find him.”

Jason looked up suddenly, though he shouldn’t be surprised by the woman’s bluntness. She didn’t like people who beat around the bush and she certainly wasn’t one of them. 

“You’re his neighbor, right? His parents run in the same circles as your foster father. You’re a smart boy, Jason. If you want to see him, find a way outside of school.”

Jason met her eyes for a few moments, but she never wavered. Slowly, he nodded, a plan forming. 

“Yes ma’am!”

Mrs. Thompson smiled at him, then went back to her work.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce sighed as he pulled in and turned off his car. It was another long day at the office, board members were undoubtedly being ridiculous again, but for once, Bruce couldn’t even remember how. He’d barely been able to focus all day, his mind on his family instead. Dick and Jason were both obviously struggling. Dick almost never joined them in the library and he certainly didn’t quietly read alongside them in a chair like a regular human when he did. It was unnerving. And Jason, well. Bruce had woken up to Jason asleep beside him again this morning. 

And then there was Alfred. It was especially hard to tell when Alfred was struggling, but there were signs. His tone was more clipped when he spoke, his accent just the slightest bit stronger than usual. And he barely spoke on the coms in the evening. He was missing his partner, Bruce knew. 

Bruce couldn’t say he was fairing much better than the rest of his family. If they could just see Tim again, maybe have him over once in a while, it’d be better. But so far the boy had just vanished from their lives like he’d never been there. Bruce just hoped Jason had been able to meet up with him at school today. Bruce couldn’t imagine what the boy would be feeling if he hadn’t.

Bruce sighed again, dragging a hand over his face as he climbed out of his car and started inside, dropping his coat and briefcase in his office before making his way toward the kitchen. He could smell dough and tomato sauce from several rooms away, so Alfred was making pizza. Which was not a great sign. Pizza was normally too much work for the man to make on a regular basis so he saved it for times he needed to lose himself in his work or cheer up a particularly down boy. Today, it was probably both.

Though the sounds from the kitchen as he got closer didn’t agree with that assumption… 

Bruce could hear Dick and Jason arguing, a healthy dose of brotherly hostility in their voices but also…excitement? As Bruce got closer he could make out more words and realize they were arguing about… Colors. 

That couldn’t be right. 

No, definitely colors. Napkin colors, to be exact. 

Bruce frowned, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen to find Alfred standing at the island spreading toppings on several pizzas while Dick and Jason both sat on barstools with different colored napkins in hand. Jason held a cream with grey embroidery while Dick had two options, one Nightwing blue with ruffles and the other a checkered purple and black. Jason was saying something about using the flowers and food to liven up the color pallet and— wait.

Bruce cleared his throat, gaining the attention of both his sons. Who, in turn, rounded on him with matching expressions Bruce could only describe as evil grins. They were definitely plotting something though Bruce was yet to discover if it could be called sinister or not. He certainly wouldn’t be surprised from the chills their looks sent down his spine. 

“Hi Bruce,” Jason greeted, his voice far too even and calm for Bruce’s liking. “We’re throwing a gala.”

Bruce froze as his younger son’s words registered. They were… What?!

Jason hated galas. He’d only been to three and had already sworn to light something (or some one) on fire if Bruce dragged him to another one anytime soon and that promise had only been four months ago. Dick wasn’t much better, he didn’t make threats like that. No, Dick lived by the belief it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. There had actually been a fire at a gala four years ago and Bruce still wasn’t convinced Dick didn’t have something to do with it. 

And now his sons were… Planning a gala. And were excited about it. Bruce was afraid. 

Bruce was very, very afraid. 

“...why?” He finally managed to get out, even as he’d already mapped the nearest non-lethal weapons and easiest ways to get his sons to the cave for blood tests. Jason just grinned wider, his eyes narrowing as he did to send shivers down Bruce’s spine. 

“Tim won’t be at school all week,” Jason answered and Bruce felt his heart drop. “So if we can’t catch the kid in a regular setting, we’ll have to set an irregular trap for his parents.”

Ah. 

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief that his sons were (presumably) not out of their right minds. Though he’d still be keeping an eye on them. 

“I see…” Bruce hummed, glancing over the counter where the boys had several other decorations and plans strewn about. “I see you two have the planning covered, I suppose Brucie Wayne needs to go make some calls then.”

Both boys grinned wider, high fiving each other as Bruce turned to head back to his office, the sound of his sons bickering over napkins and flowers starting up again behind him. 

They’d get their brother back. One way or another, they’d find a way to sneak him back home. At least for a few hours.

Chapter Text

“Why do they have to bring the kid along?”

Tim paused, shifting almost imperceptibly in his raised swivel chair as he waited for his parents and the rest of the board to get here for the meeting. There were already three board members in the room so Tim would have to be subtle, but he’d moved his chair to the edge of the table, by the far wall with the window behind him. That way no one could walk behind him without him seeing them first. Just like Jason had told him to. Situational awareness, he’d called it. And Alfred had helped him put a film on his laptop so that someone had to be standing right in front of it to be able to see the screen. Thus, one would have to be right behind him to see his screen and no one could get right behind him without him noticing them first. He essentially had privacy while he worked during this meeting. 

He shifted his windows around, bringing up one particular screen he’d had minimized moments before. The security footage from outside the conference room, which he had, of course, hacked into the moment he sat down. 

Two figures were on the screen in front of him and Tim recognized them immediately. Tobias Woodward and William Marks. Tim knew all the names and faces of the board members at his parents’ company. He knew all the heads of departments too and he was starting to work on some of the lower level employees. He was going to take over the company someday. He had to be ready.

Right now, there were two guys standing outside the conference room talking in hushed voices. And they were talking about him. 

“He’s the heir to the company, Bill, they want him to learn the ropes.” Mr. Woodward laughed like it should be obvious. Tim agreed. It should be. He had as much right to be here as anyone else. “He’s just a kid, what’s the worst he can do?”

Mr. Marks paled, glancing around the hall to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned in closer, oblivious to the camera above them. “Did you hear what happened to Collins?”

Oh yeah, Tim remembered Collins. The guy had been embezzling. Tim found him six months ago. He should have been better about hiding his numbers, those spread sheets wouldn’t have fooled a child. Obviously. 

Tim had to fight to keep himself from smirking at his laptop. 

“Yeah, I remember Collins,” Mr. Woodward shrugged. “So he got sloppy and they caught him. Big deal, it isn’t like the kid had anything to do with it. And it isn’t like being around him is going to increase our chances of getting caught. Just relax, Bill.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, pretending to brush his hair back from his face while he pushed his wireless earbud further into his ear. So Collins wasn’t alone. Interesting. Tim would absolutely be looking into this further. Woodward and Marks should consider their days numbered. 

“Yeah…” Marks sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re probably right. You have to admit he’s creepy though. The kid never even fidgets, and his tiny suit never gets wrinkled. It’s unsettling.”

Woodward chuckled at that, shifting toward the conference room as the elevator doors opened and Tim’s parents stepped out. 

“True, Bill. I’ll give you that.”

Tim had to suppress a grin as they came into the room. They had no idea what he was capable of. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce sat at his desk in his office, glaring at the grandfather clock in front of him as the minutes ticked by. It was Thursday afternoon. They were supposed to throw a gala tomorrow evening and Bruce still hadn’t been able to get ahold of the Drakes. He’d called them Monday, then sent a formal invite that night, called again Tuesday and again on Wednesday, but nothing. No one had answered any of his calls and he hadn’t gotten any word back from the physical invite, despite that Bruce had made sure it was successfully delivered. They only had twenty-six hours before the gala was supposed to start and Bruce still wasn’t even sure the Drakes knew it was happening. 

Bruce tapped his fingers against his desk as another three minutes ticked by before finally pushing his chair away from the grandfather clock and toward his desk phone. It was Thursday. He’d already called them three times, but maybe… Maybe fourth time was the charm? He had to try. 

He picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart at this point, drumming his fingers against the desk as it rang. He didn’t know what he would do if nobody answered again, he might have to go to Drake manor himself and knock on their door and—

“Drake residence.”

Bruce was so relieved he could cry. He almost didn’t process the odd high pitch in the voice indicating… 

“Tim?” Bruce almost couldn’t believe his luck. It sounded so much like Tim and Bruce didn’t know of any other children in that house, the only thing that gave him pause was how… professional the boy sounded. 

The speaker on the other end of the line paused a moment before speaking, and Bruce’s heart dropped the moment he did.

“Mr. Wayne, what can I do for you?”

Mr. Wayne. Bruce had insisted Tim just call him Bruce. They’d worked so hard to get the boy comfortable with them, why was he being so proper again all of sudden? It had only been a week. 

Maybe his parents were listening… It didn’t take a detective to figure out Tim’s parents wanted him to address adults respectfully, even if the adults in question didn’t want it. Maybe that was it. At least, Bruce hoped it was. He wouldn’t insist Tim call him Bruce over the phone. 

“Well Chum,” Bruce started, shoving his anxiety down and just focusing on the conversation and his so– Tim. Focusing on Tim. “I was just calling to invite you and your parents to the gala that Dick, Jason, and I are throwing tomorrow night. Dick and Jason are planning the whole thing, they’ve got an entire ice cream bar with lots of rocky road planned.” They had insisted. It was the flavor Tim chose when they took him out for ice cream so they were pretty sure it was his favorite. “And Alfred’s making cookies for anyone who knows where the kitchen is.” 

The boy didn’t answer immediately and Bruce froze, barely daring to breathe as he waited for Tim’s response. 

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the hint of a happy tone to Tim’s voice. It wasn’t much, but Bruce liked to think he’d learned to read the boy during his time with them. And if he had, there was definitely a hint of excitement there. Which, knowing Tim, was practically bouncing off the walls. 

“I will make sure my parents are aware and we look forward to seeing you and your family.”

Bruce grinned, already excited to see his–Tim again tomorrow. 

“Of course, Tim. We can’t wait to see you too. You’re welcome anytime.” 

The other end of the line went silent again at that and Bruce started to fear Tim had hung up the phone and he’d missed the click. But another few moments and the boy responded before hanging up for real.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce couldn’t stop smiling as he put down the receiver. They’d gotten word to them. The Drakes were coming. They’d get to see Tim again. 

They’d get to see Tim again.

He couldn’t wait to tell Dick and Jason. The gala could go up in flames as far as any of them were concerned, as long as they got to see Tim again.

Chapter Text

The numbers didn’t line up at all. Ok, at all wasn’t quite accurate. The numbers lined up just enough that Tim missed it the first time he’d been going over this. But now that he was looking for it, there was definitely more going on here than Collins’ embezzlement. Tim just needed to pour over these spreadsheets and everything else to make sure he got the right guys, all the right guys, and enough proof to ruin them. Might take him a few days but Marks and Woodward were going down. Tim would see to that. 

Something thudded in the hall outside his room, pulling Tim out of his thoughts and away from his computer. Something thudding wasn’t unusual when his parents were home and the house wasn’t empty, but that particular thud… The higher, soft pitch with the echo of a lower thud… It sounded like plastic wheels with a hollow, fabric echo. 

Tim knew that sound. 

It was the sound of an empty suitcase hitting the floor. 

It was the sound of his parents leaving…

Tim felt his heart drop as he slammed his laptop shut and practically ran toward his door, peeking out through the crack before he did anything stupid. Ms. Park was down the hall just outside his parents’ bedroom, pulling a suitcase into the room. Ms. Park was one of the maids when his parents were actually home. She was usually the one to pack their bags for them. Mother and Father hated packing themselves and the young woman was apparently very good at fitting things in just the way they liked it so they always called on her. But that… Definitely meant they were leaving again. It felt like they’d only just gotten back… 

Tim pulled away from the door and took a deep breath, just like the Waynes had taught him to in training. He had to keep it together. They’d only be gone for a few months and maybe, just maybe, if they thought he was good, they might send him back with the Waynes again. 

Tim really hoped so…

He didn’t want to spend another few months alone in the big empty house. Especially over the summer. 

School was ending next week and then he’d be completely alone again. 

He didn’t want to. 

He hated it when his parents left over the summer. They’d be gone the whole summer. And Tim would be completely alone.

He took another deep breath and opened his door, walking down the hall and then the stairs, quietly looking for his parents. He was almost to the front doors when he heard voices. Mother was angry. 

“Yes, we are leaving, Susan—”

“Sharon,” a woman corrected, her voice familiar but Tim couldn’t quite place from where. He crept closer and silently entered the front hall where he could see his mother standing at the door with Sharon, who was apparently not welcome past the threshold. Tim recognized her now, though he hadn’t seen her in a few months. She was the reason his parents had been so on edge right before they left. She’d wanted to talk to Tim alone and asked him a lot of weird questions. And his parents hadn’t been happy with that. 

“It is none of your concern where we are going, your only concern is who our son will be staying with while we’re gone. As we are taking Timothy with us, you have no right to continue assaulting this household with your presence. Good day, Susan .” With that final word, Mother closed the door in Sharon’s face and turned away, pausing as she caught sight of Tim on the other end of the hall. 

Tim had to repress a flinch at her expression. Most people wouldn’t have noticed a difference, but she paused. Mother never paused or hesitated unless something caught her completely off guard. He hadn’t meant to startle her. 

“Timothy,” Mother stated calmly, her voice a couple of notes too low. To Tim, it sounded like she was growling. “Go to your room, son.” 

She was angry. She was fuming so much Tim could practically see the steam billowing off of her in waves. Tim didn’t even respond, just turned and walked toward his room obediently. He shouldn’t have startled her. He shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. But he couldn’t help the excitement at what he’d heard. Mother and Father were taking him with them this time. For once, he wouldn’t be left home alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, Mrs. Darney! So glad you could make it!” Brucie Wayne greeted the most recent guest, trying to keep his voice cheerful and carefree despite the dread in his stomach. Another subtle glance at the clock in the hall confirmed his fears. It was 8:42 in the evening. More than an hour past the 7:30 the invitations had called for. It wasn’t unheard of for the Drakes to be fashionably late, in fact, Bruce wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them arrive on time. But there was still a sinking feeling in his gut that they just weren’t coming. Still, every time the door opened, Bruce jumped at the hope that maybe this one would be Tim. 

Mrs. Darney was saying something, making small talk or thanking him for hosting, he didn’t actually care which. He smiled along, was polite and smooth with his responses, but couldn’t actually bring himself to care. More than a usual gala even. 

There was movement in the corner of his eye and he followed it instinctively, catching sight of Alfred walking past with a tray of champagne. That was… More than odd. They hired caterers for events like this, Alfred wasn’t one of the servers. It wouldn’t have looked odd to anyone else though, which was beyond a doubt the point. 

Bruce excused himself from Mrs. Darney and slipped out of the party, following Alfred to his study where he closed the door behind him. Alfred didn’t speak for a moment. That was never a good sign. 

“I’ve just received word from downstairs,” the older gentleman finally started and Bruce swallowed. Downstairs. It was code. Alfred hacked something or otherwise got his hands on private information not yet well known. This couldn’t be good. “A private jet left Gotham this afternoon, their records show all three Drakes were onboard.” 

Bruce froze, his world caving in around him. Tim wasn’t coming. Tim was out of state. Or country? Bruce had no idea. Tim was gone and he had no idea where he was going or when he would be back. 

“The flight was headed somewhere in Asia, Sir.” Alfred went on, trying to answer his unspoken questions as best he could. “They do not have a return date scheduled as of yet.” 

He really was gone. No return date meant at least a month. Knowing the Drakes, it could be several months. They’d either have to wait for Tim to come back, or go out there to see him themselves. And they didn’t even know for sure where “there” was. They’d have to wait for Tim to get back. Bruce didn’t know if he could. 

But he had to. 

Dick and Jason were still down the hall playing their part as hosts. Bruce knew they were watching the door as closely as he had been though. He would have to tell them. Somehow, he’d have to tell them their broth–Tim wasn’t coming back for an indefinite amount of time. It was a waiting game now and Bruce didn’t know how any of them were going to make it through. 

Chapter Text

Jason knew the second Bruce followed Alfred out of the entryway. Alfred wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of walking past at just the right angle to catch Bruce’s eye simply to get him to follow him out if it had been something good. Bruce needed privacy for whatever Alfred needed to tell him, so it had to be bad news. And tonight… Jason knew exactly what that news was. 

Or close enough, anyway. 

Tim wasn’t coming. They’d put this whole thing together just to lure Tim’s fancy rich parents to the over the top Wayne gala and they weren’t coming. And now Jason was stuck in a suit pretending not to notice when snobs turned their noses up at him all for nothing. Tim wasn’t even coming. 

Well… There was only one thing to do. He had a promise to keep. He turned toward the door, hardly even bothering to be sneaky. No one really paid attention to him at these things anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick had been so focused on the door to the entryway that he had somehow missed when both Bruce and Jason disappeared. Bruce came back a few minutes later, Brucie Wayne smile firmly in place, but there was something horribly off about it that only Dick could read. He caught his eye and Bruce let the mask slip for just a moment, letting Dick see the heartbreak in his eyes as he shook his head. 

Tim wasn’t coming. 

Dick had already guessed, but the knowledge that it was for certain felt suffocating. 

Bruce broke the eye contact, scanning the room for Jason, but he was already gone. And the fact that Bruce apparently didn’t know where he went was worrying. Dick assumed they’d snuck out together, but if that wasn’t accurate, there was no telling where Jason could be.

Bruce turned back to Dick, catching his eye for half a second before one of the partygoers–a Miss Hastings if Dick remembered correctly–cornered him. Bruce was a goner. The man turned toward the guest, greeting her with some sort of weird hand wave. To anyone else it would have looked like Bruce had a bit too much to drink, but Dick recognized that particular wave. It wasn’t a wave at all. It was a field sign. 

Find Robin.

Usually used when they suspected the young vigilante may be in danger or hurt. It was urgent, worried, and definitely fit this moment. Dick was devastated, yes. But he didn’t have time to focus on that now. He needed to find his little brother and make sure he was ok. 

He made his way toward the nearest exit, quickly excusing himself from anyone who tried to stop him, and stepped out into the hall. From there, he made an immediate b-line for the study. There was no one there, though Dick hadn’t expected to find anyone. More surprising though was that there was no one in the cave. Jason’s suit was still hung up where it was supposed to be, his bike untouched in the bay. 

So he hadn’t left. At least not as Robin. That was something, though it only decreased the chances of him being in physical danger. 

Dick ran back up the stairs, out the dark study, and back into the main part of the house. If Jason wasn’t in the cave, if he wasn’t going out as Robin, the next most likely spot to look for him was the kitchen. Dick started in that direction as fast as he reasonably could without it looking suspicious should someone catch sight of him, though he thankfully didn’t run into anyone on the way. Unfortunately though, the kitchen was empty save for Alfred by the time Dick got there. 

Alfred, who barely glanced up before nodding like he’d been expecting Dick to come through the door. 

“Ah, Master Dick,” Alfred started, reaching for a bowl to hand to him. A bowl full of… Popcorn? “Master Jason took a bottle of starter fluid and matches out to the garden, would you mind bringing this to him? I believe the young lad could use some…” Alfred paused and hummed. “ Supervision and company, sir.”

Dick froze for half a second, Alfred’s words and apparent calm sinking in. Jason was setting something on fire. Jason was setting something on fire and apparently Alfred was fine with that. And making him popcorn. 

You know what, Dick didn’t care. If Alfred didn’t seem to think it was a problem, what was the worst he could do? 

Dick nodded, taking the bowl from the older gentlemen as he crossed the kitchen to the backdoor. “Sure, Alfred. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, my boy.” 

Dick barely caught his quiet response before the door closed behind him and the only lights streamed out from the windows. Even the garden lights were off. Which they shouldn’t be on a night like this… 

Dick frowned, headed out toward the garden looking for anything out of place. Anything resembling his little brother. 

It wasn’t hard to do. Jason was whistling. 

Dick followed the sound out to a clearing where they’d just had a tree taken down a year or two ago. There was just enough light from the house and the moon to make out Jason’s form, finishing up setting wood against the tree stump, them reaching for a bottle which Dick could only assume was starter fluid. 

“Littlewing?” Dick called out before he got too close, but Jason didn’t startle. He must have already known he was there. Dick set the bowl of popcorn down on the grass and stepped closer, watching as Jason popped the cap and poured a generous—but not dangerous—amount of starter fluid over the stump and surrounding lean-to of firewood. 

“Hey Dick,” Jason greeted, far too cheerfully as he walked away, setting the bottle of starter fluid plenty far from the apparent fire, then came back and reached for the box of matches. “Did you want to do it?”

Dick looked down at his little brother who held the box of matches up to him, his face turned toward the stump. Dick wasn’t sure they were supposed to be doing this, but then again… Alfred sent popcorn and didn’t seem worried. 

“Alfred said he wanted this stump removed last September.” Jason seemed to read Dick’s mind as he explained. “He told me how he planned to burn it. Might as well take care of it for him, right?”

Dick half laughed, taking the offered box of matches and stepping forward. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, “guess we might as well.” 

He struck a match and tossed it onto the pile, watching with some measure of satisfaction as the starter fluid caught instantly, engulfing the stump in flames. He took a few steps back and sat down on the grass, patting the spot next to him for Jason to join. Which he did, both boys watching as the wood quickly caught fire and started to burn. The nearest hose was only a few yards away and the grass was wet and green anyway so it shouldn’t be a problem. 

“Oh hey, Alfred sent popcorn.” Dick had almost forgotten but reached for the bowl now, setting it on his lap where both boys could take handfuls from the bowl. Jason wasted no time before digging in. He always did love popcorn. 

They sat in silence for several minutes, munching on popcorn and watching the fire burn. Neither of them said anything until the popcorn was gone, then Jason leaned into Dick’s side and Dick wrapped his arms around his little brother. 

He wasn’t sure how, but they both seemed to just know. 

Tim wasn’t coming home. At least not for a long time. 

In the meantime, Dick held his little brother close and watched flames dance across an old stump.

Chapter Text

Private jet. Three passengers. Janet Lynn Drake, Jack Charles Drake, and Timothy Jackson Drake. Bound for India. Archeological trip, according to the visa records—which Bruce had spent over two hours trying to get his hands on. There were no cameras at the airport where they landed, nor on the plane or the dig site they were at. Bruce had managed to pick up one grainy image of the taxi they’d ridden from the airport to the dig site but even that, the windows had been too dark to see any of the passengers. 

Bruce was starting to suspect it was intentional. India wasn’t that technologically dark. The Drakes were avoiding being seen. The only question was why. 

Bruce had been suspicious of the Drakes’ overseas activity for a long time but had never had reason to really dig into it. He wasn’t sure he even had cause now. For all he knew they were avoiding being seen to escape the paparazzi. Bruce certainly had no room to judge on that front. He didn’t have any evidence that the Drakes were up to anything nefarious. 

Except for taking Tim… 

“You should be in bed, Master Bruce.” 

Bruce didn’t jump. Regardless of what his sons would say. No, Bruce just turned to face Alfred and pretended the movement was natural, not choppy or panicked at all. 

He signed as Alfred stared him down in that calm, professional, and utterly chilling way he had. Alfred was right. He was always right. It was nearly 5AM and Bruce had a meeting at work in the morning, plus it was Jason’s last day at school and Bruce wanted to pick him up after, he couldn’t let the meeting go long and had to be there on time to ensure that happened. He really did need to sleep. 

“You can continue stalking Master Tim and his family tomorrow evening, Sir,” Alfred continued, even as Bruce closed down the computer and stood. “Tonight you must think of yourself and your sons.”

Bruce nodded, heading for the stairs, even as his mind kept racing. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, but he wasn’t getting anything done right now anyway. “Right as always, Alfred.” 

The older gentleman hummed his response before both men fell silent and Bruce took the stairs to his room. 

Tim was fine. He was with his parents and even if they weren’t completely above board in their archeology, Tim was safe with them and he would be back eventually. They could figure out a way to kidnap him after that. They just had to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~

The parking lot was empty by the time Jason saw Bruce’s car pull in. Bruce had been sending him increasingly apologetic texts every few minutes for the last hour and a half, promising him that he could have Alfred pick him up instead, but Jason didn’t mind and told Bruce as much. It was the last day of school and he had used the extra hour to hang out in the office and help Mrs. Thompson sort through end of year papers. And every now and then, between her duties helping students, parents, and teachers, they’d gotten the chance to chat. 

Jason missed hanging out with her. He loved Bruce and his new home, wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes he missed the days when he could spend hours after school helping out in the office. As bad as Bruce felt for being late, Jason relished these days. He truly didn’t mind. 

Still, it was the last day of school and he was excited to get home and officially start summer break. So when Bruce pulled up, he grabbed his things, returned the stacks of papers he’d been sorting through to Mrs. Thompson’s desk, and waved his goodbyes. She smiled and wished him a good summer break, then he was out the door and running to Bruce’s car. 

“Hey, chum!” Bruce grinned as soon as Jason opened the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but smiled to reassure Bruce he wasn’t upset. “It’s fine, I was just helping Mrs. Thompson in the office.”

Bruce hummed approvingly, waiting for Jason to get his seatbelt on before he pulled out onto the street. 

“She’s the lady who calls me when you or Tim skip school, right?”

Jason nodded in response, settling his backpack by his feet as he turned to stare out the window. Mrs. Thompson had asked about Tim, while he’d been helping her. Jason had told her everything he knew, that they were out of town. She almost seemed surprised at that. Which was weird. Mrs. Thompson knew everything. But she’d raised an eyebrow and asked if Tim had gone with them. Which he had. Tim was listed on the flight logs. She’d seemed satisfied by that answer, though she did ask who was looking after their house while they were gone. Probably butlers or something, Alfred always looked after the manor when Bruce had to fly to another country. It was an odd question for her to ask, but Jason had long since learned not to be confused by her. She had reasons, he was sure. 

“I like her,” Bruce hummed, pulling Jason back to the present. “She’s not intimidated by Brucie Wayne.”

Jason grinned at that. “She’s not intimidated by anything, B. Batman could bust through her window and would apologize before he left.”

That got a laugh out of Bruce and Jason grinned wider. 

“You know, there aren’t many things Batman’s afraid of, but if she’s anything like Alfred…” 

Jason snorted, nodding his head soberly. “She’s far too much like Alfred to not scare Batman.”

They both nodded again, in sync this time, then devolved into laughing. 

“Batman will be keeping his distance, I can assure you of that!” Bruce grinned, careful to keep his eyes on the road despite their conversation. “The world needs more people like Alfred, but that doesn’t mean I want to cross them.”

Jason snorted again and grinned. “You can say that again.”

Chapter Text

Jason drummed his fingers against the desk the batcomputer sat on, glaring at the feed in front of him. He was benched for the night due to a couple minor hits the night before. Nothing serious, nothing he couldn’t handle, but enough Bruce didn’t want to take chances and had him sit out for the night. Alfred was upstairs making cookies and Jason was suited up while watching the monitors, just in case they needed to call him in. Though it had been a slow night so far, chances were slim he’d get to leave the cave. 

So instead he spent the evening glaring at a camera feed. A camera feed that didn’t make any sense. It’d been four days and no one had—

“Robin,” Batman’s voice came through the speakers, grovely enough to sound like a growl to anyone who didn’t know him. 

To Jason, it sounded slightly distressed. Definitely focused which might indicate hostages. Jason immediately straightened, shifting his feeds to the cameras near Batman’s current location, catching sight of both Batman and Nightwing on a ledge overlooking a bank. 

“Here,” Jason responded, searching his feeds for anything out of place. The door to the bank looked… Off. Even from the grainy images he had. He immediately switched to start hacking into the bank’s internal cameras. Thankfully, they’d been in that particular system enough times it shouldn’t take more than a few moments. 

“The bank door is ajar,” Batman started, but Jason had already gathered that much. “There are heat signatures inside but we don’t have a read on if there are hostages or which ones may be. We need you to—”

“I’m in.” Jason interrupted and Batman fell silent, waiting for the verdict. There were five people inside, two in the vault, one keeping watch, and two in a back room standing in just such a way the heat signatures wouldn’t have picked up on the gun jabbed into the one man’s back. So these guys were familiar with the Bats and knew how to dodge the heat sensors. Good to know. “Two in the vault, one behind the counter, hostage with an armed guard in a back office. You’ll need to take that one out before alerting them of your presence.” 

Batman grunted his affirmative and quickly growled his instructions to Nightwing, then the two of them jumped onto the roof of the bank and set their plan into motion. Jason watched as they both snuck in, then Nightwing crept to the office and took out the gunman before giving Bruce the signal. For all the men seemed to be familiar with the Bats, the fight was over in a matter of seconds. 

Jason smirked and switched over his feeds again, pulling up the view from the camera he’d been watching before Batman and Nightwing had needed him. Nothing had changed in the last 12 minutes. Not that he expected it to. 

But it still didn’t make any sense. 

Jason hadn’t been able to get Mrs. Thompson’s question out of his head. Who was watching Drake Manor while they were gone? Jason had originally assumed a butler or something but the more Jason thought about it, the less that made sense. One of the galas he’d been to had been at Drake Manor and they didn’t seem to have a butler. Staff, sure, but no one had been in charge. Jason couldn’t quite figure it out. 

So he decided to set up a camera facing the front door and driveway four days ago. And so far, it had picked up absolutely nothing. Some lady had showed up on the first day and knocked, hung around for 14 minutes and 32 seconds, but left when she got no answer. Probably some sort of saleswoman. Other than her, not a single car had come or gone in the last four days, not a single person moved around on the grounds and Jason hadn’t caught any movement in any of the windows. It was almost like no one was there. Especially since they didn’t answer the door. But someone had to be, right? What if there was a break in and no one would know? Who would take care of the lawn? What if the power went out and the fridge and freezer would lose all their food? Who was keeping the place clean so they wouldn’t come home to everything covered in dust and dirt? 

The Drakes hadn’t even come to talk to the Waynes. They were neighbors, right? That’s what neighbors did for each other, right? Keep an eye on the house while they were out of town? Jason remembered the lady in the apartment across from him and his mom asking them to keep an eye on her place while she would be gone for a few days, why hadn’t the Drakes asked the Waynes the same thing? 

It just didn’t make sense. 

Jason drummed his fingers against the desk again, glaring at the completely still feed. Something was up. He just knew it. 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Alfred came into view with a plate of cookies a moment later, holding them out as he not so subtly looked at the infuriating camera feeds. 

“Snickerdoodle, Master Jason?”

Jason hummed and took a cookie without looking up, mumbling a thank you which Alfred would normally comment on, but not today. 

“Spying on Master Tim, sir?”

Jason nodded, munching on his cookie. Again, normally, Alfred would probably scold him for invading privacy unnecessarily and all that, but the fact that he didn’t was a testament to how much Alfred wanted his partner back. Just as much as the rest of them wanted their brother.

“Find anything?”

Jason sighed, not sure what to say, but Alfred seemed to understand perfectly. Jason supposed raising Bruce would make Alfred fluent in non-verbal communication. 

“Well.” Alfred stated more than anything, finally drawing Jason’s attention away from the screens. “I can take a turn at the monitors, sir, you are to let yourself heal and not get into any fights, but one cannot fight the occupants of an empty house.”

Jason froze, staring up at the older gentlemen. Was he really saying what Jason thought he was saying…?

“Alfred…?” Jason narrowed his eyes, not quite sure how to phrase his question as it appeared Alfred was avoiding saying it outright. 

“There is a tunnel behind the giant penny and to the left, sir, you may want to follow it.”

Jason blinked several times, then grinned slowly, bolting out of his chair to follow Agent A’s directions. 

Something wasn’t right. And Jason was going to find out what.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nightwing snuck through a side door in the building, quietly laughing at the security, or lack of security anyway. He clearly wasn’t the first person here but even so, there were no cameras, no guards, and minimal sensors. The few sensors there were were extremely easy to fool anyway. It almost felt too easy. But if there was more security he was missing, it would have to be some supervillain level stuff for him to not be able to find it and to have a decoy security system anyway. So Nightwing was fairly certain this was it. 

Still, he kept his eyes peeled as he moved through the dwelling. 

There was one heat signature in what looked like the kitchen. He moved toward it silently. He wasn’t familiar with the layout of the building but it was similar enough to what he knew that he didn’t have trouble navigating. He found the kitchen with the lights off, just like the rest of the house. Completely dark and mostly empty. The lone heat signature was facing the sink, rummaging through the dirty dishes with his back to Nightwing. 

Dick grinned, silently leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. Waiting. 

Another few seconds and the figure turned, a frown on his face for all of half a second before he caught sight of Nightwing and shrieked, hurling a batarang at him as he jumped high enough to land on the counter. 

Dick dodged the batarang easily and doubled over laughing as Robin jumped off the counter and lunged at him, which Dick didn’t fight. 

“Nightwing!!” Jason practically screamed at him, his heartbeat loud enough for Dick to hear as the younger vigilante punched him in the shoulder on each word. “Don’t. DO. That!! Why are you even here?!”

Dick held his gut, trying to breathe as he got control of himself. Jason had actually landed on the counter. It was too good. 

“Oh come on, Dickface! I thought you were a professional!” Jason was glaring, or maybe pouting, Dick couldn’t quite tell. He grinned in response. 

“I didn’t even have to do anything!” he giggled, wiping a tear from his eye. “All I did was stand there!”

Jason rolled his eyes and patted Dick on the back, far harder than necessary and Dick was pretty sure that was supposed to help with coughing, not laughing, but he probably deserved it. 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up and then we never speak of this again.” Jason shoved a finger in Dick’s face threateningly and Dick just batted him away. 

“Relax,” he wheezed, finally managing to suck in enough air to mostly calm himself, though he couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s not like I have pictures. Unfortunately.” 

Jason smacked him on the back one last time for good measure, making sure to glare the whole time. Which almost just made it funnier. 

Still, they came here for a reason, so Dick took a deep breath and straightened, looking around the kitchen. 

“So,” he started, mostly composed with the exception of the grin that wouldn’t quite leave his face. “Alfred said he lost signal when you were in the tunnel and wanted me to check on you. What’d you find? Besides your worst nightmare.” Dick grinned and Jason punched him again. Which he probably deserved. Still worth it. 

“Nothing,” Robin nearly growled, the closest Dick had heard him come to Batman’s tone of voice without intentionally trying to copy the man. “The place is completely empty, I can’t find any evidence of anyone being here. There’s an old coffee pot in the sink with evaporated coffee stains, no signs of anyone having cooked in at least a week, the garbage stinks like it hasn’t been touched since they left, and neither the heat nor the AC is on.”

Dick frowned, looking over the kitchen in the dark. No signs of food definitely spoke to the house being empty, especially with the complete lack of heat signatures besides the two of them. The heat and AC not being on also spoke to that. It was coming on late June so no heat was understandable, but no AC either? It was starting to get hot. Surely they’d have left that on if someone was here, even if just a butler or something? Maybe they intended to be gone long enough to just have the cleaning staff come in a week before they got back. Still though, it was odd. 

“I don’t get it,” Jason sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s almost like they don’t want anyone here, but they have the money to afford a cleaner. This place isn’t exactly spotless…” 

Dick nodded, noting the slight buildup of dust over several surfaces and the mess they’d found the kitchen in. It didn’t feel right. But he couldn’t place his finger on what about it actually felt wrong. They weren’t paying for a housekeeper? They were practically inviting people to rob them? Sure. But that wasn’t illegal. 

“I don’t know, Little Wing,” Dick sighed, walking over to the sink to poke the bone dry dirty dishes. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Nightwing pulled into a small garage and flipped down his kickstand as he dismounted his bike. Then he left, closing the door behind him and immediately taking to the roofs. Bruce had purchased small garages all over the city after the last time he parked the batmobile in an alley and got his tires jacked. He probably should have thought of that years ago but Dick was glad he hadn’t. At least he had one little brother who was here to stay.

The other one… 

Dick sighed, shoving his emotions down as he took off running, flipping over alleyways and watching for signs of trouble. He’d gotten Jason home twenty minutes ago after their break in of Drake manor had yielded absolutely nothing. They’d searched everywhere. Basement, attic, upstairs, main floor, everywhere. There were no signs of life, nothing illegal, nothing particularly out of place, and no Baby Bird. Not that Dick had expected to find him, he knew Tim was in India after all, but some part of him deep down thought that maybe breaking into Tim’s house might make the Baby Bird magically appear or…something. Hope wasn’t always logical, so sue him. 

He took a running leap to launch off the current building, throwing in a double flip as he did and preparing to roll on the landing when…

He could have sworn he heard something click. Faint, barely there, nothing dangerous just… Out of place. It almost sounded like the click of a camera, which normally, Dick wouldn’t think anything about. He knew he looked awesome on that flip, he loved to perform, and it wasn’t unheard of for reporters, paparazzi, or just random people to want to get a good picture of him. 

But the image of a Baby Bird hiding nearly invisible behind a gargoyle while clutching a camera to his chest flashed across Dick’s mind. 

He froze, turning toward the direction he could have sworn the sound came from, but there was nothing there. He leaned over the edge of the building but the alley was empty too. Tim was the only person Dick knew who was that good at getting shots of them without anyone knowing he was there. So if Dick couldn’t find the photographer, then maybe… 

But Tim was in India. He couldn’t possibly… 

Dick jumped between buildings, softening his landing as much as possible while he looked around. He was pretty sure the sound had come from this roof—if it had happened at all. With the noise of the city and how much he missed Tim, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was imagining things. But he had to make sure. 

“Baby Bird?” Dick called softly, peering around the elevator tower, then the air conditioning unit. There was nothing there, and he didn’t get an answer. There weren’t many places to hide on this roof so if he couldn’t find Tim then… 

Then he probably just imagined it. 

Tim wasn’t here. It didn’t make any sense for him to be here. He was in India with his parents. 

Dick just missed him. 

Someone screamed two alleys away and Nightwing spun toward the sound, hesitating just a moment before turning back to the roof and whispering into the darkness. 

“I miss you, Baby Bird.”

He ran then, bolting toward the sounds of a fight and leaving the mysterious clicking sound behind. After all, it wouldn’t make any sense for Tim to be here. What kind of parents would the Drakes be if they left a seven year old kid alone in a massive empty mansion?

~~~~~~~~~~

Batman pulled into the batcave just minutes before it would begin to get light outside. Nightwing and Robin had gone to bed hours ago despite that neither of them had school in the morning. But Batman couldn’t bring himself to go home. So he’d stayed out later. And then later turned into sunrise. 

Alfred had questioned his judgement almost two hours ago, but Bruce had a feeling the older man knew he needed the time to think. Crime rates were down that early in the morning anyway so it was just Batman and the darkness for most of the night. 

Nightwing had filled him in on their break in. Bruce couldn’t quite hide his disappointment. He’d almost gone and searched the Drakes’ house himself, once or twice. He didn’t know what he expected to find but he had hoped it would be something.  

He trusted Dick and Jason. If they said there was nothing out of place, there was nothing out of place. 

Still, he missed Tim.

Bruce sighed, pulling down his cowl as he sank into the batcomputer chair and booted up the computer. It’d been three weeks since they’d last seen Tim, Bruce had all but memorized the file he’d put together on the Drakes’ possible whereabouts in that time. Three days ago, he’d found something new. A phone number. A temporary number assigned to one of the elder Drakes while they were in India, though Bruce hadn’t even been able to figure out if the number was Jack’s or Janet’s. Maybe both. 

He’d been thinking of calling it for days now but hadn’t been able to come up with a valid excuse. Hi, yes, I consider your son my own and wanted to talk to him. Just to say hi and tell him I miss him. Bruce could only imagine how that would go. 

Still, he did miss him. He just wanted to know that Tim was ok. That the boy was enjoying his time in India. Maybe if he just… 

Bruce sighed, staring at the number tucked away in the Drakes’ file. It would be afternoon in India right now. The sun was barely starting to rise outside but Tim was probably sitting under that same sun somewhere, high over his head. Maybe he was getting sunburned. Bruce had no idea if the Drakes would have thought to make him put on sunscreen. Tim was so pale, he’d probably burn if he was outside for more than ten minutes. Maybe they just had him stay in the shade as they did whatever archeological things they had to do. Or maybe they left him with a babysitter at the hotel. Neither option sounded great, if Bruce was being honest. Tim was an incredibly active boy, at least mentally. He was never not focusing on something. His laptop or his homework or hacking or sneaking around with Dick and Jason or…  

Bruce e couldn’t keep doing this. 

Awkward phone call or not, Bruce had to know. He had to at least try. 

He pulled himself from his thoughts and clicked on the number before he could talk himself out of it, waiting as it rang through the batcomputer’s speakers. 

And then kept ringing. And kept…

“The person you’re trying to reach has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet, please—”

Bruce hung up the phone, intertwining his fingers behind his head as he stared at the keyboard. They didn’t answer, and he couldn’t even leave them a message. 

Tim was fine anyway. He had to be. He was with his parents. Bruce had to trust that they’d take care of their own son. They’d make sure he got sunscreen and give him plenty to do to keep him occupied. It wasn’t Bruce’s job to worry about the boy. He’d see him when he got home and until then, they just had to wait. 

Bruce would wait all year if it meant he’d actually be able to see the boy again.

Chapter Text

Bruce paused for a moment in front of the glass window looking into the seals and sea lions exhibit at the Gotham Zoo. Bruce had always been fond of both, though he wouldn’t call them his favorites. Still, he enjoyed watching them for a few moments now and then. They were majestic with just enough chaotic squish to make them rather… Adorable. It was a welcome change from the grime he saw every night. And the children gathered around giggling as a seal swam past just made it extra special. 

Dick stood beside him, looking through the glass like he was paying attention, but the smile on his face gave him away. Dick hadn’t calmed down since they’d been through the Africa exhibit–particularly the elephants. Dick had always loved the elephants, for as long as Bruce had known the boy. Bruce made sure to fit at least three zoo excursions into their life every year for Dick’s sake. Even now, his eldest was bouncing on his toes. If the last twenty-six zoo trips were anything to go by, that high would last him until tomorrow and no one would be able to pull him off the “best swinging chandelier” in the main entry. But it was worth it. Bruce would gladly feed Dick his dinner balanced on a pole if it meant seeing the boy that happy. 

Jason shifted from where he stood on Bruce’s other side, pulling Bruce from his thoughts. The boy wasn’t paying any attention to the seals and sea lions at all, instead directing his focus down the hall where the corner edge of the next window could barely be seen. Bruce had been here enough times to know exactly what exhibit was behind that window and knew Jason knew it too. 

Bruce smiled, laying a hand on Jason’s shoulder, startling the boy though he hadn’t meant to. 

“Sorry,” he grimaced slightly, but held out his hand down the hall, motioning for Jason to lead the way. “I think we’re ready to move on, chum.”

Jason grinned, all but bolting down the hall with Bruce and Dick close at his heels, rounding the corner to get a full view of the puffin enclosure. 

As it was the first Friday in July, the window was crowded with kids and families pointing at the three different types of seabirds, so Bruce stood back, letting Jason find a small opening to get closer to the window himself. Dick followed his lead, smiling at him as they watched Jason press as close to the glass as he could without touching it, his eyes level with the waterline so he could see both above and below as the thirty birds fought for their lunch. Feeding time was almost over, so they’d come just in time. 

Another ten minutes and the zookeeper who had been feeding them left so the birds calmed down. With the change, many of the families left to see other things and Bruce seized his chance to get closer to the glass and his son. He made sure his steps echoed through the hallway before he placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder again and this time, the boy didn’t startle. He looked up at Bruce and smiled, then turned back to the birds behind the glass. 

“Which one’s your favorite?” Bruce asked, shifting his focus to the enclosure as well. He didn’t need to see Jason’s face to know he was grinning. 

“The horned puffins,” Jason responded without hesitation, pointing out the seabirds with white bellies. “They look the most like the puffins on the books Mom used to read me.” 

Bruce paused, tears springing to his eyes. He hadn’t realized. 

Jason didn’t have any books with him when he’d come to live with them so he must have lost them all with his apartment. Bruce would have to do something about that. He knew Jason loved novels best but it wouldn’t hurt to add some of his old favorite children’s books to his collection. 

“But my favorite one,” Jason went on, unaware of Bruce’s emotions. “Is that one, there, on the rock.” 

Bruce followed Jason’s pointing to a puffin with an all black body, orange feet, and white around its eyes. 

“He makes sure the smaller ones get fish before all the big ones can hog it all.” 

Bruce smiled, pulling Jason close to his side, which the boy gladly let happen, resting his head on Bruce’s ribs. Bruce had no idea how he got so lucky with the kid who tried to jack his tires, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason smiled as they made their way through the new deep sea exhibit. It was the last place they hadn’t been yet, located at the back of the zoo, but it was awesome. Not quite as cool as the puffins, Jason always enjoyed seeing those, but it was awesome nonetheless. 

Dick was still bouncing happily beside him as they stopped in front of the octopus tank. According to the sign, there were two octopi in there, but at the moment, Jason couldn’t spot either. He knew they were good at camouflage but he hadn’t quite realized just how good. They were unsuspecting, apparently. With how many books and shows featured octopi, Jason would have expected them to be more… Entertaining. Instead of hiding in plain sight where he was surprised anyone had ever found them in the first place. 

Right as he thought that, one of the rocks moved and Bruce gasped, pointing out the suction cup that appeared to be connected to the “rock”. 

Ok, yeah, Jason could see why they were considered so entertaining. And they were probably a whole lot more active when they weren’t trapped in a cage being looked at every day. 

Something about it all reminded Jason of Tim. Plain, unassuming, blending into the open like he was a rock no one should pay any attention to, yet the moment they got him out of his cage, he started opening up. 

Jason missed watching the kid open up. He missed being able to look at the kid’s photographs or listen to his evil little giggle as they snuck him out for ice cream. Or watch him get better with a grapple gun around the cave. 

The kid didn’t deserve a cage. He didn’t deserve being the Drakes’ perfect little heir, constantly under scrutiny in the fish bowl of the press. Tim deserved to be out in the ocean, free to be himself, with people who wanted to see him free too. 

Maybe when they got back from India, they could drag Tim along to their next family zoo outing. 

Jason had a feeling the kid would love the octopi. 

Chapter Text

Jason leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he stared at the screen in front of him. Three camera feeds, all pointed at the same house from different sides, none of them with any results. It had been almost two months now. In fact it had been exactly… 

Jason shifted, pulling up the date. July 19th. 

Exactly one month, three weeks, and one day since they’d last seen Tim. And the kid was still gone. India, if the flight logs were to be believed. Jason didn’t have a reason not to believe them. 

Though there had been that one time when one of his cameras had caught a shift in one of the curtains at the Drake house. But that was it. No movement, no figures behind the curtains, just a tiny little shift. Like someone had left a window open somewhere or the air conditioner had come on. There was nothing else so that had to be it, right? The summer was getting hotter, the AC had to come on eventually or the house would suffer for it. It made sense. And no one had come or gone on any of his cameras since Jason had put them up. Not even a housekeeper or butler. Jason didn’t understand it but also couldn’t figure out anything wrong with it. They didn’t have any pets or anything else to take care of so they probably didn’t want to waste money on someone to dust when they can just clean the house right before they get back. 

Probably. 

It was the only explanation that made any sense anyway. 

Jason sighed, closing out of the camera feeds and pulling up Tim’s old tracking data. The kid had only taken one tracker with him when he left and based on the data, he’d put it down somewhere—probably a desk or something—and hadn’t picked it up since. Jason didn’t know what he was expecting, pulling up that data, it wasn’t like it was going to change. Tim was in India. There was no one to move that tracker. 

He sighed again, closing out of that feed as well and logging out of the computer as he stood. He had several alerts set to notify him of any mention of the Drakes in the news and he knew Bruce and Dick had several as well. He was wasting time staring at feeds that weren’t changing, they’d be the first to know when Tim got back in town. And in the meantime, it was Friday. Almost 4:00. Family game time. Bruce and Dick would be expecting him. Then they’d patrol later and life would keep moving. Game day would be a lot more fun with Tim, but even still, Jason was happy for the family he got. 

He started for the stairs, knowing he’d be late if he didn’t get up there soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce pulled into the garage at 3:56, grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, and all but ran into the house to drop his things in the study, throw on a t-shirt, and get to the family sitting room with seconds to spare. Dick was already there waiting for him with a stack of games, Jason bolting in just behind him. Meetings at WE had run long today and Bruce had barely made it out in time, but he was here. No one skipped out on Summer Friday Game Days. They’d break out a board game while Alfred made something amazing, then they’d eat, play more games, maybe watch a movie, and patrol after with ice cream or chili dogs thrown in there somewhere. It was a ritual Jason had started last summer and not one any of them would dream of missing. 

Except for Tim…

But Tim didn’t know, he’d left before summer started. They’d had game nights when Tim was with them, but it wasn’t quite the same as summer game nights. No school, windows open for a breeze, it was perfect. They just needed Tim. 

Bruce shook himself, pulling back to the present. Dick and Jason were here and he needed to focus on that. Tim would be back and they could drag him to the first Friday he was here for. They’d make it work. 

“So what are we playing?” Bruce flopped onto his chair, resting his elbows on his knees while he looked over the stack of games Dick had pulled out. 

Dick hummed thoughtfully and held one up. “Candy Land?”

“Oh come on!” Jason whined, to which Dick just laughed. “You always win!”

It was true. None of them could explain it. The game was almost entirely chance but Dick always won. Even since Dick was young, Bruce had never seen him lose. 

“Catan,” Jason suggested instead, only for Dick to smack him in the face with a pillow. 

“Oh, you wanna talk about always winning, Little Wing?”

Jason grabbed the pillow and threw it back in his older brother’s face then followed it across the coffee table, tackling Dick to the floor. Bruce didn’t bother to stop them, neither had any weapons and they were both trying not to laugh. No harm done.

“How about a card game?” 

Bruce barely got the words out before both his sons froze from their spots rolling around on the floor and turned on him with twin looks he could only describe as something Alfred taught them. With all the time he’d spent in casinos as Brucie Wayne, he usually dominated at card games and they all knew it. 

“Ok, ok,” Bruce caved, holding up his hands in defeat. “No card games.” 

“Yeah, no card games during board game time, Bruce.” Jason rolled his eyes, then paused, turning to look at his brother with an evil smirk that sent shivers down Bruce’s spine. Whatever they were plotting, Dick was in on it as his face soon matched and both boys turned back to Bruce again. 

He barely started to speak, a terrified question on his lips, before they sealed his fate in unison. 

“Monopoly.”

Oh no.

Oh no.

For all Bruce’s experience in the corporate world, he always lost Monopoly. Miserably. Who won would vary from game to game but Bruce always lost far sooner than anyone else. And there was nothing he could do. Looking at the grins on his sons’ faces, he’d already lost.

He groaned, burying his head in his hands as Dick and Jason cheered, already racing to set it up. This was how the afternoon would play out, apparently. It made them happy so he wouldn’t dream of complaining for real, but they enjoyed his misery, so he’d play along. 

They were already halfway through handing out money and setting everything out by the time Bruce looked up at them again. He leaned forward and grabbed the thimble to place it on the board next to the canon and battleship. He was going to be out in twenty minutes away, it wasn’t like his piece selection would change anything. 

“Alright!” Jason grinned as he set the newly mixed chance cards on the board and picked up a die. “Highest goes first.” 

He rolled, grinning as he got a 5, then Dick got a 6, and Bruce a 1. How fitting. 

Dick grabbed both dice and shook them in his hand, only for all three of them to freeze as the doorbell rang. If the blank looks were anything to go by, none of them had been expecting anyone. Alfred was in the kitchen making dinner so he should have seen them coming on the monitors, he never would have let whoever this was get to the doorbell before he met them at the door if he’d known they were coming so who…? 

“I’ll get it, Alfred!” Bruce called down the hall toward the kitchen as he stood. If Alfred didn’t know they were coming, it was likely he was elbow deep in flour or was kneading bread he couldn’t easily walk away from. And they hadn’t quite started the game yet so Bruce could get the door quick. 

Jason and Dick exchanged glances as he left, then started shuffling. If Bruce knew his sons—and what had happened last time the doorbell rang—they would be at a second story window to spy on their unexpected guest before Bruce got to the door. He couldn’t help a smile at the thought. The boys were nothing if not nosy. 

Bruce paused at the door, shifting into his Brucie Wayne persona before he swung the large oak open, ready to greet whoever was on the other side.

But he met no one at eye level. He paused, shifting his gaze downward, only for his brain to short circuit, Brucie Wayne dying somewhere in the hall. 

“...Tim?”

Chapter Text

“...Tim?”

Tim froze, rooted to the spot. He hadn’t really thought through what he would do once he got here. 

He hadn’t really been thinking at all. 

Mom and Dad forgot. They promised, but they forgot. They said they couldn’t risk calling him a lot while they were gone but they promised. If they called a lot, someone might notice, but just once… They could afford one call. Sometime today. To wish him a happy birthday. But it was already almost 2:00 in the morning in India. And no call. They’d already forgotten. 

Tim didn’t want to be alone again. Not today. 

So he ran out the door, snuck around all three of Jason’s cameras, and walked over to the Wayne’s. He hadn’t been thinking and now he didn’t know what to do. 

He just didn’t want to be alone. 

“...Tim?” Mr. Wayne was staring, his mouth was hanging open and his eyebrows so close together he was probably about to scream. 

This was it. Tim had finally done it. He’d broken Batman. 

He hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble, he didn’t want to be a problem. If he was a problem, they might get suspicious and figure out Tim wasn’t in India like Mom had told the Sharon lady. She said he couldn’t let anyone find out or Sharon would take him away from them. Mom said she wanted to hurt them, that she was just looking for a reason to take him away, so he had to be good. He had to stay quiet, not let anyone know he was there. He was 7–no, 8 now. He was old enough to stay home alone, but Sharon didn’t agree. So he couldn’t let anyone know. 

He couldn’t let Batman get suspicious. He couldn’t be a problem. 

And besides, if he was a problem, then the Waynes would send him away.

And then he’d have to go home and spend his birthday all alone. 

Again. 

Tim shifted his feet, glancing down at the stone steps he was standing on. He really should have thought through a plan before he showed up here. He didn’t want them to send him away. 

“Tim?” Something in Mr. Wayne’s tone shifted, less confused and more concerned. That wasn’t good… Tim couldn’t let him be concerned. 

He shifted, looking back up just as Mr. Wayne knelt down to be at eye level with him. 

“Um, hi, Mr. Wayne” Tim smiled awkwardly, trying his best to look shy and embarrassed. That was better than sad and lonely, right? Except Mr. Wayne looked horrified, why did he…? 

“Just Bruce, Tim,” Mr. Wayne corrected him and Tim had to resist the urge to slap his forehead. 

Bruce. He was Bruce when Mom and Dad weren’t around to scold him or yell at him for calling such a powerful man by his first name. 

Tim smiled, almost genuinely, and nodded. “Bruce.” He’d missed Bruce. And Jason and Dick and Alfred.

And Dick had said he missed him too! If he’d been talking to him, anyway. Tim almost couldn’t bring himself to hope he had been, or that it was true. People lied when they said they missed kids, anyway. No one ever actually missed him, they just said that to make him feel better. They’d still forget he existed, happy with their lives without him. So even if Dick had been talking to him that night, it didn’t necessarily mean he really missed him. But it was nice to pretend. 

“What are you doing here, chum?” Mr. W–Bruce was still talking to him, he was still right there. Tim had to keep pretending, he couldn’t get distracted. He had to pretend, just like Mom taught him. 

He had to think of a lie and fast. Batman would know they’d been in India, and Mom and Dad didn’t want people finding out he was alone sometimes, so he couldn’t say he’d come back by himself. He also couldn’t say they’d all got back with how many cameras Jason had watching his house. That left one option. 

“We got back yesterday,” Tim shifted, trying to look casual but nervous. Just like Mom taught him. Be just nervous enough to look cute, but not so nervous to look like you’re lying. “But the house is dusty so we’re staying at a hotel.”

That lie wouldn’t hold up if they tried to check airport flight logs. Tim would have to forge something, and then again to show them leaving in a couple days. It wouldn’t make sense if Jason’s cameras didn’t pick anything up soon so Tim would have to make it look like they left again. But he could manage that. Especially if he could get access to the Batcomputer tonight. 

He looked up at Bruce, who was softening at his words. A little confused, but mostly… Happy. Tim wasn’t completely sure why, but that was way better than suspicious. 

Tim could do this. He could pull it off. He wouldn’t be alone for his birthday and no one would ever know. 

He could do this. 

“I was wondering…” Tim swallowed, shifting his eyes downward. His throat got tight all of a sudden, though he wasn’t sure why this was so much harder to say than lying to Batman’s face had been. 

“Yeah, Tim?” Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently for Tim to speak. 

Why was it so hard? It was just one little question? 

But Mom and Dad would be so disappointed in him if he ever asked them. He didn’t know if he could handle it if Bruce was that disappointed in him. Or yelled at him for being so selfish, not thinking of how his request would affect them. Bruce was busy, he didn’t have time for something like that. 

“It’s ok, Tim,” Bruce was almost whispering, just waiting. Waiting for Tim to speak. “You can ask me anything, Chum.”

Tim took a deep breath, unable to meet Bruce’s eyes. He really hoped Bruce wasn’t lying to him. 

“I was wondering if we could have a movie night? Maybe?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was wondering if we could have a movie night? Maybe?”

Bruce stared, his mind not quite catching up to the scene in front of him. Tim was here. He was really here. Somehow, they’d missed the Drakes getting back. Bruce didn’t know how that was possible, but he wasn’t going to complain about Tim showing up at his door. And asking for a movie night. 

“You don’t have to or anything, I know it’s a lot to ask and you’re busy and—”

“Of course we can!” Bruce grinned, cutting Tim off. He’d taken too long to respond and Tim had taken that as a no. Bruce wanted to hug the boy, but Tim didn’t like hugs. He’d have to make do with just smiling, making it clear as best he could that the answer was yes. A thousand times over, yes. “You’re always welcome here, Tim!”

Tim froze, staring for just a moment, before he smiled, blushing, and tried to hide his face. 

“Anytime, Tim.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently, trying to really drive that point home. “I mean that. We all love having you over.”

As if on cue, Bruce could hear footsteps thundering down the stairs and into the entryway. It took them longer than expected, they must have been just as shocked as he had been.

“TIM!!” Jason got there first, nearly barreling into the boy in his haste to hug him and spin him around with the force of it. Bruce didn’t have time to stop him, but surprisingly, Tim didn’t complain. 

Jason put him down for a moment, only for Dick to attack him, whispering that he missed him and squeezing him tight for a moment before pulling back and letting go too. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. 

Tim shifted, smoothing down his clothes and trying to hide the blush in his cheeks and the smile he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Then he shifted, making sure there was distance between himself and the next attack, so Bruce didn’t push his luck. To his son’s credit, Dick and Jason both seemed to get the hint as well and didn’t try for any more physical contact. This was still Tim, after all. 

Though Jason wasted no time before ensuring Tim couldn’t just run off again.

“You’re just in time for Monopoly!” 

“Yeah,” Dick joined in, grinning. “Bruce is going to lose so fast.”

Bruce groaned, hanging his head. “One of these days…” he muttered, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

His sons just laughed, enjoying his misery. 

“Come on!” Jason grinned, waving Tim to follow him inside. “We haven’t even started yet, we can deal you in!”

Tim only hesitated a moment before following Jason inside and giving Bruce a small pat on the shoulder to show his sympathy while he passed. It wasn’t a hug, but Bruce would take it. 

Then just like that, his sons were off to the family sitting room to get Tim set up with money and a game piece, and Bruce couldn’t be happier.

Chapter Text

Dick had learned two things about Tim in the last hour. The first one had become clear within a few minutes of sitting down and starting the game: Tim had no idea how to play Monopoly. The Baby Bird had apparently never even heard of it before. After they’d figured that out, they took a few minutes to explain to him how it worked and reset the game, starting over to give Tim a fair chance. 

That was about when the second thing started to become more and more evident: Tim didn’t need a fair chance. 

The Baby Bird was dominating.

He’d no sooner figured out how to play before he somehow managed to get his hands on all three of the light blue properties and upgraded them to hotels before Bruce had even made it out of jail and passed Go once. Dick still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to pull that off but he wasn’t completely unconvinced Tim hadn’t used puppy eyes behind their backs and conned Bruce into selling him Vermont Avenue. Whether or not Bruce realized it would give Tim the full Monopoly was also still in question. Dick and Jason hadn’t noticed either until after Tim had hotels on the place. 

By that time it was too late. 

Fifty minutes into the game and Tim had the Light Blues, Pinks, Yellows, and Greens, all with hotels. Plus full monopolies on the Utilities, the Reds, and the Dark Blues, but hadn’t yet got them up to hotels. Jason had managed to secure all four of the Railroads and Dick had the Oranges but couldn’t ever get enough money to get more than four houses between all three properties before Tim bankrupt him again. And Bruce was out twenty minutes ago.

Maybe it was beginner’s luck, but from the unassuming little smirk Tim only ever seemed to be sporting when Dick caught him out of the corner of his eyes, he doubted it. 

Tim was apparently just that good. 

Heaven help them all if the Baby Bird ever went rogue. 

And now… Now Dick was in trouble. He had four properties to his name, all of them mortgaged, and only forty dollars. And to top it all off, he was sitting on Indiana Avenue, perfectly lined up to land on any of the Yellows or the Greens. His only saving grace would be jail, which he wouldn’t be able to pay anyway. Still, it was better than landing on one of Tim’s properties, right? 

He took a deep breath, jiggled the dice in his hands, and then dropped them. Four and five, that was a high number, too high to be jail but might be just enough to hit the Community Chest square and—

And Tim was holding his hand out for payment. 

The kid already knew where Dick was going and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. $1,250 to the Baby Bird. $1,210 that he didn’t have.

Dick sighed, handing over all four of his mortgaged properties and his forty bucks, then took his cannon off the board.

He could practically hear Jason sweating. 

The outcome was already set in stone, it was only a matter of time. Tim now had eight of the possible ten monopolies in the game and Jason only had one. And it was the Railroads. He was so screwed. 

Dick chanced a glance over at Tim, nearly bursting out laughing at the evil little grin on his face. 

Dick had missed his Baby Bird so much.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a slow night. Rather odd, for a Friday, but Jason wasn’t complaining. All of the rogues were currently accounted for, the last big attack had been Monday, so they weren’t due for another for hopefully a week at least. The petty crime had been fairly standard if a little below average tonight. They’d been patrolling for three hours and had stopped four muggings and an attempted kidnapping. It was 1:00AM now and about time for another kidnapping, if Jason did say so himself. 

As if on cue, Alfred’s voice came over the comms informing them all that he would be stepping out to make a pre-bed snack, leaving them in the capable hands of Agent T while he was gone. 

Which was all Jason needed to know. 

He grappled down to street level, pulled his bike out of the garage he’d left it in, and took off toward the cave. Bruce was tied up talking to the police about the attempted kidnapping and Dick was walking to the victim home so it was up to Jason to retrieve the kid. 

It only took him a couple minutes to make it back to the cave, then he glided and shut off his bike, taking the stairs to the main platform two at a time to find the kid at the batcomputer right where Jason assumed he’d be. 

“Replacement!” Jason called to him, wincing when the kid practically jumped out of his skin. Maybe Jason should have been a bit quieter…

Tim shuffled, messing around on the computer and then turning toward Jason, who just grinned at him. 

“Go get changed, we don’t have much time before Alfred gets back.”

The kid took a few moments to process the command, finally realizing what Jason meant as his eyes went wide and he bolted for the lockers. Another minute and Agent T ran back out, dressed in armored black from head to toe, his domino mask securely over his eyes. Jason grinned and tossed him an extra black helmet before running back toward his bike, the kid right on his heels. 

“Robin?”

Jason froze, one leg halfway over his bike as he looked back to Tim with an eyebrow raised. Though Tim probably didn’t know how to tell when someone was raising an eyebrow under a domino mask so he should probably actually acknowledge Tim verbally before Tim got confused or—

“Why’d you call me Replacement?” 

Jason grinned wide, even as he could feel the color rushing to his cheeks. He’d never said that out loud before. 

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Jason shifted, sitting on his bike so his hands were free to scratch the back of his neck. Tim just looked confused. “You’re going to be my replacement? Like I was Dick’s replacement? At least… If I have anything to say about it, I’m choosing you.”

Jason offered a hesitant smile, watching the gears turn in Tim’s head before the kid finally seemed to catch on to what Jason was saying. Then the whites of his domino mask went wide, his mouth dropping open in shock. And Jason’s smile turned into a grin. 

“You gotta come visit us though!” Jason reached out to ruffle his hair like Dick and Bruce did to him all the time. “You’re missing out on all your training!” 

Tim giggled and Jason pulled him closer, helping him onto the back of his bike. 

“No more running off to India, ok?” Jason grinned, pulling on his helmet. “We miss you, you gotta stick around.”

Tim hesitated, but nodded against Jason’s back before pulling his own helmet on as Jason started the bike. 

Time for the Summer Friday Game Night ice cream run. 

But with Tim this time. 

With his Replacement.

Chapter Text

Six muggings, one attempted kidnapping, and an escaped abuser caught and returned to police custody before he could lay a hand on his wife or kids. And one ice cream run with three kids. It’d been a slow night, but a good night. Bruce wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Now it was nearly 3 in the morning and Batman was the last one out, watching over his city. 

Robin had been sent home and to bed half an hour ago, Nightwing electing to go with him as he had to be up early to meet up with friends. Early for vigilante standards anyway. And Agent A had sent Agent T to bed almost as soon as they got the boy home from ice cream. He’d protested at first, said something about calling a taxi cab to get back to his hotel, but Alfred insisted it was late enough he should stay the night. Bruce had offered to take him but Tim had turned that down too, opting instead to stay the night. 

It was odd, especially when Bruce couldn’t remember when the boy had called his parents to let them know he’d be gone for longer than a movie night. But he had probably just texted them or something. Or snuck off at some point. Tim was very good at sneaking off. 

Whatever the case, he was safe in bed and they’d be able to see him again in the morning. 

Batman took a deep breath, letting out a slow sigh when he smelled rain. A storm, no doubt. Gotham was usually overcast, if he could smell the storm coming, it would be a big one. It had been a slow night anyway, there wasn’t much point left to standing outside in the rain. Bruce would rather be home with his family anyway, tucked away from it all, listening to the sound of the storm around them. Dick was seventeen now but he still had a habit of crashing with Bruce when a big thunderstorm came through, and knowing Dick, he’d drag Jason and Tim with him. 

Yeah, Bruce would much rather be home. 

He grappled down to street level and pressed a button on his belt, calling the Batmobile to him, then jumped in and sped home. Even with the speeds he drove, he still only managed to make it to Bristol before the first drops of water started hitting his windshield. Another few seconds and he could barely see in front of him. 

He smiled, pulling into the cave a minute later and climbing out of the car. He took another few minutes to hit the locker room, strip his suit, take a quick shower, and change into sweatpants and a hoodie, then head for the stairs. 

And then paused as he passed the Batcomputer. 

It was already storming. 

He wanted to get upstairs to be with his sons. 

But a quick search wouldn’t hurt anything, right? It would only take a minute and Bruce had been burning with questions ever since Tim had shown up. Bruce had four separate programs set to notify him of any mention of the Drakes, and he knew Jason, Dick, and Alfred all had at least one each, yet Tim’s presence in the US had been a complete surprise. Bruce had to know. 

He grabbed the keyboard, typing in his password even as he sat down, then pulled up the flight logs from Gotham airport as fast as they would load. Which, considering what computer he was working with, was almost instantly. A quick search confirmed there was no mention of the Drakes anywhere on any flight, yet they had to have gotten back somehow. 

Bruce frowned, pulling up the private flight logs and looking closer. 

There.

A flight two days ago, three unnamed passengers, from Spain, but it had only been there for four days. Before that it had originated in India. 

Bruce had programs running looking for mentions of any of the three Drakes and there were none. His backup program monitoring private flights from India to the US only considered three days a layover, not four. They’d managed to slip right under the radar, entirely by accident. He would definitely need to fix that next time. 

If there is a next time. 

Which there wouldn’t be. 

Right?

Bruce couldn’t let that happen. Even though he had no idea how he could stop it… He had no say over what the Drakes did with their child, all he could do was keep Tim close while he was—

“Bruce!!”

He jumped, spinning toward the stairs as Jason came barreling down them, eyes frantic until they landed on Bruce, then he ran straight for him. 

Bruce opened his arms for his son, letting Jason slam into him without slowing down. The boy was already a mess and Bruce’s stomach dropped at what he knew was coming. 

“Tim’s gone, B…” He sniffled, trying to keep his voice even, and Bruce couldn’t help but agree. “He must have taken a taxi or something, he’s gone.”

Gone.

They wouldn’t even be able to see him in the morning. 

He was gone. 

Bruce pulled Jason tighter, unable to get anything passed the lump in his throat. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was grinning to himself. He hadn’t been able to stop. He was glad his parents were in India or they’d yell at him for not being able to keep his emotions hidden. But they were in India, and there was no one here to yell at him. There was no one to make his birthday bad. 

It’d been the best birthday ever. 

First he beat everyone in that Monopoly game—board game. They’d called it a board game. Apparently there were more of them. Lots of board games. Tim couldn’t wait to play more of them. 

First he’d beat everyone and they’d all been… Happy about it? Somehow? They were scared but they were smiling, laughing. They liked playing with him, even if he beat them. And Tim loved that. And then they’d eaten dinner and it was shepherd’s pie with green beans and fresh bread and Alfred’s shepherd's pie was the best, and then they’d gone to watch a movie like he asked and let him pick it and ate fresh popcorn with seasonings the whole time and then they’d all gone out to patrol so Tim could be Agent T again and then they even snuck him out for ice cream! And Jason said he was his replacement. And Dick said he missed him and Bruce smiled, even though he was Batman and they were in Gotham and someone could see him, he still smiled, and no one yelled at him. No one ever said he was asking too much or didn’t deserve their time, they just hung out with him anyway. 

It was the best birthday he’d ever had. Maybe next year he could sneak out to the Waynes again and—

He tripped on a root, then slipped on some mud when he tried to recover and went down, tumbling through the grass and twigs and more mud. He probably looked like a mess, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was still smiling. 

He pulled himself back up, knowing the pouring rain would wash the dirt off before he got back to his house anyway. He’d probably need to take a hot shower before he went to bed and get some dry clothes, but that was ok. He could mop up the water he’d track in in the morning. It’d be fine, right? 

But he couldn’t remember the walk to the Waynes taking this long. 

And he didn’t remember that fallen tree. 

That was fine, though, right? It probably just fell during the storm, he was still on the right track. 

Maybe he should have left some lights on in his house so he could find it in the storm. But Jason would have seen that on his cameras so he couldn’t do that. And he didn’t know it would be storming when he came home anyway. So he’d just have to push through it. Even if he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. He had to be getting close, right? He just needed to keep going. 

But it already felt like forever, and it was so late and Alfred wouldn’t have let Tim have any coffee even if he had been brave enough to ask so Tim was getting tired. 

Maybe he didn’t need to find his house tonight. Maybe he could just find a big tree that was dry underneath and wait until morning for the storm to pass. Then he could take a hot shower and make himself some coffee and it would be fine. 

Tim shivered, wrapping his arms around himself tighter as he leaned his face away from the pelting rain. Yeah, that seemed like a great idea, actually. There were plenty of trees everywhere and the ground wasn’t actually that uncomfortable. He’d just find his house in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Jason sniffled, hugging Bruce tight as his anger and sadness slowly turned to worry. He had no idea why Tim would just lie to them and run off like that, but the kid was kind of an idiot sometimes and they needed to find him. Before he got kidnapped again or died of hypothermia. He probably had some stupid reason for not wanting them to find out about what he was doing. Maybe he was even dumb enough to walk home and knew they’d never let him do that. Why he would think that’s a good idea or feel the need to do so, Jason had no idea. Maybe his parents were trying to save money on a taxi… 

Jason took a deep breath, sniffled again, and pulled away from Bruce’s hug to look him in the eyes. 

“We need to find him.” 

Bruce met his eyes for a moment, then nodded, standing and turning to the batcomputer. 

“Here,” he said, handing Jason a comm and putting another in his own ear. “See what you can find on the security system, I’m going to see what I can find upstairs. Keep me updated.” 

Jason nodded, immediately hopping into the chair as Bruce started running upstairs. He wasted no time pulling up the security footage of the house, then clicking on the feed from the bedroom hall first and rewinding until he saw Tim go into his bedroom. Only he hadn’t seen the kid come out on those feeds… 

He squinted, analyzing the footage from just after Tim went into his bedroom and then a few minutes after until he saw it. A slight glitch. Normal on anyone else’s security, but not in Batman’s home. Tim had looped the footage. 

Jason muttered something under his breath and then commed Bruce to let him know what he’d found, quickly checking the rest of the security cameras on the property to see they’d all glitched at the same second. The kid was nothing if not infuriatingly smart and thorough. 

Bruce responded an affirmative, but something about his tone sounded unsure. 

“Jason…” he started, and Jason sat up straighter. “I think the cameras are a decoy. His window’s unlocked.”

Jason froze, his mouth hanging open at the sheer stupidity that was Timothy Drake. The bedrooms were on the second story. And the manor had tall stories. How exactly had he…?

“Please tell me he didn’t jump…”

Bruce was quiet for a moment and Jason held his breath. 

“There’s a tree about four feet from his window. Twigs broken near the trunk, so I think he made it. Doesn’t look like anyone hit the ground hard either.”

Well that was something at least. Jason breathed a small sigh of relief and kept combing through the camera feeds as he heard shuffling over Bruce’s comm. He was talking to someone, probably Dick, told him to check Drake Manor, just in case, but stick to the roads so he didn’t get lost in the rain. Dick responded something Jason couldn’t hear, then another comm came online. 

“Hey, Big Bird,” Jason muttered as he pulled up the feeds from the three cameras he had on Drake Manor, but he couldn’t see much. Between the dark and the rain, outside cameras were all but useless. 

“Hey, Little Wing.” Dick responded, an obvious acknowledgement that he knew he had a man on comms, but they didn’t say anything else. All too focused on the job at hand. 

There was movement through both comms, undoubtedly Bruce and Dick both heading toward the front door and outside. Which was confirmed a minute later when the quiet shuffling turned to rainfall. Bruce headed around the house and Dick took off running—probably barefoot again if the lack of an echo of boots was anything to go on. Jason had tried before to tell him there was stuff he could step on but he just complained shoes were restrictive and laughed Jason off. So he wasn’t going to mention it again. Besides, Bristol’s roads were pretty clean, especially in the middle of a rainstorm.

“It’s raining too hard,” Bruce’s voice came over the comms then, clearly frustrated. “Any tracks he may have left are long gone.”

Of course they were. Jason had to resist the urge to pound his head on the desk. He had no idea if leaving during a rainstorm to cover his tracks was intentional or not, but it would explain why the kid now.

“I’m searching the woods anyway, Jason, you have my tracker?”

Jason nodded, mostly to himself as he double checked the signal was strong. 

“Yeah, Bruce, I’ve got you.”

The woods could get confusing in a rainstorm, even Bruce wasn’t stupid enough to go in alone without a backup plan to get back out. Jason could only hope Tim hadn’t been that stupid. 

The comms went quiet for a few minutes after that, Bruce’s tracker headed deeper into the woods and Dick closing in on Drake Manor while Jason continued searching for any signs of, well… Anything on the cameras. 

Another few minutes and Dick’s voice came back over the comms. 

“There’s nothing here. House is empty, no water puddles by any of the doors, no tracks outside. Tim hasn’t been here since it started raining.”

That made sense. He was going back to a hotel in Gotham somewhere, not his house. Would have been more confusing—though relieving—if Dick had found him there. 

“No sign of him in the woods either.” 

Jason opened his mouth to respond but froze when he finally caught something on the cameras. He couldn’t make out much through the darkness, rain, and constant glitching, but there was unmistakably a large yellow shape in front of the manor. For at least half a minute.

“Taxi pulled up half an hour ago,” Jason reported, trying his best to make the footage clearer, see if he could actually get Tim on the screen. “Stayed for about a minute but I can’t make much out other than the yellow blur.”

The comms went silent again until Bruce sighed. 

“Dick, head back to the manor, Jason, tell me if I stray off the course for home.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was still dark out when Tim woke up, but it was quieter at least. He couldn’t hear any thunder or rain on the leaves around him so that was a good sign, right? He wasn’t sure if he could find his house yet without any light, but he was so cold he didn’t really care. He wanted a hot cup of coffee more than anything else in the world right now and home was the only place to get that. 

He pushed himself up, brushing as much of the dirt and twigs off his wet clothes as he could, and wrapped his arms around himself. Maybe he should have grabbed a jacket before he left yesterday… But how was he supposed to know it was going to rain? 

Whatever, it didn’t really matter now, he just had to get inside. 

He looked around, squinting in the darkness and trying to remember which way he’d come from. He couldn’t even find his footsteps under the tree. But the trees almost looked a little thinner to his left so he might as well try going that way and see what happens. He only took ten steps before smacking his own head. Even in the darkness, Drake Manor stood as a stark contrast against the dark blue of the sky. He’d been that close and had decided to sleep under a tree instead. He could never let the Waynes find out about this. He’d be so embarrassed.

He sneezed, shaking his head to clear it as he took another step toward his house, but stopped just in time, remembering Jason’s cameras. One of which was strapped to the branch of a tree just feet above his head. Another step and he would have been right in view. He sighed instead, walking around to the one side he knew Jason’s cameras couldn’t see, then crept toward the house and in the window he’d left unlocked. Jason had views on all of the doors, Tim had to make do.

He closed the window after him and sneezed, hugging himself tight again as he went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He was freezing, shivering cold, but coffee would warm him right up. It always did when he came home soaking wet and freezing. Coffee solved everything. He’d be fine. 

And he’d had the best birthday ever. 

Totally worth it. 

Chapter Text

Tim coughed, then coughed again when it didn’t seem to help clear his throat. And again. Seven times, he counted. The record was thirteen so far. It still hadn’t helped. Nothing he did had helped. 

He couldn’t seem to get the mucus out of his throat, he couldn’t stop shivering, he couldn’t get warm, and he couldn’t even stay asleep for more than an hour or two before he woke up coughing again. The shower had only helped a little, but then his wet hair just got cold and that made it worse. His coffee was warm but it didn’t feel good on his throat. It didn’t seem to matter how many blankets he piled on the couch to burrow under, it wasn’t enough. And he didn’t want to move to his bed, that was way too far from the kitchen. He just wanted… Something. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. 

He was sick, sure. But he could handle it. Just like Mom told him, he was old enough to take care of himself. Had been for years already, he’d just ride this out. Just like he always did. It never lasted more than a couple weeks anyway. He’d be fine. 

Even if he didn’t want to be. 

He had to be responsible, like Mom always said. He had to be independent and in control of himself before he could hope to be in control of anything else. 

He could do this. 

He just wished his head would stop pounding so hard. 

He coughed again—his whole body shaking with the force of it—and reached for his mug, which came up empty. 

He could cry. 

Maybe he would. It’s not like there was anyone here to see him…

But Mom and Dad would probably find out somehow. And then scold him for it. 

He closed his eyes and took as deep of a breath as he could, then crawled out from under his blankets. He took one with him, wrapping it around his shoulders while he shuffled to the kitchen to start a new pot of coffee. Someday he’d invent a coffee pot that would brew the stuff in less than a minute… Five minutes was killing him. 

He shivered and wrapped the blanket around himself tighter, then stepped closer to the machine. It wasn’t putting off much heat but it was just enough to warm his face. Just a little. 

Five minutes couldn’t go any slower. 

He just wanted to go back to bed. 

And when the machine finally finished, he wasn’t ready for it. He was so cold, he didn’t want to uncurl from his blanket. 

But the coffee would help, so he had to. 

He sighed, extracting one hand from his blanket so he could grab the pot and pour himself a cup, which he downed almost immediately. It was so warm. Felt so good. But burned his throat on the way down and he started coughing again. Fifteen times this time. New record. 

Alfred’s tea never burned him like that. It never made him cough or hurt. Tim had never questioned it before. Coffee was good when you were sick, right? It was warm and had calories, right? That made it good for a cold. Or at least, Tim thought so. But Alfred’s tea was so much better. 

Tim had no idea how to make tea though. He should have asked Alfred to teach him. 

He could look it up online but the bright lights of his laptop screen would hurt and he couldn’t turn the lights on or Jason would notice on his cameras. He would just have to live with it. He’d be fine. 

He filled his mug again and shuffled back to the couch, taking another small sip of the hot liquid before he set the mug down on its coaster and crawled back under his pile of blankets. He couldn’t stop shivering, but at least his nest was warmer. Not like Bruce’s hugs though. Bruce was so warm and squishy, he just wanted… 

No. He couldn’t. He’d get through this. He just needed to take another nap and then he’d feel better. 

But he could barely sleep. He was so tired but he could barely sleep. He’d already dreamed of waking up to the sound of Jason’s voice reading to him three times in the last day, but it wasn’t real. He couldn’t go back to the Waynes or they’d figure it out and then Sharon would take him away and Mom and Dad would be so angry if he ever even saw them again and… 

And maybe he could have some of Alfred’s tea without them finding out. Maybe… Maybe if he just called… And said he was calling from the hotel, then Alfred could tell him how to make tea and that would be fine. He’d never figure anything out and at least Tim could have… 

Maybe when he woke up. Maybe he could call him. 

Right now he just wanted to sleep. And get warm. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce pursed his lips as he stared at the screen in front of him. He’d been here for what felt like days and couldn’t come up with anything. If the batcomputer wasn’t so incredibly large, he’d be tempted to hurl it across the cave. It just wasn’t adding up.

The Drakes’ flight had landed four days ago. According to Tim they were staying in a hotel in Gotham somewhere before someone could clean their house. But none of the Drakes were registered in any of the Gotham hotels and even now, no one had been to the Drake estate in weeks. Were they checked into their hotel under an alias? That was a possibility if they were trying to avoid the paparazzi, but that didn’t explain the lack of staff sent to their house. No one had managed to spot them between the airport and whatever hotel they were at and none of them had stepped foot in the DI building in months. Unless they had some secret entrance hidden from security cameras but the blueprints of the building didn’t seem to leave any room for such a thing. 

On top of all of that, Bruce couldn’t actually track down the taxi Tim had used. The security footage hadn’t managed to pick up a license plate number through the rain and none of the taxis had any sort of records showing they’d picked anyone up in Bristol no less taken them to a hotel. Bruce had gone so far as to hack the Drakes’ bank accounts, which had not been an easy task, but he’d come up empty there too. None of their credit cards had been used at all in the last week and a half which simply didn’t make sense. The last purchase had been a cash withdrawal at a bank in India, but that was still within the time they would have been there, though the cash wouldn’t have done them any good in the days they were in Spain or once they got back to the US. 

He’d gotten so frustrated that he’d broken into the airport last night to find the private jet the Drakes had flown in on, but even that was nowhere to be found. There was no flight log of it leaving the airport again so it should still be in Gotham but the jet simply wasn’t there. 

After that he’d tried calling every number he could for the Drakes. No one had picked up any of them. Not their house, not their India phone numbers or US cell phones, even their company lines went to their secretaries who hadn’t seen them. The secretaries could be lying, of course, but it still didn’t add up.

Bruce had only searched for the Drakes hotel room yesterday to double check Tim had actually gotten back safe, but the longer he searched, the more nothing made sense. It just didn’t add up. 

Bruce groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. He’d been staring at this screen for… 

He froze when he saw the time. It was already 10:00 in the morning. Dick and Jason would be getting up soon, Alfred would have breakfast ready and Bruce was still in the batcave in half his Batman suit, cursing out a mystery he couldn’t seem to solve. 

He needed rest before he went insane. Even if he didn’t sleep, he needed… Coffee. Some food and maybe a short nap, or just some time with his family to clear his head. Maybe coming back in an hour with a fresh perspective would help. 

It was worth a shot anyway. 

He sighed, pushing his chair back and standing to head to the locker rooms where he stripped his suit, took a quick shower, and put on some comfortable clothes. Then he went for the stairs, out the study, down the hall, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Where Alfred was making breakfast. 

Or would be… If he wasn’t on the phone. 

“Yes, of course, sir. You’re welcome anytime.”

Bruce froze in the doorway, staring at his butler and father figure whom he had never seen use such a tone on the phone. It was almost… endearing? Bruce would have assumed he was talking to Dick or Jason if not for the fact he knew they were both still in bed. And there was a worried crease in Alfred’s forehead, a tell usually only invoked from the older gentleman when one of them was actively bleeding. A lot. Which they weren’t. 

They weren’t, right? 

Surely Dick and Jason would have stayed in their beds and not run off where they got stabbed and had to call home and—

“Master Bruce,” Alfred pulled him out of his thoughts as he hung up the receiver, already taking half cooked pans off the stove to stop them from burning while he… 

Bruce didn’t know what he was about to do, actually. 

“I have something important I need to check on and will be taking leave for the next hour. Please don’t burn the house down in my absence.”

With that, the older man left the room, disappearing in the direction of the garage and somehow leaving Bruce with even more questions than he’d had before he came upstairs. 

He’d never seen Alfred just walk away from the kitchen like that.

Chapter Text

He almost hadn’t picked up when the phone started ringing. He’d glanced at the caller ID only to see it was blocked. No caller ID. He’d considered letting it ring, just going back to making breakfast. But something didn’t sit right. Maybe it was his young partner’s disappearance from right under his nose not even 32 hours ago. Maybe it was his eldest charge’s recent obsession with a case that left the man more confused with every hour he spent at it. Maybe it was pure curiosity or the desire to mess with whoever thought this house would be an easy target. Whatever it was that drove him, Alfred picked up the phone and answered like usual. 

“Wayne residence.”

“Alfred?”

He nearly dropped the phone in surprise and relief. 

“Master Tim, what can I do for you?”

The line went silent for several seconds as Alfred’s relief vanished as quickly as it had come. The lad was coughing. Trying to muffle the noise in his arm or a pillow, but Alfred could still hear it. 

“Well, um.” Tim’s voice came back over the line, horse but clearly trying to hide it as he cleared his throat and attempted to speak normally. It didn’t work. It was better, but Alfred could still hear the strain. “I was wondering how to make tea?”

Alfred pursed his lips at the question, his mind running a thousand kilometers a second. If the young master was at a hotel like he claimed, he should be able to order tea. Or he likely wouldn’t have the kettle to make it himself anyway. And where were the lad’s parents? 

“Of course, Master Tim!” Alfred made sure to force a smile into his voice, the lad was very sensitive to displeasure, he seemed to be able to sense it from rooms away. The last thing Alfred wanted was to make the lad regret calling. “Do you have tea leaves or tea bags, sir?”

Tim paused for several moments as Alfred could hear movement on the other end of the line, fabric rustling against the phone as if the lad was wrapping himself up in something, then shuffling as he moved to another room, then finally rummaging as he likely searched for the tea. The young sir was almost certainly not in a hotel room. 

“Tea bags!” Tim finally responded triumphantly, followed by a thud which Alfred could only guess was the lad jumping off of a counter. 

“Very good, sir,” he hummed, listening for any other clues, but the line was quiet. “Now, do you have a kettle?”

Tim paused and Alfred could almost hear him frowning, the gears turning in his head as he pieced something together. 

“No—” the lad started, muffling another cough before continuing. “No kettle… Will a coffee pot work?”

Alfred had to resist the urge to let himself gape. A coffee pot. A used, potentially dirty coffee pot. For tea. 

He had to remind himself this was a seven year old he was dealing with. One who had never made tea before and his parents were clearly not home. Nor had any taste. 

“No, sir,” Alfred responded, making sure to keep his voice even and professional. “But a small pot and a stove will work.”

Small pot. Very small. Small enough the lad would be able to lift it by himself. Over a stove much too high for him. When Alfred already was already fairly certain he didn’t have a stool. And while the lad was clearly sick.

“Or a mug and a microwave.”

It was an insult to tea, but it was far better than letting his young partner burn himself. 

“Ok,” Tim sounded relieved as he shuffled around the kitchen and Alfred heard the microwave open and close. 

“Don’t forget to fill the mug with water, sir.”

Tim giggled and Alfred couldn’t help a small smile. 

“Of course, Alfred, I’m not Bruce.”

In the defense of his eldest charge, Master Bruce had been working on a big case and had brought the file with him into the kitchen where he was reading it over when he forgot to add water to his instant noodles. The whole household had heard the fire alarm and come into a kitchen filled with smoke. Masters Dick and Jason still loved telling that story—undoubtedly how Master Tim had heard it.

“Very good, sir,” Alfred smiled despite himself. “Now cook it for a minute or two depending on your microwave, just until it is hot to the touch.”

“Ok,” Tim responded, beeps from the microwave sounding in the background, followed by the unmistakable hum of the machine. “Then do I put the tea bags in?”

“Yes, sir,” Alfred confirmed, listening for any other background noise, but there was none. “Just one. And what kind of tea did you find?”

Tim paused, shuffling again before confidently responding. “Cham-o-mily.”

“Chamomile,” Alfred corrected his pronunciation gently, then continued before Tim could think anything of it. “That is a herbal tea, sir, so you should put one of the tea bags in your mug and leave it to steep for about eight minutes.”

“Eight minutes?” Tim sounded heart broken, and Alfred pursed his lips further. The lad clearly wanted his tea and then to go back to bed, his parents should be there. There was no reason a seven year old boy should be making his own tea while he was sick. 

“Yes, sir.” Alfred responded, again putting every bit of acting he had into his voice to make sure his frustration didn’t come out at the lad. He kept his voice fond and gentle instead. “Then it will be ready.”

“Ok,” Tim sighed, resigning himself to waiting. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” Alfred didn’t look up as Bruce shuffled into the kitchen behind him. “You’re welcome anytime.”

With that, Tim mumbled a goodbye and hung up the phone, leaving Alfred momentarily reeling. 

But it didn’t last long. 

Master Bruce was chasing his tail trying to figure out what hotel the Drake family was staying at, trying to make sure Tim made it there alright. But Alfred was fairly certain he knew exactly why Bruce was coming up empty. Why the only record of the Drakes being in Gotham was a flight log. 

After all, Alfred had left his young partner alone with the batcomputer. And the lad knew exactly how to sneak around Master Bruce. 

“Master Bruce,” Alfred hung the receiver back on the wall, immediately turning off the stove and moving all the pans he’d temporarily forgotten about off the stove. He didn’t have the time or care to check if they’d overcooked. “I have something important I need to check on and will be taking leave for the next hour. Please don’t burn the house down.”

With that, he left the room before his eldest charge could protest, walking quickly toward the garage. He wasted no time in starting the family car—the limousine, it would look less like a kidnapping should the Drake parents check the security footage—and then pulled out of the garage and down the drive toward Drake Manor. 

Even taking into account both driveways, the entire distance was less than a kilometer and only took him a couple minutes. He pulled into the looping drive that passed right by the front door of Drake Manor, then put the car into park and left it running with the heat up despite the July climate. Then he climbed the steps to the front door and knocked, but got no answer. Not that he expected one. If he were right and Master Tim was here, he didn’t want anyone to know. 

Alfred waited a few more moments, listening for any sounds from inside, then tired the door when he found none. Unsurprisingly, it was locked so he moved on. The next step was to find where the lad had, theoretically, been getting in and out. Alfred had seen Jason’s camera feeds. He knew there was a blind spot. Jason knew it too, but he’d covered all the doors and hadn’t thought it would be important to cover the entire house. After all, it wasn’t like he was trying to uncover a secret, he was just trying to see if anyone had been going in and out. None of them thought someone would be going in and out without wanting to be seen. And know where Jason’s blind spot was. Tim must have seen Jason put the cameras up to know where they were.

Still, there was a blind spot, on the South side, and Alfred headed straight for it. There were three windows without Jason’s surveillance, two were locked, but the third—the one with suspiciously Tim sized footprints in the mud leading up to it—slid open easily when Alfred pushed it.  

The first thing he noticed looking at the windowsill was the already disabled security, necessary if the lad had been using this window as a door. The second thing he noticed was the very well hidden second security system tucked between the ruts of the windowsill, extremely small, the same color as the sill. It didn’t have any bulky parts, just a small wire. Nearly invisible. But what else could it be if not security? Tim’s, undoubtedly. 

Alfred climbed in through the window, looking around at the dining room he appeared to be in. There wasn’t much to the room, it looked very similar to the one in Wayne Manor, but much less taken care of. There was a layer of dust across the table and chairs and the floor under the window looked like someone had spilled water on it and mopped it up in the dark, leaving dirty streaks all over the expensive hardwood. From a seven year old lad coming in soaking wet in a rainstorm, no doubt. 

Beyond that, there wasn’t much to see, so Alfred moved on to the adjoining kitchen. Where there was an open box of chamomile tea on the counter. 

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief that the lad was here—somewhere, he’d find him if he had to tear the entire house apart and let Master Bruce foot the bill, but he was here —but simultaneously felt a wave of pure rage at the implications. 

Jack and Janet Drake weren’t back in America, they were undoubtedly still in India and Master Tim had been here, alone, the entire time. Hiding away from the world for reasons Alfred couldn’t quite put together yet. But he’d find out. He’d find the lad and then he’d come for Jack and Janet Drake. But he still had to find the lad. 

He looked around the kitchen, searching for any sign of anything suspiciously out of place, but nothing was. None of the cabinets were left ajar, there were no recent footprints to follow or anything else suggesting Tim may or may not be in the kitchen. Though there was a very small camera lens hidden between a row of wine glasses near the top of the cabinets. It was so well hidden Alfred almost missed it. Tim’s again, no doubt. Between that and the wires on the window, the lad had to know Alfred was there. Yet the house remained quiet. 

Alfred pursed his lips and kept moving, hoping against hope that the lad wouldn’t try to leave and hide in the woods. Though to do that, he would have to leave more footprints in the mud under the window, so Alfred would know as long as he was still in the house. He’d find him eventually. 

He had to go back through the dining room again to get to the next room, this one a sitting room of sorts with more to look through than the dining room but less than the kitchen. There were couches and recliners around the room with end tables and other such furniture where one would expect. Most of the room looked to be in order, but there were two exceptions: first was the couch nearest the kitchen piled with blankets and second was Tim’s favorite mug—the one with the faded Bolivian flag—placed on a coaster on the end table closest to the head of that couch, steam gently rising from the now oversteeped tea inside. 

Oversteeped and still full… Like the lad hadn’t even taken a sip. But he’d wanted tea bad enough to risk being found out and call Alfred for it, he should have had time to at least drink some of it. 

Unless… 

Alfred moved closer, shifting to the other side of the couch where he could get a better look at the end of the blankets nearest the tea. Where he came face to face with Tim, eyes closed in sleep and black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, but shivering even now. 

The lad hadn’t wanted to wait 8 minutes. More than likely, he’d left the tea to steep while he crawled back into his nest of blankets and fallen asleep before the 8 minutes were up. He wasn’t hiding throughout the house. He didn’t know Alfred was there as he’d slept through any alarms he had set up to know of intruders. Which was one more thing to be concerned about, how easily someone could break in without the lad even being aware of it, home all alone. That and how obviously sick he was. 

Alfred knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his forehead, disappointed but unsurprised at the heat he felt. 

“Master Tim…” he called the lad’s name softly, relieved when he stirred, opening his eyes to look up at the older gentleman. 

“Alfred…?” Tim mumbled, a wave of emotions flying over his face almost too fast to see. Relief, confusion, panic, fear. 

“It’s alright, lad,” Alfred tried to comfort him, but Tim cut him off. 

“Mom and Dad were just… Um… They’re out.” Tim finished lamely, clearly searching for a believable lie. “They’re at the hotel, they’ll be back soon but you can’t be here—” he coughed and Alfred pulled some of his blankets back to help him sit up. 

“No, sir.” Alfred couldn’t stand to watch the lad squirm. “I know they are still in India. That you have never been with them.”

Tim’s face filled with fear, then his eyes started wandering, darting around the room, looking for an escape. 

“You can’t tell anyone!” Tim was panicking, and Alfred didn’t know why, but was glad for Jack and Janet Drake’s sake that they weren’t currently within range of his fist. 

“You can’t tell anyone, please,” Tim looked back at Alfred, apparently having realized how futile attempting to run would be as he was struggling to even sit up straight. “Sharon’s gonna take me away and—” Tim was cut off again by more coughing, and Alfred couldn’t stand to watch any further. He gathered the lad in his arms—appalled by how light he was—and wrapped him up in the most worn blanket on the couch, which Alfred guessed was his favorite. Then he held him close, but loosely enough to allow the lad to cough freely. 

“Don’t speak, sir. You’ll hurt your throat.” Alfred held him upright so the lad could drink while Alfred held his mug up to his lips. The tea was oversteeped and likely bitter, but it would be better than nothing. Which, Alfred was appalled to realize, was the alternative. The lad didn’t even have a glass of water beside him. But somehow, that wasn’t the most concerning thing.

He’d said Sharon. Not CPS, or “they” or anything else that would hint at his parents using the hypothetical Child Protective Services as a threat, which was undoubtedly what that had been. No, the lad had said Sharon. There was already a caseworker. One he’d met, who had told him to use her first name or, knowing Tim, he wouldn’t have. The Drakes were already being investigated for their obvious neglect. And had scared Tim into making sure no one found out about it. 

For their own sake, Jack and Janet Drake should consider extending their stay in Asia permanently. 

“You’re sick, sir,” Alfred kept his voice quiet and gentle, but firm. “I am taking you back to Wayne Manor with me—” Tim’s eyes widened so Alfred continued quickly before he could panic. “—I give you my word, no one will be taking you away anywhere else. You will be safe. I promise you, sir.” 

Tim didn’t look convinced, but Alfred wasn’t going to leave him here alone again. 

“Besides,” he added. “You need some proper tea to restore your strength.” 

Tim actually seemed to hesitate at that, then gave up, sinking into Alfred’s arms as he closed his eyes again. 

“Promise?” the lad mumbled, already half asleep again. 

“I give you my word, lad.”

He waited another moment before Tim’s breathing evened out, then Alfred stood and headed straight for the front door. He would have to leave it unlocked as he left, but he didn’t care. The Drakes deserved a break in. 

Alfred climbed down the steps, careful not to jostle Tim anymore than he needed to, then laid him across the back seat. Tim stirred, curling up in his blanket for warmth, but otherwise didn’t wake. 

Alfred went around to the drivers side, wasting no time before he put the car in drive and pulled out slowly. He hadn’t wanted to try to force a seatbelt on the lad with how he was laying so Alfred had to drive slowly and carefully, taking the short drive back in three or four minutes. Longer than he would have liked with a sick child in the backseat, but still as fast as he could reasonably go. 

He pulled up to the front door of Wayne manor, then shut off the car and went around to gather his partner. He could hear the front door open behind him while three sets of footsteps shuffled to get a view of what he had. He knew they would be dying of curiosity at where he had gone. But there were more important things to deal with. 

Alfred turned around to three confused and worried faces, but ignored them all as he climbed the steps and they made way for him. 

“Alfred, what—” Master Bruce started, but Alfred cut him off, his tone leaving no room for arguments or questions. 

“Master Jason, please start a pot of tea,” the lad in question ran to the kitchen to do as he was told as Alfred kept talking. “Master Dick, please assist me in Master Tim’s room.” 

Dick nodded, keeping a few steps ahead of Alfred, his shoulders in resolve usually reserved for intense battles. 

“And Master Bruce.” Alfred paused, turning back to his eldest charge who looked broken with confusion and worry. “Call Dr. Tompkins and do whatever you need to do to get her here as soon as possible. Then Child Protective services. Ask for a woman named Sharon, already assigned to Timothy Drake’s case. Ask her to come as soon as she’s able.”

Master Bruce froze, his features stunned as he took in all the implications of Alfred’s words. 

“Now, sir,” Alfred added as he turned back toward the stairs, taking Tim up to his room. 

He could hear Bruce’s footsteps as he ran to his study to make the calls. 

Both ladies would be here soon. Tim would be ok. They’d make sure they never needed to let him go back to that house again. He was home now. And he’d be ok. 

Chapter Text

Bruce hung up the phone, listening to the click echo around his study. The room felt empty. Hollow in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It was Sunday morning, nearing afternoon now. Doc Thompkins wasn’t due to start her shift for several more hours and hadn’t been happy when Bruce’s call woke her. But he’d promised her he’d pay any bill she deemed necessary for this house call and she’d agreed to come. He didn’t care what she ended up charging him, Tim needed care now and she was the only one he trusted. 

Tim. Tim who was here, in his house, and sick. His parents no where in sight. 

Alfred hadn’t been gone long enough to have gone to their hotel in the city, no less found the building. Based on the look in the older man’s eyes when he left, he hadn’t known where they were. He was suspicious, but hadn’t known. There was really only one explanation that made sense for that. 

But he had to know for sure. 

Bruce opened his laptop and quickly pulled up the program to view Jason’s camera footage, finding what he was looking for almost immediately. A car pulling up to the Drake’s house, Alfred getting out, then disappearing into a dark zone only to come out the front door fifteen minutes later with Tim in his arms. 

He’d been at his house. But no one else had been there. No one had been there all summer, the place hadn’t appeared lived in and… 

And no one had been there all summer. 

Tim clearly knew how to dodge the cameras as he got in and out, they hadn’t been able to get a clear shot of him getting in the taxi or being on camera at all, Bruce couldn’t pin down a taxi ride, he couldn’t find a hotel they’d been in, he couldn’t even confirm the Drakes were back in the United States because…

Because they weren’t.

They’d left Tim behind. 

And Bruce hadn’t even noticed. 

He needed to fix this. Somehow. He needed to…

He needed to call CPS. 

Sharon. 

Sharon.

Tim already had a file in CPS.

He already had someone assigned to his case. 

What had he been through already to…? 

Bruce froze as several things started slotting into place. 

Tim flinched at loud noises. He hated being touched. Acted like it hurt him. He could walk around completely unnoticed like his life depended on it, silent and invisible. He took care of himself and seemed surprised when other people wanted to help him. He was terrified of messing up and causing anyone to be upset with him. He always seemed to know when someone came up behind him, his situational awareness was as good as Bruce’s even with all his years of training. And Tim was the single most publicly well behaved child Bruce had ever seen. 

He was abused. Tim was abused.

And they’d missed it. He had missed it. Bruce had explained away every one of the signs for months.  

Jack just dropped him at their house with no overnight bag. Like he’d been in too much of a rush to plan. Or just hadn’t cared. They’d never called the boy. Never once tried to get in touch with him while they were gone. 

Then they’d showed up again like nothing happened.

Tim never mentioned it. Like he was used to it. Like being abandoned for months at a time was normal. 

Bruce sat back in his chair and pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes. 

He’d missed it. He’d missed everything. 

And Tim had suffered for it. 

Two months alone in that house. The boy struggled to eat or drink on any kind of healthy schedule if someone wasn’t there to help him do so. His sleep schedule was even worse. It was a wonder he was still alive. As is he was sick. Bruce just didn’t know how bad it was yet. He’d been fine on Friday. But then he’d gone home alone in a storm and they hadn’t been able to find him. There was no telling how long he’d been out in the weather by himself. 

What could possibly have been going through Jack and Janet’s heads to think leaving a seven year old home alone for months was a good idea? 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter why, all that mattered was that they had, and now they’d have to answer for it. 

Bruce took a deep breath and picked up the phone, dialing the number he’d already memorized after the circumstances of the last few years. 

“Child Protective Services, this is Alex, how may I help you?”

“Hi Alex,” Bruce swallowed, remembering too late that he should probably be using his Brucie Wayne persona with the random person picking up the call. But he didn’t pretend to be anything he wasn’t with his kids’ case workers and Alex wouldn’t know who he was, so it probably didn’t matter. “I’m looking for Sharon, I’m afraid I don’t have a last name. She should be assigned to Timothy Drake’s case.”

“No problem,” Alex hummed and Bruce could hear the clicking of their keyboard on the other end. “Please hold while I transfer you.”

Bruce barely got out a thank you before the hold music started. He drummed his fingers on his desk, hoping Sharon would be in today despite the weekend. 

He held his breath as the phone began ringing.

“Sharon Ramirez.”

Bruce immediately let out the breath and forced himself to breathe normally again as he sat up straighter. 

“Ms. Ramirez,” he began, stalling as he searched for the words to explain his not-son had been left alone and he needed help ensuring it would never happen again. “This is Bruce Wayne, I understand you are the case worker assigned to my neighbor, Timothy Drake?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Sharon’s voice came back, lower and clipped, but just enough any normal person probably wouldn’t pick up on the change. 

“I am. What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce signed, taking a deep breath. Tim was here. He wasn’t in India, he never had been, he was here and Bruce was still trying to process that, how could he tell this woman…?

“Do you know where Tim has been the last few months?”

The line went quiet again and for much longer this time. Bruce couldn’t blame her. 

“I’m afraid I cannot share details with you, Mr. Wayne, but Tim is with his parents.”

“No he’s not.” Bruce didn’t know what he was doing, it just came out. Worse still, his voice was so low it was close to his Batman growl. He could only hope Sharon understood what and who he was really angry with. But when she responded, her voice matched his in pitch.

“ What? ”

“He’s not in India,” Bruce continued, forcing his voice to be as calm as he could manage. “We only just found out. We just…”

He paused, running a hand over his face. 

“Actually, it might be easier to explain if you came to see for yourself. If you’re able to.”

The line went quiet for the third time, but only for a few moments. Then Sharon responded, curt and professional but with a hint of darkness Bruce would hate to be on the receiving end of.

“I’m on my way. Thank you for your call, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce nodded, mumbling some sort of response before the call disconnected and he hung up the receiver. 

He didn’t have time to think about everything. Doc Thompkins and Sharon Ramirez, Tim’s case agent, were both on their way. And Bruce needed to be there for his—for Tim.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick grabbed a handful of clean washcloths from the hall linen cabinet then hurried to open the door to Tim’s room before Alfred got there with the unconscious baby bird. The room had barely changed since Tim left. Alfred had tidied up, vacuumed and dusted, but overall, everything was still where he left it. And the bed was made. 

Dick rushed in, dodging passed Alfred so he could get to the bed first and pull back the covers with just enough time for Alfred to set the baby bird down on the bed. Alfred shuffled him around gently, untangling him from the blanket he was wrapped in. Dick had to stop himself from staring for a moment. Tim was in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt. He wasn’t even wearing socks.

That… Would not do. 

Dick bolted out of the room and down the hall, bursting into his own room to find his favorite fuzzy Superman hoodie, then back to Tim’s room to hold it out to Alfred. 

The older gentleman hummed approvingly and took the offered item, carefully shifting Tim around to get it on him while Dick rummaged through the baby bird’s dresser to find the warmest pair of socks he could. Those, too, he handed to Alfred who slid them onto Tim’s feet, somehow without making the baby bird stir at all. Alfred always seemed to have a way of taking care of them in their sleep and none of them could ever figure out how, but Dick wasn’t going to complain. Not today. 

Alfred glanced back up at Dick and pointed at the washcloths he’d set down on the bed, to which Dick immediately understood. He hurried to Tim’s attached bathroom and turned on the facet, waiting for the water to get warm. Then he grabbed a clean washbowl and filled it, taking the warm water back out to Alfred who already had the baby bird tucked into his covers so just his head was peaking out. 

Dick held out the bowl to him when he was ready and Alfred took it with a grateful nod. Then he set the bowl down on the side table by Tim’s bed and wet a washcloth to lay across the baby bird’s forehead. 

Dick bit his lip, standing at the end of the bed and waiting for his next orders. But that was it. There wasn’t much else to do for him until Doc Thompkins got here or he woke up. 

He’d be ok though. He had to be. 

Dick had no idea how they’d missed him Friday night. How he’d gotten away like that or where he had been. Or where his parents were. Something was definitely going on if CPS was already involved, but Dick didn’t know what. 

All he knew was whoever it was who was responsible better never come near his Baby Bird again. 

Chapter Text

Jason scowled at the hot water pot, just waiting for it to finish boiling. He could swear it had never taken this long before. It could probably tell he was in a hurry. Even if he probably didn’t need to be rushed. Knowing Alfred, Tim wouldn’t wake up until he did so naturally or someone intentionally woke him. Alfred wouldn’t wake him while he put him to bed. And Tim couldn’t drink tea until he woke up so Jason probably didn’t need to be in a hurry. 

Still though. He wanted it to be ready as soon as possible. He didn’t like being this far away from his replacement when the kid was being an idiot again. Who exactly thought it was a good idea to go home in the rain? He probably didn’t even change his clothes once he got home or did something else equally as idiotic because his parents never taught him how to take care of himself. The kid was seven. He needed adult supervision or he would end up getting himself killed. 

Though the fact his parents apparently thought it was fine to let the kid run around by himself to his friends’ house and come home in a rainstorm really did start to explain where Tim inherited his idiocy from… 

Hopefully the Doc would be here soon and tell them Tim was ok. Beyond the apparent hole in his brain, anyway. 

The hot water pot turned off with a click and Jason practically jumped at it, pulling it off the electric pad it sat on and bringing it over to the teapot he already had waiting with Alfred’s special sickness tea blend sitting in the wire basket inside. He poured the water in carefully, then set the electric hot water pot back on the counter while he waited. It would take nearly ten minutes before the tea was done steeping and Jason didn’t want to wait. But he didn’t have much of a choice. He might as well do something useful though. 

He grabbed a trey and set the teapot on it, then added a teacup and saucer. He still had 7 minutes left to wait though so started rummaging through the refrigerator. Where he found a container of leftover tomato soup Alfred had made a few days ago and a pitcher of apple juice. Soup was good for sick people and Tim loved the apple juice last time he was sick, it was perfect. He grabbed both and poured some soup in a bowl to heat up while he grabbed a glass, then set both the now microwaved soup and cup of apple juice on the tray with the tea. And he still had three minutes left to wait. 

Jason groaned, tapping his foot impatiently while he stared at the teapot. And kept staring out of boredom and spite for the next three minutes. 

He nearly cheered when the timer went off. He barely took the time to turn it off before grabbing the whole trey and heading toward Tim’s room. He’d barely hit the stairs before he heard voices though. Two were obviously Bruce and Alfred, but there was also a woman he couldn’t quite hear. He had to get closer before he recognized her: Doc Thompkins. Jason didn’t even want to know how much Bruce had to pay to get her here that fast, but he wasn’t complaining. As long as Tim got help. 

“—prescribed him antibiotics for the walking pneumonia, make sure you follow the dosage and don’t let him stop taking them even when he stops showing symptoms. I don’t have it with me so you’ll have to send someone to pick it up in a couple hours. Let him rest, he should make a full recovery.”

The Doc looked up as Jason got almost close enough to pass them with his trey. She paused, giving him and his cargo a once over before nodding approvingly and stepping out of the way for him. 

“Good, Jason. Keep fluids and good food in him, especially right now.” 

“Yes, Doc!” Jason grinned, shuffling passed all three adults while Doc Thompkins turned back to Bruce and Alfred. She went on to say something else about Tim’s condition, how he wasn’t too dehydrated yet but would be if they hadn’t caught it so early, something about his shivering and coughs, but Jason tuned them out as he disappeared inside Tim’s bedroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim wrapped his favorite blanket tighter around his shoulders and coughed, but only three times. Alfred had woken him up and immediately offered him a glass of water and that helped a lot. Then a doctor lady came in with a stethoscope but Alfred promised him she was ok. Alfred promised him no one would be taking him away. 

And the doctor lady hadn’t even tried. 

She’d just examined him, told him he’d be ok and to get some rest, and then left the room with Bruce and Alfred. Dick helped him get the hoodie he was wearing back on, though he couldn’t remember where it had come from. It was too big for him, he was practically drowning in it, but it was so comfortable and warm and it smelled like Dick, Tim never wanted to take it off. 

The door opened again as Jason shuffled in, his face immediately lighting up when their eyes met, though Tim wasn’t sure why. Jason must have seen something that made him happy, but Tim couldn’t figure out what. There wasn’t much in this room besides him and Dick.

“Replacement! You’re awake!” Jason grinned as he came over, bringing a tray with him. A tray with a teapot on it which Tim couldn’t take his eyes away from. It smelled amazing. 

Jason set the whole tray down on Tim’s side table, then climbed up onto the bed to sit on the other side of him. Dick on one side, Jason on the other, just like they did when they sat on rooftop edges. Tim smiled, settling in. 

“And you’re an idiot, Timmy!” 

Tim froze, eyes blown wide as he spun back toward Jason who suddenly looked exasperated. But also… Relieved. So relieved. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed! What am I going to do with you?!” Jason threw his hands up and Tim shifted back, right into Dick who wrapped his arms around him and held him close. And warm. He was so warm. Tim couldn’t help a small smile. 

Jason paused, watching him, then sighed, dropping his hands and lowering his voice to something Tim didn’t recognize. He wasn’t angry, he was… Happy? Fond, maybe? 

“What am I going to do without you, Replacement?”

Tim didn’t have an answer. Jason would be fine without him, right? 

He shifted, turning to look up at Dick who shrugged. 

“You should see him when you’re not here,” Dick grinned, laughing as Jason scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “He’s a wreck. So don’t go running off and doing anything stupid again, ok? It might be more than your mother hen can handle.”

“Hey!” 

Something flew over Tim’s head and hit Dick between the eyes, but Dick just laughed. And it felt so funny against Tim’s back, he almost laughed too. 

“I am not a mother hen!” Jason hissed and Tim turned back to him only to see a teacup held in front of his face. 

It smelled amazing. 

He had to unwrap enough to take it, and Dick had to let him, but it was just as good as it smelled. 

“It’s not as good as Alfred’s,” Jason shrugged, shuffling where he sat. “But he can make you some more later.”

Tim couldn’t taste the difference. It was the best thing he’d had in months. 

He drank the whole thing only for Jason to fill his cup again and Tim drank that one too. Then a bowl of soup and half a glass of apple juice, but it was cold. He took another sip of his third cup of tea, then Jason took the cup back without him even asking and Tim wrapped back up in his blanket. And Dick’s arms. 

He was so cozy. And finally warm. 

He closed his eyes as Jason reached for a book and settled in beside him as he started to read aloud. 

Mom and Dad would be so mad he failed to keep the secret. But for once, he wasn’t sure if he cared. At least for now, he was cozy and warm. 

Chapter Text

Bruce paused, the huge oak door halfway closed in front of him. He’d just thanked Dr. Thompkins and showed her out, promising again to pay whatever she deemed necessary. He was about to go back upstairs to see how Tim was doing, but stopped as he noticed another car pull past the gates at the end of the drive. 

Dr. Thompkins noticed it too and paused, her car door already open as she waited for the other vehicle to pull up and park right behind hers. 

Bruce watched as the doctor approached the other car and introduced herself to the dark haired woman who got out, though Bruce couldn’t hear what they were saying. He watched them shake hands and exchange words, Dr. Thompkins even pointing back to the house once, up toward the second floor where Tim was in bed. Then the woman Bruce could only assume was Ms. Ramirez asked a question and Dr. Thompkins wrote something out on her clipboard and handed it over to the woman. Some sort of doctor’s note, Bruce had no doubt. Evidence for the case against the Drakes. 

Bruce let out a slow breath, still trying to come to terms with all the implications and ramifications of the last hour, then watched as the two women shook hands again and Dr. Thompkins got in her car while Ms. Ramirez started up the steps toward him. 

This was it. 

“Ms. Ramirez, I assume?” Bruce opened the door completely and held out his hand to shake, which the woman took with a professional smile. 

“Please, just Sharon, Mr. Wayne.” 

Bruce smiled warmly and nodded, stepping aside so she could come in. “Only if you’ll call me Bruce.”

Sharon paused and Bruce could almost see her reevaluating. He couldn’t blame her if her last interactions in this neighborhood had been with the Drakes while investigating them. Jack and Janet were nice enough to those they considered their peers, but Bruce still bristled any time he had the displeasure of being within earshot when they addressed anyone they deemed beneath them. He could only imagine how much worse they had been to Sharon while she investigated their treatment of their son. 

It took a few more moments, but then Sharon nodded, some of the tension draining from her shoulders. 

“Deal,” she smiled, genuine, not professional this time. Bruce considered that a win. 

“I suppose we better get right to it then,” Bruce sighed, closing the door behind them as he started toward the stairs, Sharon only a step behind him. “We were under the impression Tim was in India with his parents until he showed up Friday afternoon and asked to spend the day with us. Obviously we said yes, Tim stayed with us for a few months over the winter and spring and we loved having him, the whole family has missed him immensely since he left for India. We were overjoyed when he told us they’d gotten back.”

Bruce glanced back at Sharon who nodded intently. 

“Yes, they informed me they left him with you the last time they went out of town. I’m glad to hear he was well received.”

Bruce smiled, leading Sharon up the stairs. “Very much. He’s practically a part of the family now.”

Sharon smiled at that too, but didn’t say anything so Bruce continued. 

“Anyway, he stayed late enough we offered to let him sleep here, and we thought he’d taken us up on it until we discovered his bed empty around 3 in the morning. That was the night of the storm so we were very concerned. We searched for him until Jason, my youngest, found footage on the security cameras of a taxi pulling up. He had told us he and his parents were staying at a hotel for a few days so we assumed he was headed back there. We tried his house just in case but couldn’t find anything, called around to hotels too to see if we could get in touch with his parents or confirm he’d gotten back safely, but ultimately came up empty.”

Bruce sighed as he said it, realizing how this must look for them having not called the cops. He couldn’t admit the truth about why he hadn’t. But he didn’t want to lie to Sharon as much as possible. Hopefully she understood what calling the police in this city could result in. 

“We were still trying to get a hold of the hotel he was staying at or get through to his parents somehow when Alfred—our butler but he’s more like family—got a call from him. You’ll have to ask him for the details but apparently Tim called him asking for help to make tea and Alfred realized something was wrong. He found him holed up in Drake Manor, alone and sick.”

Bruce stopped a few feet from Tim’s door and turned toward his guest, who pursed her lips but didn’t look surprised. Really, that was all he needed to know.

“Alfred brought him home, then I called you and  Dr. Thompkins immediately. Dr. Thompkins diagnosed him with walking pneumonia.”

Sharon nodded again, pulling out a notebook and scribbling some quick notes. 

“Yes, I met Dr. Thompkins on the way in. She told me as much. Do you know how he got it?”

Bruce sighed, running a hand over his face. “We think he called the taxi as a decoy. Tim’s very smart, you know.” He smiled proudly, laughing to himself about all the ways Tim had proved that. Then grew serious again. “Extremely concerning though, that Tim was trying to throw us off his trail. We think he called the taxi as a decoy and walked home in the storm. Drake Manor is quite close but it is through the woods and we think he may have gotten lost on his way, though made it eventually. We don’t know how long he was out in the storm for. And—” Bruce sighed again, scratching the back of his neck. “He’s said some concerning things. About his parents expecting him to keep this secret—that he’s not in India, we think—and about you.”

Sharon raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t interrupt.

“You and CPS as a whole. We think his parents have lied to him about what you’re doing.”

“Unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence,” Sharon pursed her lips but nodded. “I’d like to see him anyway. I’ll be careful.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was barely awake but he couldn’t fall asleep. He’d never had someone read to him while he drifted off before. But Olivia was falling in love with Cesario even though Cesario was actually Viola and Viola liked Duke Orsino but he didn’t know she was Viola and he was actually in love with Olivia and… And this was what people meant when they said love triangle, wasn’t it? Tim couldn’t just fall asleep, he had to find out what happened. 

Jason trailed off and Dick’s breathing changed ever so slightly. Tim never would have noticed if he wasn’t cuddled into Dick’s chest, but as it was, he noticed. 

He could feel someone else in the room with them now. The way the carpet crunched under someone’s feet even though both Dick and Jason were on the bed with him. The way the voices out in the hall had gotten closer and then stopped. The way light behind his eyelids changed to a slightly different color as if a door opened somewhere. 

Tim didn’t want to move, he was comfortable and warm, but he couldn’t just let this go either. 

He shifted, opening his eyes as he turned toward the door, then froze. Bruce was standing there with Sharon.  

She was going to take him away. 

She was going to send him to the foster system and make sure he never saw his parents again and—

Dick pulled him closer, his arms tight enough around Tim’s shoulders and chest to remind him to breathe. Jason scooted closer too while he simultaneously moved toward the foot of the bed. Where he was halfway between Tim and the adults in the room. And he was staring them down. Or at least it looked like he was even though Tim couldn’t really see his face from the back. But his shoulders were stiff and he didn’t move his head or flinch. Even Bruce looked surprised. 

“Tim…” Sharon started slowly, taking a small step closer. 

Tim tensed and Jason hissed. He actually hissed. Tim might have laughed if he hadn’t been so scared. 

Sharon stopped, not coming any closer and Tim relaxed slightly. 

“Tim, I’m here to do what’s best for you, I’m not trying to hurt you or your parents. I just need to know what happened, ok?”

Dick gave him a gentle squeeze but Tim didn’t answer. 

“Tim, can you tell me where your parents are right now?”

He didn’t answer, but neither did anyone else. They were all just waiting for him to say something. 

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell Sharon they were at a hotel, she’d want to know which one and it was pretty obvious she knew more than she should already. And Tim didn’t know what exactly it was she knew so he couldn’t effectively lie to her without risking her knowing he was lying to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t tell her the truth. Mom and Dad would kill him. They’d made it so clear that he couldn’t tell anyone he was still home but especially Sharon or she’d take him away and—

“Master Tim.”

Tim froze in his spiral, looking up to see Alfred standing beside Sharon. Tim had no idea when he’d gotten there or where he’d been, but he was here now. 

“I made you a promise, sir.” Alfred went on, as proper as ever, but there was something almost… Defiant in his tone. “I promised you you would not be leaving this manor, sir.”

Sharon frowned and started to say something, but Alfred cut her off. 

“I will not break that promise, sir. You are safe here and this is the best place for you.” Alfred paused to look at Sharon while he emphasized that, holding eye contact while he continued. “We will do whatever it takes to keep you here, as long as that is what you want and what is best for you.”

Tim wasn’t sure what Alfred meant by “whatever it takes”. Money or…downstairs business? …or both? 

Whatever it was, Sharon seemed to cave and said something softly that Tim couldn’t quite catch, but whatever it was satisfied Alfred. At least for now.

“Now please be truthful, Master Tim. We will keep you safe. I promise.”

Tim could feel Dick squeeze him again in agreement while Jason turned toward him and nodded. Bruce, too, took a step forward and nodded, his entire being screaming Batman so strongly Tim didn’t doubt he meant it. 

Tim glanced between all four, then shrank back into Dick’s arms as he coughed. He’d barely gotten two coughs in before Jason held out a glass of water and Dick offered a handkerchief. He took both gladly and sunk back into Dick’s arms.

He could do this, right? Even if Sharon tried to take him, Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Alfred wouldn’t let her. His parents would be furious but maybe… Maybe they’d help with that too. Maybe Bruce would pay them enough they’d stop worrying about the problems he made and forget about him. Maybe it’d be ok. 

“Tim…?” Sharon spoke up again after several moments of silence. “Can you tell me where your parents are, kiddo?”

Tim took a deep breath, glancing between the family around him once more before answering. “India.” He coughed again, but only three times this time before he got control of his voice again. 

“And where have you been staying?” Sharon asked, her voice soft but her expression worried. Tim wasn’t sure if she was angry or not. 

“Home,” Tim finally answered, then figured he should be more specific. “Drake Manor.”

Alfred nodded approvingly and Tim smiled. Details were good then. 

“Have you been there the whole time?”

Tim swallowed, his throat dry again, and took another sip of water. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He didn’t need to speak if it was a yes or no question, right? Sharon had never gotten mad at him for just nodding before, she wasn’t like Mom and Dad like that. So Tim nodded his head instead of answering. 

Sharon didn’t look like she minded. 

“Last question, kiddo.” 

Tim nodded his understanding and Dick squeezed him once more, assuring him they were still there. Tim nearly melted. He didn’t know what he was feeling but… It was nice. It was like nothing could hurt him.

“Did anyone know you were there? Or was anyone taking care of you?”

Tim frowned, it was technically two questions, but one answer so maybe that still counted. 

He shook his head no and Sharon didn’t look happy. But she looked down at her notes instead of at him. So maybe it wasn’t him she was angry at? She scribbled something down and then looked back up at him, her face softer now. She still didn’t look happy but it wasn’t quite angry either. And she wasn’t yelling at him. 

“Alright, Tim. Thank you. I’m going to go talk to Bruce and Alfred, alright? You get some rest.”

Tim nodded, watching as she walked back out the door, Bruce and Alfred right behind her while Alfred closed the door behind them. Tim could hear them moving further down the hall, likely toward a sitting room or maybe the kitchen so Alfred could serve tea. But out of the hall. 

“Hey,” Dick squeezed him again, poking his head over Tim’s far enough that Tim could look up and see his face. “Proud of you, Baby Bird.”

Dick smiled and Tim felt himself sinking deeper into the mattress and Dick’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Jason added. “And no one’s taking you anywhere.” There was something dark in Jason’s tone, like there was something else to his words, but Tim wasn’t sure what. “This is where you belong, Replacement.”

And there was that feeling again. Like nothing could hurt him. 

Like he was safe.

Chapter Text

“Please, have a seat.” Bruce motioned to the couch in the family’s favorite sitting room while he took his usual chair. He raised an eyebrow at the refreshments already set out on the coffee table, but knowing Alfred, he really shouldn’t be surprised. There was a stack of papers on the side table by his chair as well. The top one he could see was a printed copy of his foster license. He really shouldn’t be surprised by Alfred after all these years. 

“Thank you,” Sharon nodded politely as she sat down, crossing her legs and pulling out a clip board with another stack of papers to set on her lap. 

Alfred pulled up a chair then too, situating himself across the coffee table so as not to crowd Sharon. 

And Bruce had to take a second to recalibrate. Alfred was actually sitting down with them. This was the most relaxed and unprofessional Bruce had ever seen the man. 

But then… Alfred did seem to have a soft spot for Tim. Bruce had almost caught him smiling at the boy more than once. Not that Alfred never smiled but it was rare. And he still somehow managed to be professional about it. Against all odds, Tim had managed to break down some of Alfred’s walls. At least a little bit. 

Bruce took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. 

“Sharon, I’d like to start by apologizing for the… Intensity of the situation.” 

Bit of an understatement after Alfred had nearly threatened the women currently sitting in front of them, but Bruce couldn’t completely blame him. Tim was scared. Tim needed a little intensity on his behalf. 

“We want to cooperate as much as possible,” Bruce went on, watching Sharon without making it look like he was watching her. “But more than that we want to do what’s best for Tim. I sincerely hope we can manage both together.”

Sharon paused just long enough to look up at Bruce’s face, relaxing slightly when she saw the genuine sincerity he was trying to make clear. 

“I hope so too.” Sharon sighed, shuffling through some papers before continuing. “It certainly seems like this is the best place for Tim to be, but it is rarely a good idea for me to promise a child they can stay somewhere before I know for sure. There are legalities we have to go over, paperwork and licenses, formalities to make sure this house is fit for Tim and—”

Sharon paused as Bruce held out his foster license. She took it slowly, looking it over carefully as her expression softened just a little bit more.

“I consider Dick and Jason my sons,” Bruce started, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t imagine life without them, and this is their home. But neither of them are legally mine. I’ve been fostering Dick for five years now, Jason for a year and a half. I assure you, all of that was done legally, I wouldn’t risk my sons’ safety to cut corners. But it may speed up the process for Tim.”

Bruce watched as Sharon took the paper from him slowly, her eyes tracking down the page as the last bits of tension fell from her shoulders. Then she laughed, quiet and light, but genuine and relieved. 

“Yes, Bruce,” she started, making a few notes on her paperwork. “This will certainly speed up the process.” 

“Great!” Bruce grinned, a small, usually undetectable piece of his Brucie persona coming to the surface. The piece of himself he’d built the persona around. “I’m sure there are several things we will need to address, tour of the house, make sure it’s safe for the boy, paperwork to be filled out, all that. We’ll be happy to cooperate with whatever you need.” 

“Of course,” Sharon nodded as she began gathering all the paperwork that would need to be filled out and handed the stack to Bruce. There was a lot to do yet before Sharon could sign off on Tim’s continued stay, but nothing they couldn’t do in the next few hours. 

Bruce was confident Tim would be legally placed in their custody by the end of the day. Even if he hated the circumstances and how much it took for him to see the truth, he couldn’t be happier. Tim was here, and he was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Proud of you, Baby Bird.” Dick smiled, holding Tim tight as the sick little baby bird closed his eyes again and snuggled into Dick’s chest. And Dick absolutely melted. 

“Yeah, and no one’s taking you anywhere.” Jason added from somewhere on his left. “This is where you belong, Replacement.”

Dick couldn’t agree more. He was never letting his baby bird go ever again. He’d die for this kid if that’s what it took. Tim was safe here. Dick squeezed him tight and felt Tim relax even more, which had Dick melting all over again. 

He smiled and leaned back against the headboard, getting comfortable before what would inevitably be a long wait. Tim looked about to fall asleep and Dick wasn’t about to let go of him before he woke up, so he might as well make the most of it. Not that it took much, the baby bird was snuggly, that was the best gift Dick could ask for. Though next time he could do without Tim having to be sick for it… 

Still though. He was going to enjoy it and make sure Tim was as comfortable and safe as he could possibly be. 

Jason seemed to have the same idea as he grabbed the book he’d been reading and settled near the end of the bed—between Tim and the door—before opening the book and continuing to quietly read. 

It didn’t take long before Tim’s breathing evened out, for which Dick was glad. He ran his fingers through the baby bird’s hair and leaned his head back against the headboard, listening to Jason read about some sort of fight between Cesario and Sir Andrew. Or was it Sebastian and Sir Andrew? He hadn’t really been paying attention, but the background noise was calming. And nice to know Jason was keeping watch. 

Until the light in the room changed behind Dick’s eyelids and Jason trailed off. The door had been opened. Someone else was in the room. 

But they were impossibly silent, which meant either Bruce or Alfred. Or both. And Jason was quiet now but not panicked, so everything was still safe. 

Dick didn’t see a point in shifting and risking waking Tim, so he didn’t. Just kept running his fingers through his hair. 

“Sharon’s gone,” Bruce whispered, just loud enough for them to hear. “We got all the paperwork done, she approved Tim staying with us for the time being and headed back to the office to do what she needs to set that in stone. Tim’s not going anywhere.”

Dick smiled, curling around the baby bird—his new official foster brother—just a little bit more. No one was taking him anywhere. 

He could hear Jason shifting at the end of the bed, probably turning to look back at Tim, which was confirmed a second later when Dick heard his voice, whispered but clearly directed at them. 

“Good.” 

There was a finality and darkness to that single word that Dick had almost never heard from Jason. The kind of tone that made him fear for anyone on the receiving end of Jason’s wrath. Little Wing was usually explosive, expressive and dramatic like the theater kid he was. Dick didn’t like it when he was quiet and cold. Calculating in a way that spoke volumes of the mountains he would burn. 

If Dick was being honest, it was terrifying in a way few other things were. 

“Who leaves a seven-year-old home alone for—”

“—eight.”

Dick barely stopped himself from jumping and startling Tim, who was apparently still awake. He opened his eyes and looked down at his bundle who hadn’t moved an inch, still snuggled and breathing deeply like he was asleep. No wonder he drove Jason crazy those few months, relaxed was indistinguishable from asleep, even with Dick holding him with his finger quite literally on the baby bird’s pulse.

“Huh?” Dick whispered, not quite convinced it was actually Tim who had spoken. 

“Eight,” he repeated, Dick confirming it was him when he saw Tim’s lips move with the words. “I’m eight.”

Nobody responded for a few seconds, all three of them processing the new information. Dick had been almost certain Tim was seven…

“When did you turn eight?” Dick whispered, not quite convinced he even wanted to know the answer. 

Tim shrugged, then coughed, then poked out his hand from the tangle of limbs to feel around for his water—which Jason quickly put in his hand. He took a sip and composed himself before reaching to set the water back on the end table which was much too far away. So Jason took it instead. And then Tim curled back up again.

“Tim?” Dick whispered, not convinced the baby bird hadn’t actually fallen asleep this time, but not convinced he hadn’t either. 

“Friday,” Tim mumbled, then tensed as Dick did. 

Dick mumbled a curse under his breath—in French so Tim would be less likely to pick it up if he heard—and forced himself to relax even as Tim shifted to look up. 

“Sorry, Baby Bird…” Dick hurried to calm him, gently running his fingers through his hair. “It’s ok, I’m just surprised is all.”

Surprised and furious… But the baby bird didn’t need to know that. He seemed to accept the answer and closed his eyes again, clearly exhausted. 

Dick waited a few moments before looking up to meet Bruce and Jason’s eyes. 

Friday. 

Tim’s birthday was Friday. Game night. That’s why he’d come. That’s why he’d ventured out of the house that night when he clearly wasn’t supposed to. It had been his birthday. The baby bird didn’t want to spend it alone. And they had no idea. 

Bruce looked horrified. And Jason looked seconds from murder. 

Dick couldn’t agree with them more. 

He turned back to Tim and whispered, keeping his voice light and calm. 

“Aww, you should have told us, Baby Bird! We would have made it so special!” 

They still could. After Tim got better. They’d throw him the best birthday party they could.

But Tim just smiled. 

“You did…” he mumbled, actually close to sleep this time. Dick hoped anyway. “It was the best....”

The best. They hadn’t even known it was his birthday and it was still the best. 

Dick frowned as he watched Tim’s smile grow more loopy as he maybe fell asleep for real. They hadn’t known it was his birthday, didn’t do anything special, and Tim got horribly sick because of it. But he was still sitting here, curled up in blankets and happier than Dick could remember seeing him. 

And that made it so much worse. 

Dick pulled him just a little tighter. He’d never let anyone forget his baby bird’s birthday again.