Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint the exact moment he became, well, Tim.

But, at some point, he realized something wasn’t quite right. His hands hadn’t always been this small, and he was sure he used to be able to walk with much more confidence. As it stood though, he was still unsteady on his feat.

He blinked blearily at the mobile spinning above his head. It was a collection of different animals one of their rich neighbors gifted his parents. One of his only "childish" items. The beady eyes of the tiger in particular appeared to be staring into his soul. Tim refused to look away, lest it win.

He assumed something must have happened to lead him to wake up in the body of his infant self, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. The last thing he remembered from before was doing paperwork at his desk at Wayne Industries. There was nothing unusual that day, nothing at all to nudge him in the right direction.

He had been an adult, and then he wasn’t.

A sound from across the room startled him from his very serious staring match. He cataloged the room through the bars of his crib, trying to locate the source of the noise. There, across the nursery, sat a second crib. Inside it was, supposedly, his twin sister.

‘Marinette,’ as his parents and nanny called her, was a normal thirteen-month-old as far as Tim could tell. She could say a few words, was quick to cry when upset, and was far more empathetic than Tim thought a baby had any business being.

And she was also smart. Not smart in the way Tim was, it was obvious she was mentally a toddler, but she caught on to things faster than normal, and sometimes Tim would find her staring off into the distance with a contemplative look that didn’t belong on her baby cheeked face.

The strangest part of all this was that Tim knew he was an only child. Or at least, he used to be. So, where had this tiny human with features oh-so-similar to his own come from?

Tim continued to watch his sister, even as their nanny woke them up an hour later. She seemed almost… normal, the way she stood holding the bars, whining and demanding her “baba” when she saw the woman. She wouldn’t be getting one, their parents were obstinate in their intent to wean them now that they were a year old.

Her childish demeaner was a stark contrast to how Tim lay silently in his crib as he waited to be lifted out.

Their nanny was a stout woman, with black hair pulled into a low bun and a small smile on her face. She hadn't introduced herself and Tim didn’t recognize her, so he assumed she was one of the many who didn’t stay for long. She spoke quietly as she dressed his sister, before she lay her back down. She ignored her small cries of “out" as she lifted Tim up and went through the same routine, too few hands to dress Tim while keeping Marinette out of trouble.

If Tim had been a normal baby, this would have gone differently. He would have cried while he waited, which would have set off his sister, and it wouldn’t have been fun for anyone. With how rich his parents were, he was surprised there weren’t two nannies. But, from what he’d observed so far, things were the same as they had been the first time. The only outlier was the tiny, almost identical infant and her matching crib.

After the two were dressed, the nanny brought them to the bathroom down the hall.

Tim remembered how Janet had bragged about how quickly he had potty trained during the few parties he attended when he was a toddler. While she talked about it like it was some impressive feat, like he had learned to toilet early because he was ahead of his peers, Tim remembered it differently.

His memories of that time had faded with age, but he remembered it had been hellish. He was always so thirsty and confused. No one really explained things to him, just withheld water and screamed in his face when he made a mess.

Tim frowned as he watched the nanny hold Marinette over the toilet. The actual toilet, not a kid-sized one, because his parents didn’t believe in childish nonsense like that. He wasn’t sure who she was yet, nor was he confident there wasn’t any magic involved, but right now, this girl was just a baby. She was a confused infant, and Tim had the memories of a 27-year-old.

She was his sister, even if she didn’t used to be, and he wasn’t going to let her experience the same childhood he had.

He was going to protect her.

Once they were pottied and dressed, their nanny carried them down to the breakfast table. Tim couldn’t remember the last time he was held. If their legs had been any longer and steadier, he was sure she would have made them walk. Jack was always insistent that he not be babied. But, as it stood, they were still too young. Tim knew how fleeting these moments were. He leaned into the touch.

Tim got his first glance of his parents when they reached the dining room. As the nanny set them in their chairs, he took in their appearance. They both looked young, though somehow just the same as he remembered. Jack still had the ever-present crease between his brows and Janet’s expressions were as sharp as it ever was. The Drakes were never ones known to change.

“Ah, Timothy, Marinette. Good morning,” Janet commented absently after she finished instructing the landscaper on what flowers she wanted in the front garden come spring.

“Morning,” his sister chirped as she chewed her eggs. The words caused a few mashed-up bits to leave her mouth, and Tim leaned away to avoid catching any flying pieces.

“Marinette,” Janet said sharply. Tim jumped along with his sister, suddenly feeling very small. “Chew with your mouth closed or you won’t be given anything to chew at all.”

Marinette curled in on herself and nodded, waiting until their mother looked away before hesitantly placing another bite in her mouth.

The two of them relaxed more and more the longer their parents’ attention was occupied. Tim made sure to shove as much food down his throat while they weren’t looking, but Marinette ate at a much slower pace.

He wanted to yell at her to eat faster, to explain that she wouldn’t get to finish at all if she was too slow. Tim had been through this song and dance; he knew the way mealtimes worked here. He wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t sure she would understand if he did.

So, instead, Tim pocketed his toast. It was almost instinctual, a habit from his childhood he easily fell back into. He would save it, just in case. Besides, toast took a lot longer to mold than regular bread, right? He wished he had access to a computer so he could look that up.

Luckily for his sister, their mother and father left before she was finished. He felt bad that he was relieved to see them go, he hadn’t seen them in years. But, this was different than 27-year-old Red Robin/Tim Drake-Wayne meeting up with his estranged family. Here, he was just little Timothy Drake. Here, he had no power or voice.

Here, he had nowhere to escape to when he got scared.

After breakfast was outside time. No one told him that, he just knew. He’d stuck to the same schedule every day until he started preschool. Something about ‘molding the young mind,’ or some other rich people's excuse to be excessively controlling.

As the nanny left to take their plates to the kitchen, Tim sat waiting on his chair, but Marinette turned to get up at the first sign of boredom. She slid down, dangling her feet as she stretched for the floor. She kicked and kicked, but the chair was built for an adult, and her legs were too short to reach.

Unable to reach the floor, she decided to jump. Given that she was an uncoordinated infant, this, predictably, went wrong. She landed sideways and fell on her butt, hitting her forehead on the lip of the chair.

There was a beat of silence in which Tim slipped from his own chair to reach her, before she burst into tears.

Tim had never used a highchair or booster seat as a child. He’d never had anything made for kids, really. He had been plopped at the table and expected to eat like an adult, even though he could barely see over the edge of his plate. He used to be proud of this fact, thinking he was mature for his age. Now though, he wished there was at least some sort of buckle on their chairs.

Nanny rushed in to see what happened while Tim examined Marinette’s forehead. It was red and would probably bruise, but that was it. No concussion.

Marinette, what with being an actual baby, didn’t get the memo that it wasn’t that serious. Tim sighed, then brushed his sister’s hair out of her face, internally cringing at the snot that stuck to it, and planted a kiss on her forehead. She stopped screaming, staring at him with wide eyes as the tears continued to fall.

“Shh, it’s all better, okay?” he said quietly.

She blinked at him slowly, then nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“All better.”

Tim could walk, if somewhat unstably with how bundled up in his coats and mittens he was, but Marinette couldn’t. Nanny held her hand to keep her steady as they slowly made their way through the garden.

Tim stumbled across the path ahead of them, wide-eyed. Everything looked so… different. Bigger, from this close to the ground. It felt like the world had grown ten sizes overnight, and despite his initial fear at his predicament, he couldn’t help but giggle.

Everything was almost brighter, in a way.

“Having fun there, Timothy?” their nanny called, smiling. Tim gave her a grin, picking up a nearby leaf and examining it closely. There were seven points, and it was red, so the tree it came from was deciduous. Northern red oak, if Tim had to guess. A common tree in New Jersey.

Confidently, Tim strode over to his sister and handed her his prize. She took it with a look of reverence, then immediately stuffed it in her mouth.

“Oh dear, Marinette! That’s not food,” the nanny cried, crouching down and pinching the girl’s cheeks between her hand. “Spit it out.”

Sadly, Marinette did as she was told. Nanny took the slobbery leaf, curling her lip in disgust, and tossed it on the path. “Honestly,” she complained, “Just because it can fit in your mouth doesn’t mean it belongs there.”

Marinette plopped down on the path to stare at the leaf despondently, but didn’t reach for it again. Nanny grumbled about the girl dirtying her pants, but crouched with her to see what she was looking at, Tim joining them.

There, slowly creeping out of the grass was a garden snail. The siblings watched as it reached the soggy leaf and began to eat it.

“That’s a snail,” nanny explained. “Can you say snail?”

Tim frowned. He was getting sick of this baby talk.

“’Nail,” Marinette obliged, not tearing her eyes away from the creature.

“That’s right! Snail,” she praised, as if she had just gotten the last Fortune 500 question correct, rather than repeat a simple word. “Can you say snail, Timothy? Snaaail.”

Tim glared. He was not buying into this, it would only encourage her further.

She sighed at him. “Alright, let’s say goodbye to the snail now, we need to finish our walk.”

Marinette chirped out a, “Bye bye,” with Tim begrudgingly waving along.

They only made it a few feet before her attention was drawn to something else. She gasped, pointing to a blur behind one of the hedges in front of them. “Hi!” She waved.

At the sound of her voice, a small black cat poked its head out. It blinked its bright green eyes owlishly, before trotting over and rubbing its back on the tiny girl.

Nanny was quick to shoo the cat away, yelling about “bad luck” and “dirty vermin.” Both the cat and Marinette were upset at being separated, and the animal continued to lurk around the garden, watching, despite the nanny’s best attempts to get it to scram.

The rest of their walk continued much the same. They would make it a few feet before some insect or animal would take interest in Marinette (or vice versa) and they’d stop to watch it while nanny tried to keep it from touching them. There was even one instance when a swarm of butterflies landed on and around the group. Nanny hadn’t known what to do then.

It was strange, to say the least, how… enthralled animals seemed to be with her. It was almost like…

Time stopped, his sudden halt causing Marinette to bump into him. She would have fallen back, had nanny not been holding her hand to keep her steady.

Tim pat her head absently in apology, unable to fully tear his thoughts away from his realization.

Marinette was a Meta.

It made so much sense, too much sense for him not to at least consider it. There had to be some reason he woke up in the body of his younger self with a twin who never existed, and this could be why. She was unusually empathetic, and it was already obvious she had some sort of animal-related power. No sane animal would willingly approach a sticky-fingered toddler. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility to consider she might be responsible for the rest of this situation as well.

It was either that or magic, and Tim would rather not subject his brain to thinking about the confusing miasma that was that particular can of worms.

Still, Tim thought as he watched nanny scold his sister for trying to put a handful of dirt in her mouth. Even if she was responsible, it was obvious she didn’t know any more about what happened than Tim did. Less, if the way her face soured at the woman for interrupting her snack. She didn’t seem to have any memories from her before at all. She was just a baby.

She was just a baby, Tim couldn’t blame her for any of this, even if she was involved. He didn’t know if this was all in his mind, or if he really had gone back in time, but whatever it was, he was sure of one thing.

She was a child, and she had meta powers. Jack hated Metas, it was one of the few things he remembered him ranting about from a young age. He thought Metas were less than human, that they were dangerous and didn’t belong with the rest of the population. If he found out...

Jack already thought Marinette was less than because of her gender, but she would have things much worse if he ever discovered this. Tim might not have his fine motor skills down, and sure, he was a bit wobbly when he walked, but Tim was also a Robin, and Robins protected the innocents.

Marinette may not have been his sister originally, but she was now. He would make sure she never grew to resent that.

Chapter Text

They were locked in their room again.

Well, not locked exactly. Their parents hadn’t started doing that yet. They were still babies, unequipped with the motor skills needed to turn a doorknob and too short to reach it anyway, even without the crib bars stopping them from trying. Still, the sentiment was there. For all intents and purposes, Tim and Marinette were locked in their bedroom.

Their nanny—not the nanny from before, she was fired after she suggested the twins accompany Jack and Janet on their weekend outing—was assumedly sick and hadn't organized a replacement.

Tim knew she actually had a hangover, but he wouldn't tell Marinette that. She invited her boyfriend over the night before while the Drakes were gone and left one of her bottles of vodka on Tim’s dresser. He poured it out the (unsurprisingly not baby-locked) window and left the bottle in the kitchen for someone else to find.

But whatever the real reason didn’t matter, because she wasn’t here now and Tim was hungry. And if Tim was hungry, that meant Marinette was hungry too, and she didn’t have the experience of ignoring those particular pains that Tim did.

As if hearing his thoughts, Marinette groaned and sat up in her crib, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Tim glanced at the clock on the wall above the door—an antique from one of his parents’ trips to Russia. It was forty minutes past when they were usually woken up.

His sister didn't immediately start crying. She looked first at Tim, then to the door as if expecting it to open any second. She waited for a minute, but when the door stayed closed her eyes started to tear up. Her breath hitched in a way Tim knew meant she was about to start screaming, and that was when he decided he needed to do something.

Memories of a two, three, five-year-old Tim overlaid his vision of his sister. He didn’t want her to experience what it was like to scream for hours and hours in a house so big, yet so empty of anyone willing to hear.

“Nettie,” he called. She sniffed and looked his way. “Are you hungry?”

Tim hadn't talked much yet, only uttering a few words and never in the presence of an adult. But, if Marinette found it strange that he could suddenly speak so well, she didn't comment. She simply nodded and wiped her eyes.

“Okay, I have some food here for you, so just wait a second. I’ll bring it to you.”

Once he received a second nod of confirmation, he turned to lift the edge of his mattress. Underneath, between the thin child cot and the springs that held it above the floor, were four pieces of toast. The only things he’d been able to successfully hide so far. They had crumbled slightly from him shifting in his sleep, but because Tim always insisted they be extra toasted, each had remained in one piece.

He put one in his mouth to hold and pulled himself to stand on the bars. With all the strength his two-foot-tall body held, which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot, he pulled himself up, using his sweaty, un-socked feet to climb until he was high enough to swing a leg over. He paused to catch his breath, before swinging his other leg over and dropping.

It wasn’t his most graceful escape, but he was proud nonetheless.

He took the piece of toast out of his mouth. He’d done his best not to spit on it, but he was more concerned with surviving the climb out of his crib to pay too much attention. Besides, Marinette wouldn’t mind. She had already shown she was willing to eat anything.

“Here,” he said, offering the piece to his still-trapped sister. She was watching him with wide eyes, her mouth opened slightly.

Tim puffed out his chest. That was probably the most impressive thing she had ever seen.

She took the offered snack with a quiet, “Thank you,” and Tim couldn’t help but coo. She was just too cute. Maybe her memetic effects weren’t exclusive to animals…

Instead of waiting for Marinette to copy him, which would inevitably end in her bruised and crying, Tim decided to find something to occupy her with.

He looked over the items on their shelves and desk. There were rows of classic books, inter-spliced with things one might find in an adult’s office. There was even an actual bed shoved in the corner, confirming Tim’s hypothesis that this was a guest room before it was so lovingly converted to a nursery.

He spotted an Ikea artist figure on one of the lower shelves. That was kind of like a doll? And she couldn’t choke on it. He pushed it through the bars, smiling at how she immediately picked it up and tried to eat it, then studied the crib for a way in.

First, he tried to climb in like he had his own bed, but he couldn’t quite reach the edge to pull himself up. His next idea was to just lower the bars, but the thing was built to be baby-safe. The two pins had to be pulled at the same time, and while he could pull one of the pins just fine, his arms couldn’t reach the other. Sighing, Tim resigned himself to just using the desk chair.

He was breathing heavily by the time he fell into her bed. His tiny baby arms were not built for this many pull-ups. Marinette looked at him concerned while she nibbled her toast, before offering it to him. Tim’s heart melted at the gesture, but he shook his head.

“No thank you, that’s for you.” He smiled. She pushed it closer to his mouth with a frown. The crumbs were getting all over his jammies and he had to repress a shiver of discomfort.

“Eat it,” she demanded.

Tim pretended to take a bite, rolling his eyes when Marinette pulled the toast back with a smug look and resumed her nibbling. He wasn’t about to take her breakfast from her, especially when he only had three other pieces and he didn’t know how long they would be left here.

He couldn’t let her be hungry, she didn’t deserve that.

Slowly, Marinette lowered the toast from her mouth. “Timmy,” she said, brows furrowed. “I gotta pee.”

Well, fuck. Now that he thought about it, he did too. Damn their tiny bladders.

“Oh, umm. Okay, Nettie.” What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t exactly lift her out of the crib, and based on the way she was wiggling, she’d wet herself before she could climb over the bars. He eyed the latch his arms were too short to reach. Maybe…

“Okay, I need your help so listen carefully,” he said, holding her squirming shoulders still until she looked up at his face. “I’m going to pull this pin here, and you’re going to pull the other one at the same time, got it?”

Based on her blank stare, she did not, in fact, get it. Even still, she obediently approached the pin he pointed at.

“Perfect, now pull it up like this,” he instructed as he pulled up the other side. There was a pop, and then a bang as the bars fell down two feet. Carefully, Tim stepped onto the waiting chair and held out his hand for Marinette to take.

He guided her on and off the chair to where the next obstacle lay. The bedroom door loomed over them menacingly, flaunting its height, but it was no match for Tim and his trusty chair.

The doorknob, however, was another story.

He struggled to get a solid grip, and his heart froze at the possibility that it actually was locked, and Tim wouldn’t be able to escape, and he would cry and scream but no one would listen, and—

The door clicked open.

The hallway was eerily silent, suggesting Jack and Janet weren’t home. Their room was three doors down from their parents’ still, not yet moved to the wing across the manor like it had been the first time around, when Jack had gotten tired of his “infernal whining.” Even still, Tim’s footsteps remained inaudible out of reflex. It never ended well when he did something without permission. Not that asking permission ever got him anywhere, anyway.

Really, it was never good when his parents remembered Tim at all, especially that he was a whole person, with his own wants and needs separate from them.

He let Marinette use the toilet first, holding her hand to steady her so she wouldn’t fall in, before he went. They forwent washing their hands, seeing as neither of them could reach the soap dispenser or the sink with no step-stool or nanny to help them, as much as it irked Tim. Then, he turned the bath faucet on to cold and told his sister to drink some.

"Cup?" she asked shyly. Tim shook his head.

"Like this," he said, demonstrating how to drink from the flowing water. Marinette copied him, getting the front of her jammies wet.

"Oh no!" she cried. 

"It's okay, it'll dry." She glared at him, unimpressed. Tim didn't blame her, he hated wet clothes too.

There was a split second where Tim hesitated to go back to their room. He could take Nettie down to the kitchen and make her some real food, or maybe just grab some of the packaged stuff. It was unlikely his parents were already keeping track of that. They had no reason to. Tim was still a baby, he’d never stolen their food before. But, as quickly as the thought was there, he dismissed it. If their parents or nanny came home and saw they weren’t where they were supposed to be, they might start locking the door earlier this time, and Tim was too small to feel confident escaping through the window.

He loved his sister, and he didn’t want her to be hungry, but he couldn’t be locked in again. He couldn’t. Besides, they had his toast. That should last her a while. The whole day, if he was strategic about when he gave it to her.

So he brought her back to the room and set about figuring out how to entertain a baby.

What followed was a game of hide-and-seek, an attempt to play dolls with only an artist figure and a stapler, and an impromptu walking lesson that ended with considerable success.

At 12:30, Tim gave his sister another piece of toast. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the sight of the food, but he ignored it. Marinette was more important.

He tucked her into bed with the hope that she would nap, but Marinette was not impressed with that idea. She chose instead to relish in her newfound freedom by jumping (read: flopping) in and out of her lowered bed.

Tim tried to tell her a story to help her wind down, but he wasn’t as good at making up adventures as Dick had been. He decided instead to tell stories of his Robin days, before he realized they were much too violent. Eventually, he settled with reading one of the books from the shelf: Pride and Prejudice. His heart clenched with each line, even as he tried to separate the story from the person he associated with it. She was out cold by chapter three.

Tim sighed softly as he brushed Marinette’s hair out of her face. His sister. His little sister, because even if they were the same age, she was still little to him.

Tim had never had a little sister before. Cass was older than him, and while Damien was younger, he never really acted like Tim’s sibling. When he’d first arrived, ten years old and angry at the world, Tim had tried to step up. To show him he accepted him as family. Damien, however, hadn’t felt the same way.

He constantly shoved the fact that Tim wasn’t Bruce’s real son in his face. He was merely one of many attempts Bruce had made to fill the hole in his heart his parents had left. He was a placeholder, and now that the blood son was here, he was to be discarded.

Tim never let it show, but his words hurt. They stirred up something deep inside him. Something hot and bubbling and ugly. Tim knew he wasn’t a part of the Wayne family, and he wasn’t a part of the Drake family either. He had tried to shove his way into the heart of a grieving man all while knowing he would never fit.

He was a replacement, he never truly belonged.

Tim gently kissed Marinette’s forehead, damp with toddler sweat. He brushed his finger under her eye where a few freckles dotted her face. She was his sister, and he hadn’t had to force her hand for it to be that way, either. If anything, she was the one intruding on his life.

Maybe it could just be the two of them this time. Maybe she was a sign he shouldn’t meddle in the Bat’s affairs. It’s not like anyone would want him there anyway.

But, even as he considered the thought, he knew he would never follow through. Tim wasn’t a Wayne and he knew he would never be one, but Tim was known for his stubbornness, if nothing else. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand by and watch as Bruce and Dick fought. As Jayson died and Bruce lost himself to his grief.

As the family fell apart again.

No, Tim wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from meddling, but he would do it from a distance. No more playing family with the people who didn’t truly want him. They would be happier without him to pretend for.

Besides, he had a sister now. He had his own family.

Tim pulled his legs up to his chest and closed his eyes.

He didn’t need anyone else.

Tim was startled awake by the nursery door opening, the motion waking Marinette, who sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Good morning, Timothy, Marinette,” their nanny said with a strained smile. Tim checked the clock. It was 3:15.

She walked over to the crib and lifted the two of them out, either not caring or too hungover to notice that they were in the same bed, or that the crib was unlatched.

A man Tim vaguely recognized poked his head into the room. Something about him made a shiver run down Tim’s spine, and he straightened in the nanny’s hold to watch him carefully.

“So, Josie, these the tots?” he asked, tone light and jovial.

“Yes, these are the Drake twins. Aren’t they so well-behaved? I didn’t hear them crying at all when we came in. They waited so patiently,” nanny—Josie, apparently, because no one told Tim anything—praised.

The man nodded sagely, easily joining in. “Mommy and Daddy would be so proud.” Tim narrowed his eyes. He had never once called his mother and father that, it was far too childish.

As Josie carried them to the bathroom, Tim resisted the urge to yell at her. What was wrong with her? They were one. Sure, Tim could care for himself, but Marinette was just a baby! She could hardly walk, what gave her the right to leave her for seven hours?

But Tim held his tongue. Not yet. Not today. His words were a weapon, the only one his tiny body could wield. If he used them carelessly, their effects would dull, and he’d be left with nothing to protect himself with.

That had been his downfall last time. He had talked too much. Shared his theories too often. No one had taken him seriously when it counted. When he’d found evidence of Bruce being lost in the timestream. Even Dick hadn’t listened, had called him crazy and threatened to lock him in Arkham.

Not even the mental hospital, but Arkham. As if- as if Tim was some violent criminal—

No. Tim wouldn’t speak until he was sure he would be heard.

The man didn’t leave Josie’s side, even to wait outside the bathroom. Even if he was her boyfriend like Tim assumed, that was a bit much. He stood in front of his sister as she toileted to block her from view, glaring at the man. He watched Tim with a lopsided smile as if the gesture was cute, rather than fierce like he was intending it to be.

He watched them as they ate their three-o-clock breakfast and joined them on their garden walk. All the while, Tim refused to look away. He didn’t know what it was about him, but everything from the turn of his nose to the slight stubble on his chin made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The man never did anything particularly damning, either. He just talked and flirted with Josie and occasionally tried to chat with the kids. Tim refused to answer, and Marinette must have felt his apprehension because she had been unusually quiet the whole time as well.

When he finally went to leave after dinner (or “lunch,” as Josie called it, with no Mr. and Mrs. Drake there to correct her), he tried to hug them goodbye. Tim honest to god hissed in his face like a feral cat when he got too close. Josie was aghast at his behavior and threatened to put him in time-out.

“It’s fine, Joce. Kid doesn’t want a hug, I get it,” he chuckled and ruffled Tim’s hair. Tim resisted the urge to bite him, if only because it would get him set on the stairs and away from his sister.

While Tim was distracted fixing his hair, the man ruffled Marinette’s hair and pinched her cheek.

“No!” she yelled, jumping back and swiping at him. She was normally charismatic and loved little signs of affection like that, Tim felt a little bad for how his emotions were affecting her.

The man held his hands up in surrender and chuckled, leaning in to kiss Josie.

“Later,” he winked, tipping his hat. They watched out the floor-to-ceiling windows by the door as he climbed into his Porsche and drove off.

Josie had a clear blush on her face as she shooed them up to bed early. She seemed to really like him, but Tim couldn’t shake his fear. The man was familiar in a way that made Tim’s stomach crawl, but he couldn’t remember ever meeting him before.

The only explanation he could come up with was that he knew him from the first time around, but was too young to remember the details. The only thing he was left with was the squirming of his gut and his brain screaming at him to run.

He didn’t know why he didn’t like him, but he would do his best to never find out.

Chapter Text

A week after their second birthday, Jack decided it was time they were introduced to high society. The party they threw wasn’t specifically for them, of course. No, it was supposedly a charity event for childhood cancer research, but it did provide a convenient opportunity.

But Tim, being an infant with no access to a calendar, didn’t know any of this. All he knew was that when nanny woke them up from their nap, she dressed them in much fancier outfits than usual. It was only when she brought them to the visitor’s hall instead of the arts room like she was supposed to that he understood.

There were multiple teams of people bustling about, more than Tim had seen in one place in a long time. Some were stringing up decorations, while others set out platters of no doubt exorbitantly expensive food. One woman looked up from her clipboard to smile and wave at him. He tentatively let go of Josie’s hand to wave back, before hiding his face behind her leg.

“Oh good, they’re all dressed,” Janet smiled and clapped her hands together. “Look at you, you’re both so grown up.”

She crouched down to brush invisible dirt off his suit and tuck a few of Marinette’s stray hairs that hadn’t made it into her pigtails behind her ears.

“Now, if you’re both well-behaved, I’ll have nanny give you chicken nuggets later. How does that sound?”

Marinette jumped up and down with a squeal. “The dinosaur ones?”

“Yes, the dinosaur ones. So be good for your mother, understand?”

Marinette nodded and Janet pat her head somewhat awkwardly before standing up. Tim watched her hum as she walked away. Planning parties always put her in a good mood. He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his own face. When she was like this, he felt like she was really his mom. And, she was, but. She also wasn’t.

But it was on days like these that Tim allowed himself to pretend.

Still, the offered chicken nuggets were tempting, and Tim was never one to turn down food. Especially something so rarely available as this particular deliciously over-processed snack.

Plus, they were dinosaur-shaped. Who didn’t like dinosaur-shaped food?

So Tim was careful to be quiet and keep Marinette occupied, even as the guests poured in and she tried to approach the strangers to talk. Honestly, why was she so extroverted? Wasn’t that supposed to be a learned trait? Tim took pride in how he embodied the practice of stranger danger, she should be imitating him.

Soon, the other children attending the event made their way over to where Tim and Marinette sat. The two couches hadn’t been originally intended as a kid area, but the way they sat in the corner with tables blocking them in created a convenient separation.

There were a few other nannies present and hovering around, but Tim couldn’t see Josie. Tim grumbled and scuffed his dress shoe on the edge of the couch. She’d probably snuck off to be with her stupid boyfriend, thinking the two were sufficiently supervised by osmosis.

Whatever. That just meant Tim would have an easier time sneaking away to get him and Marinette snacks. He looked over to check on his sister. She was sitting on the floor with another girl a few years older. She was showing her her stuffed animal, and Marinette was enraptured.

Tim slipped off the couch and made his way through the crowd. He thought he remembered the refreshments table was near the entrance. Everyone was so tall, he barely reached most of their knees as he weaved his way around. Some burly man almost crushed his foot, but he side-stepped just in time.

He picked out two small cupcakes, one for each hand, and turned to make his way back.

“Timothy? What are you doing over here?”

Tim shoved both cupcakes in his mouth before he swung his head around to stare into the space just below his father’s eyes. His cheeks were puffed out from how much food was in his mouth, but he didn’t care. His father wouldn’t be able to take what he’d already eaten.

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” he exclaimed, a look of disgust visible just above his lip. “You were not given permission to—"

A heavy hand clapped Jack on the back with a jovial laugh.

“Goodness Jack, it’s fine. He’s just being a kid, right?” came the deep voice of none other than Bruce motherfucking Wayne. Just who Tim wanted to avoid.

Tim almost choked at the sight of his young face. So very, very young. He didn’t look anything like how Tim remembered. His face lacked the hard forehead lines Tim had never seen him without, and his shoulders seemed almost lighter in a way. He appeared happier, too, even if Tim looked past his Brucie show.

Just another reason why Tim needed to stay away. He would only make things worse again.

Bruce looked down at Tim, his smile softening to a more real one. More gentle. Tim’s breath hitched. Bruce never looked at him like that before.

“You like the snacks, chum?”

Tim nodded, working to swallow what was in his mouth so as not to embarrass himself further.

“Timothy? Why aren’t you with your nanny? And where is— Oh, Bruce, how good to see you again.” Janet paused her motion to grab Tim’s wrist to lead him away.

“Same to you, Janet. Wonderful party you're hosting.” He nodded his head at her. “Is this the Tim I’ve heard so much about?”

Tim scoffed. He doubted Bruce had heard anything before Jack said his name.

Janet leaned down to pick up Tim and place him on her hip. The gesture was awkward, and he didn’t know where to put his hands. His mother would not appreciate it if he got cake on her new dress.

“Oh, yes this is my little boy, his sister should be running around her somewhere. Hopefully she hasn’t run off from her nanny like Timothy has.” She sent him a pointed glare. “I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble?”

Bruce chuckled. “No, no, not at all. He’s quite the well-mannered young man.”

Tim didn’t know what could have possibly given Bruce that idea. The only thing he’d seen him do was shove some cake in his mouth.

“How old is he? And you mentioned a sister—younger, I take it? I haven’t heard a word of the Drake’s little ones, so this must be a new development, yes?” Bruce commented pleasantly, swirling his champagne. There was an olive on the edge of the glass that Tim desperately wanted to pluck into his mouth.

“He’s one.” Tim was two, he’d been two for a week. “And they’re Twins, actually,” Janet huffed. “We thought it was going to be just him until the day they were born. Marinette was a complete surprise.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s quite unusual. She was like a miracle baby, hmm?”

“Yeah, a real miracle,” Jack huffed. Tim shied away from him. He knew how much worth his father put on gender. He was sure if they had known about his sister earlier, they would have tried to abort her while keeping him.

“Now, about the new Wayne tech you mentioned…”

As soon as it was socially acceptable, the conversation shifted focus to something more important. Janet lowered Tim to the ground with an absent command to find his nanny, and Tim was alone once more.

In the chaos, he has lost track of where he was. There was a wall a few feet from them with two opened double doors, so Tim went through them, overly aware of the eyes glued to his back the whole way. The big bad bat wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was, at least not to someone like Tim.

The doors led to the backyard patio, where a few people meandered about. It was so much quieter out here. Tim hadn't noticed how his shoulders had hiked up and he was squinting until he suddenly didn't need to anymore. The air was cool, despite it being mid-July. Courtesy of Miss Gotham, he supposed.

Despite the weather, his parents had the pool all set-up, underwater lights and all. No one was using it, but no fancy party was complete without something to upkeep and not use.

Tim licked the lingering bits of cake off his fingers while he looked around. He spotted a pair of green eyes in a bush by the door. Curious, he approached.

Inside was the black cat his first nanny had tried so many times to shoo away. He’d always come back, and somewhere along the way, Tim had grown attached. It was nice to know there was someone out there who wouldn't leave him. He was starting to understand Damien’s love for animals now.

He held his hand out for the cat to sniff. He approached slowly at first, before rubbing his head against Tim’s hand. He giggled and took it as permission to pet him.

“Why are you out here all by yourself?” he whispered. “Don’t you have any cat friends you can play with?”

The cat chuffed and shook his head, as if he had understood Tim’s question and found it was stupid.

Just as Tim was beginning to relax, the cat’s hair stood on end, and he hissed at something behind them. Tim spun his head around and came face-to-face with Josie’s boyfriend.

“What’cha doin’ out here, bud?” he asked from where he was crouched far too close for Tim’s liking.

Tim hesitantly pointed at the still-hissing cat.

“Ah, I see. Ya’ like kitties?”

Tim nodded. Of course he did, anyone who said they didn’t like cats was clearly lying.

“Thought so. I got something for ya." He reached into his back pocket, and what he pulled out made Tim pause.

It was a small stuffed animal, maybe six inches tall. Small enough for a kid to hide in their pillowcase and not have it be found.

Tim knew because that’s exactly what he’d done. He used to have a cat stuffie just like this, with orange fur and green, button eyes. He’d kept if for a long time, until he was eight and Jack found it under his mattress. That night, he had cried himself to sleep for the first time in three years.

He couldn’t remember where or when he’d got it, only that he’d always had it. It was the only toy he’d ever owned. That is, until he’d turned twenty-two and realized he had access to billions of dollars and no one to stop him from spending it how he wanted.

But he still didn’t know where it originally came from. The answer was staring him in the face.

The man Tim couldn’t remember, but at the same time did.

Slowly, watching the man for any sudden movements, Tim took the toy. He turned it over in his hands with gentle reverence. He never thought he’d see it again.

“Ya’ know, you’re a pretty smart boy, Timmy,” the man said casually, leaning back until he was fully sitting on the concrete. “You’ve got a lot going on in that big brain of yours, I can tell.”

Tim’s eyes jumped from the man to the still-growling cat. He was being so… nice. Tim’s gut still squirmed whenever he caught a glance of his sideways smile, but. Maybe that was just his paranoia. He hadn’t done anything to prove he was a bad person. Heck, he’d apparently been the one to gift Tim his Kitty!

Tim stood up and brushed off his trousers. He was about to thank the man, but paused when the other spoke.

“C’mon, Joscie is just worried sick about you. I should bring ya’ to her,” he stated, standing up and pulling Tim into his arms all in one motion.

Tim yelped in surprise as he was lifted up. No, that couldn’t be right. Josie wasn’t missing him, she wasn’t even at the party. She’d left them with the other nannies to watch, she was probably off drunk somewhere by now.

Tim wiggled around to get out of his hold, but his two-year-old strength was no match for a fully grown adult man. He opened his mouth to scream, “I’m being kidnapped!” but before he could, there was a hiss and the man let out a cry of pain, and then Tim was falling.

He hit his head on something, he didn’t know what. His head spun with nausea and he stumbled back. Then, he was falling again.

He opened his eyes at the shock of cold, only to close them again when he felt the burn of chlorine. He struggled, flailing his arms in a vaguely swimming motion, but he wasn’t sure which direction was up. His lungs began to ache, begging for him to breathe, and Tim was struck with the realization that he was going to die.

He was going to die. What would happen to his sister when he was gone? Who would protect her?

Tim felt two strong arms pulling him against a chest. He gasped for breath when they reached the surface, clinging desperately to the wet suit jacket of his savior. He shivered, teeth chattering as the cold air seeped into his wet clothes.

“It’s alright, you’re okay,” a deep voice rumbled. It was kind and familiar. Tim’s eyes welled with tears, and he began to sob, hacking up water periodically. A calloused hand rubbed his back soothingly.

“Timothy? Timothy, oh my lord! What happened?” Janet cried. He’d never heard her sound so frantic before. He felt her grab his torso to take him, but Tim clung harder. He loved his mom, he did, but Tim was scared, and he felt safe here. He didn’t want to let go.

“You were supposed to be with your nanny! Where is that infernal woman? I’ll ruin her,” she seethed. “Where’s Marinette, then? Is she hurt too?” She whipped her head around, searching. “Marinette!”

Marinette poked her head out from the crowd, sucking anxiously her finger. It was a testament to Janet’s frazzled state that she didn’t immediately reprimand her.

“Thank god,” she breathed, holding out her hand for her daughter to take.

“You should get him in some warm clothes, probably a bath too,” the chest under Tim rumbled in suggestion.

“Yes. Right, of course, I’ll, I’ll do that.” Janet ran a hand through her hair and held out her arms for Tim. Tim whined as he was passed to the other adult. “Thank you, Bruce. Really, I just- thank you.”

Oh. It was Bruce. He had helped Tim, and Tim hadn’t even had to blackmail him for it.

“Of course, you don’t need to thank me. Go get the little one warmed up, yeah? Jack and I will deal with the nanny.” And oh, that was his Batman voice. Not the gruff one he used to scare criminals, but the strong one that promised justice. Josie should be quaking in her boots right now.

“Right. Just- just don’t forget to change yourself, as well,” Janet chuckled hollowly, staring pointedly at the growing puddle of chlorine water under them.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course.”

The process of running a bath and changing Tim’s clothes was awkward and stunted. Janet clearly didn’t know what she was doing but wanted to do something to help Tim. He had never seen her like this before. So… motherly, almost. It was as sweet as it was uncomfortable.

When they finally got to the nursery, she paused in the doorway, Marinette bumping into them from where she trailed behind. Janet glanced between the two beds, a frown on her face.

Ah. She didn’t know whose was whose.

Tim pointed to Marinette’s bed. He didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Janet placed him in the crib, before picking up his sister and taking her to his bed.

“Hey!” she cried, pointing to Tim. “My bed!”

Janet furrowed her eyebrows. She seemed to debate with herself, before signing and taking Marinette to Tim. She placed her in the same bed without a word and left, pausing at the door.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself and shut it with a click.

They never got those chicken nuggets.

Tim’s eyes were just slipping close when he heard the door creek open. He shook his sister awake, putting a hand on her mouth to muffle any sound she might make.

A lanky figure walked through the door, silhouette illuminated by the hallway light and casting a long, creeping shadow across the crib.

The figure crept over to his sister’s bed. They were only a few feet away when Tim’s eyes adjusted, and his heart sped up in recognition. Marinette, feeling his spike of fear, stiffened next to him.

It was the man. The one Tim didn’t recognize. The one he did. The one who gifted him his Kitty and lied about his nanny searching for him.

He looked surprised to see them both in the same bed, but shook it off. He reached down and started to lift up Marinette.

“Stop!” Tim cried, lunging at the man. He scratched his face, and Marinette reached out to do the same.

“No! No no no!” she yelled. The moment her nails made contact with his arms, he let out a cry of pain. One much stronger than something as feeble as a toddler scratch should elicit.

He stumbled back, and Tim watched in growing horror as cracks grew from Marinette’s point of contact, creeping rapidly to the rest of his body.

In only a few short seconds, all that was left of him was a pile of ash and blood.

Chapter Text

Marinette’s breath hitched as she stared wide-eyed at the spot where the man stood moments before. The blood splattered on the twins’ faces and Marinette’s bed was rapidly turning to dust. Tim watched as a finger that landed next to his sister’s artist figure crumbled away. The frantic tapping of the rain on the window beat in time with his racing heart.

Before she could start screaming and alert someone of the crime scene, Tim pulled his sister into a hug and shushed her.

“No, no don’t cry. It’s okay, the scary man is gone. You did a good job, Nettie, you’re a good girl,” he soothed, squashing his own fear and panic down deep in his chest. Now wasn’t the time to freak out, not when Marinette was here and needed someone to calm her. He couldn’t do that if his words didn’t match what she knew he felt.

Once her tears died down, he pulled away so she could focus on his face. “Don’t worry, your big brother’s going to fix this. You just stay here and—” he searched the mattress. “—keep an eye on your doll, okay?” he instructed, brushing some of the dust off her artist figure.

She took the figure, tears welling up in her eyes again. “No, don’t go, I don’t want you to leave!” she wailed.

“No, no no, shhh,” Tim shushed, glancing at the opened door franticly. “You have to be quiet, okay? Alright Nettie? I just have to…” he eyed the thick layer of ash on the bed and floor. “I have to get a vacuum. Or, maybe a broom. Something.”

Marinette continued to cry as she clung to him desperately.

Tim grit his teeth in frustration as a few tears welled in his own eyes. Couldn’t she see he was trying to help her? He was upset too, but he wasn’t freaking out! Why couldn’t she just listen to him?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No, Tim. Don’t blame the baby, she was struggling too. He needed to be patient.

He rubbed the small of her back with small circles. “Okay, you can come with me. But, you’ll have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, but continued to cry.

Tim exaggerated taking slow, deep breaths for her to copy. She was mostly calm after a few minutes, except for a few hitches of her breath here and there.

“I’m going to get the chair for you, I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, she let go of his pajamas, watching him scale the crib bars like a hawk. It was significantly easier than it was a few months ago, but he was still too short to reach the ground on the other side and had to drop. His foot twisted uncomfortably at the fall, and he hissed in pain.

He shoved it to the back of his mind like he had the throbbing of his head when he hit it by the pool.

The chair left skid marks through the pile of dust that was once a man. Tim didn’t have the strength to lift it over.

Marinette climbed over the railing with much less trouble, using the chair as a step stool. She reached out to hold Tim’s hand in a tight grip when they reached the doorway.

“Remember, you can’t be loud. We’re… we’re on a secret spy mission, okay? We’re the heroes, and if we’re too loud the villains will catch us,” he explained. He wanted to make the situation feel lighter for her, but he wasn’t sure if she would understand. They didn’t exactly watch any television, and there weren’t any kids books lying around.

To his surprise, she nodded in understanding. “Like Batman,” she said sagely. Oh, right. This was Gotham, of course she knew about heroes. Er, vigilantes.

She tilted her head in thought, bringing a finger to rest on her chin. “Or Ladybug.”

Slowly, Tim turned from where he was staking out the hallway to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in determination, the look not resting quite right on the face of someone whose hair had yet to grow long enough to comfortably fit in pigtails.

How did she know about Ladybug? She hadn’t made her debut yet, and wouldn’t for ten years.

Footsteps at the end of the hall drew Tim out of his spiral. With a speed uncharacteristic of a child her size, Marinette pulled him back into their room and behind the door. He held his breath until the footsteps faded, then looked over at his sister. The rain patting against the window distorted the moonlight as it fell across her face. She brought her finger to her lip in a shushing motion and Tim shook his head. Right. Mission now, questions later.

Hesitantly, he poked his head out and looked around. When he saw no one, he led Marinette down the hall and to the bathroom as quickly as they could go without stumbling.

He opened the cabinet by the sink that he knew held the cleaning supplies. He wanted to take the vacuum but was afraid it would be too loud, even with the rain to drown out most of the noise. He settled for the broom, dustpan, vinegar spray bottle, and rag. He handed the latter two items to Marinette, leaving the biggest one for himself.

The trek back to their room couldn’t have been more than fifty feet, but it took them over five minutes. The broom was so big, Tim had a hard time balancing it without letting it bang on the floor, and he couldn’t drag it or it would mess up the hallway rug, which his parents would definitely notice.

In the bedroom, he turned on the light and shut the door.

“Okay, now I’m going to clean up this… mess. Do you want to help?” he asked, knowing she would feel better doing something with her hands.

“I want to help,” she said. Her breath hitched in another sniffle as she followed him to the pile by her bed. And on her bed. And, now that Tim thought about it, on both of them, too.

He didn’t know if what was left of the man would have any recognizable DNA on it or even if anyone would think to check, but it was always better to be safe.

“Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere,” Marinette sang softly as Tim swept dust into the dustpan and carried it to the window.

“Where’d you learn that song?” he asked, holding out the dustpan for her to hold as he unlatched the window. There was no screen, so all Marinette had to do was dump it through the crack. They watched as the rain washed it off the leaves of the rose bushes and to the soil. Tim hoped the man made good fertilizer.

“’Lizabeth singed it with me. She said you’re supposed to sing it when you clean stuff up. Her teddy goted all dirty when it falled on the ground, but we wiped it off with napkins,” she explained, rocking slightly from side to side.

“Oh, you made a friend then?” Tim made another trip to the window.

“Mmm hmm. ‘Lizabeth is my best friend, she said so.”

She continued to hum the clean-up song as Tim did his best to sweep the dust off the mattress. He couldn’t lift the broom over the bars, so he had to use his hands.

“Nettie, I’m going to spray some vinegar on the rails and the floor, I want you to use the rag to wipe it.” It would probably go better if he did that himself, but she was getting antsy and needed a job.

After ten minutes, the room looked much better. Even Tim wouldn’t have guessed someone was murdered here less than an hour ago, and he was trained by Batman! Though that was more due to the fact that there wasn’t any blood, rather than a testament to Marinette and Tim’s cleaning skills.

There was still dust in odd places on the floor, though it was more spread out and not in a concentrated pile like before. There was dust in Marinette’s hair and on her nose, and Tim was 90% sure her pajamas used to be pink, not grey.

He looked down at himself and cringed. He wasn’t much better.

Marinette yawned and rubbed her eyes. Tim repressed his own yawn. He should get them in some clean clothes, then they could sleep.

He put the cleaning supplies by the door, hoping someone would see them and think Josie left them there or something. Then, he dug through the dresser and pulled out some new clothes.

All their jammies had buttons, and unfortunately, Tim’s uncoordinated fingers could only barely undo buttons, and certainly not redo them. Still, they were clean, which was a step up from their current attire which was literally covered in various dead body parts.

Dressed, they settled themselves under Marinette’s covers and stared up at her mobile. It was different from Tim’s, which was gifted to his parents while Janet was still pregnant. They hadn’t known about Marinette then, so this one had some from somewhere else. Tim didn't know where.

It was dark blue, with a collection of red ladybugs and black cats. It was much more well-made than Tim’s, and certainly far less creepy.

It seemed to exude an aura of comfort the longer he stared at it.

His eyes slowly drifted shut, aided by the soft patter of rain outside.

“Timmy,” Marinette whispered. Tim hummed, almost asleep. “I think I did that. I made him disappear.”

She sounded resigned. Tim didn’t like the sound.

He struggled to open his drooping eyes again as he rolled to face her. He took her hands in his own and tried to embed his words with as much confidence as he could muster.

“It’s okay. You were just protecting yourself. You aren’t scary, or bad. You did a good job, you kept yourself safe and that’s the most important thing.” His eyes watered as he paused to yawn. “You didn’t know you would make him disappear, it was an accident.”

His eyes slipped closed again, and he was asleep before he could hear her whispered response.

“But, I… I think I did know.”

They were woken up an hour later than usual by their mother.

Her hair was a mess, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Tim didn’t think he had ever seen her not put together before.

“Good morning,” she greeted. Her smile was slightly strained.

She paused when she saw the chair by their bed, then again at their haphazardly buttoned shirts and dust-covered hair.

“What on earth?” she mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. “Is the ceiling crumbling?”

Tim sat up and blinked his eyes blearily while Marinette buried herself further under the blankets.

“I’ll need to call and get that fixed,” she said to herself, before lifting Tim and Marinette out and onto the floor. Tim stumbled a bit, tired, and Marinette whined as she tried to kick Janet.

“That is unacceptable behavior, young lady,” she scolded, her face set in a hard line. The twins weren’t the only ones with wearing patience. “Apologize or we’re not going downstairs.”

She looked like she wanted to refuse, but Tim grabbed her hand and gave her a look.

She sighed, and grumbled, “Sorry.”

“Good. Now come on.”

She led them past the bathroom and down to the kitchen. Tim squirmed at the change in schedule, but it wasn’t like they needed to go, anyway. They didn’t even have dinner last night.

She set them at the table with a carton of plain almond milk and a box of cereal. It was the kind of cereal you would find in an expensive, whole-grain health store. In other words, it looked disgusting.

She left to get more bowls without pouring them anything, so Tim did it himself. The cereal box was light, and the carton was only half-full. Still, his grip wasn’t the best and he spilled some. He was quick to pocket any spilled pieces and wipe up the dots of milk with his shirt before Janet could see and yell at him for ruining her antique tablecloth.

Jack walked in as Tim was shoveling the last of his food in his mouth. He sat at the head of the table and opened his newspaper.

“Where’s the meal, dear? I have to leave soon.”

Janet marched into the dining room and set two more bowls onto the table heavily. “The meal is cereal today because someone fired the morning help,” she ground out with a fake smile. Tim shrunk back in his seat. Marinette continued to glare at her untouched bowl.

Jack scoffed. “You really want to do this? Now?”

“I just wish you would consult me before you decide my cook should be relieved.” She glared daggers at him across the table as she poured her milk.

Jack slammed down his newspaper. Tim jumped. “Oh yes, because you liked him so much. I saw the way you looked at him! You think I don’t know what you get up to when I’m at work?”

“Oh ho, so that’s what this is about.” She jabbed a finger at herself. “What I get up to is my job. I work Jackson, you aren’t the only one paying the bills here.”

Jack scoffed and pointed at the kids. Tim’s eyes widened as the attention in the room was brought to him. “You don’t need to work at your silly little job. A woman’s place is in the kitchen and in the home, you should be raising our kids! But look at them, they don’t even know basic manners! She throws tantrums like an infant and he refuses to even speak!”

Silence hung heavily in the room. Tim held his breath and glanced at his sister. She had broken her staring contest with her bowl and was instead looking at their father, wide-eyed. A few tears prickled at the edges of her eyes, then she burst into tears.

Jack threw his hands up. “What did I say? Like a goddamn infant.”

She is an infant, jackass, Tim wanted to retort. He held his tongue, whether out of principle or fear, he didn’t know.

“Marinette,” Janet ground out through gritted teeth. She hated when kids were too loud, the sound grated against her ears. It was why she tended to leave Tim alone when he was upset as a child, she just couldn't stand to listen to him and didn't have the patience to figure out what was wrong. “Stop crying, your father is right. You know better. Eat your breakfast like a good girl.”

“No! Eggs! I want eggs!” she cried. She was tired and stressed after last night, and the sudden change in routine coupled with their parent’s yelling set her off. She blamed her frustration on one thing and broke down.

“Marinette!” Janet cried, standing from her seat. “You cannot act like this!”

“I want eggs!” she screamed, repeating the word “eggs” again and again.

“You aren’t getting eggs, you either eat what you are given or nothing at all.”

She swung her arm out and knocked her bowl to the ground, scattering milk and almond flakes all over the rug. Janet gasped in horror and Jack stood from his chair. He marched over to the girl and grabbed her wrist, swinging her up roughly until she was firmly in his arms.

She screamed like a banshee, kicking and hitting Jack as he carried her out of the room.

“Shut the fuck up!” his voice boomed through the halls. “You’re going to burst my fucking eardrums!”

There was the telltale sound of a door slamming closed, and a few minutes later Jack reappeared in the room, hair out of place and face curled in anger.

“She’s staying there until she stops, and I better never see that girl given eggs again,” he ground out, snatching up his bag. “I need to leave now or I’ll be late.”

He slammed the door on his way out, the motion shaking the chandelier above them. Tim was frozen as he watched little alligator tongues dance across the milk in his bowl and listened to the distant echo of his sister’s screams and the banging of her little fists on the door.

Janet huffed and stood up to take the bowls to the sink. She then took Tim’s hand and led him to the lounge room. His muscles were stiff as he walked, he was surprised he didn’t fall over. He couldn’t focus on moving one foot in front of the other when he could still hear his sister screaming.

Tim stood in the doorway as she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “Sit in here and watch this, mother is going to her office to work because she has a job.” She gave him a strained smile and turned to leave, grumbling, “And to call a cleaning company.”

Tim didn’t sit down. He couldn’t make his body move. If he moved, he’d be seen, and that was never good.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but his legs were numb and his ankle throbbed where he twisted it last night by the time the screams finally died away. He blinked, slowly coming back to himself. The TV droned quietly on some news channel.

He didn’t know what to do. His sister was locked in their room. He promised himself he’d never let that happen, but it did anyway. What made him think he had any power to protect her? Why had he thought things would be better this time? What, because he remembered being an adult he was immune to anything bad happening? That was stupid.

Tim was stupid.

He needed to fix this. To help somehow. But there wasn’t much he could do in his tiny body.

She didn’t eat breakfast; she would be hungry. He could- he could do something about that.

Carefully, Tim crept through the halls and back to the kitchen. He opened the pantry and looked around. The only packaged foods were his mom’s almond butter protein bars. He hesitated before grabbing one. She might notice if he took one, and then they’d lock the pantry again.

He shook his head and shoved a bar in his pocket. If that happened, he could pick the lock. He may be a child, but he wasn’t helpless. He was trained by the Bat, after all.

The doorbell rang.

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang.

Tim jumped at the sound and ran back to the lounge. Mother’s office was upstairs, and he didn’t want to be caught when she came down.

He turned down the TV’s volume and sat quietly on the couch, straining his ears to pick up the conversation. It got progressively louder as footsteps drew towards him.

“-didn’t have to, really.”

A booming laugh.

“It was no trouble at all. I couldn’t just leave it lying there.”

The door opened, and Tim met the eyes of Batman himself, before directing his gaze to the much more comfortable area of his left ear. It was like Tim had summoned him or something.

“Hey Timmy, how are you doing?” he asked, settling himself on the couch beside him, Janet taking the armchair across.

Tim blinked blearily. He was a mess. Physically, he was still in his pajamas and his ankle throbbed in time with his heart. Mentally? He couldn’t string together two coherent thoughts before his mind drifted back to Marinette. He hoped she had just cried herself to sleep and not decided to give up fighting. She couldn’t be like Tim, couldn’t lose hope like that.

“I know,” Bruce gave him a soft smile. He had never looked at Tim like that before. Tim didn’t know what to make of it. “Yesterday was tough, but you pulled through.” He ruffled Tim’s hair.

“I found something in the pool that I think you lost.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something orange and fluffy. “It was a bit soggy, so I had my butler dry it out for you, good as new.”

He kept talking, but Tim couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. Memories of nights alone with no one but Kitty to keep him company overlayed the feeling of drowning and of blood splattering across his clothes and face. Someone grabbing his arm, trying to take his sister away from him—

Tim didn’t realize he was breathing heavily until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He shrieked, slapping the hand away. He grabbed the stuffed cat and threw it back at the man with all his might. He wouldn’t take it, he wouldn’t! He didn’t want the man to take him away, he needed to keep Nettie safe!

“Timothy!” Janet yelled, horrified, but the only thing Tim could hear was his own screams and the sound the stranger made as he turned to dust. “Calm down now! That’s no way to treat a gift! Bruce went out of his way to—”

Bruce held up his hand. His voice came out muffled and out of focus to Tim's ears. “It’s fine, Janet. He’s clearly upset about something, it’s my fault for triggering him.” He tucked the stuffie into his coat pocket and crouched down to Tim’s height.

Tim continued to scream, then to beat his head with his fists. Hands held his own to stop them, and Tim tried to pull away. He swung his head back and it hit the coffee table. The pain was grounding, so he did it again but was quickly pulled against someone’s chest. Tim hit his head against that instead. The chest rumbled as the person talked soothingly and took slow, deep breaths.

Tim’s tears slowed as his heaving breaths evened out. A hand gently stroked through his hair, unperturbed by the snot and tears that stuck to the longer strands. Tim didn’t know how long he lay there, but eventually, the words drifting in the air around him came back into focus.

Too much focus. Tim covered his ears.

“—Never acted like this before. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over him.” That was his mother. He would be in so much trouble when Bruce left. He knew it.

He buried his face further against him, and the hand on his back resumed its patting.

“It’s no trouble at all. Sometimes kids have hard days, or so I’ve heard,” he chuckled, the laugh shaking his chest.

Janet paused. Tim wished he could see what face she was making. She was probably glaring at him for making such a fool of himself.

“That’s the thing though. I wasn’t being pretentious; he’s never like this. He’s always quiet, unnervingly so. His sister talks all the time, but I don’t think Tim’s ever said a word.”

She paused again. “I’m worried he might be… delayed.”

Tim let out a long breath. Better to be underestimated, he supposed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Bruce said. Tim was sure his parents would disagree. “And who knows, maybe Tim just has so much going on in his head, he just forgets to say it.”

Tim let out a quiet huff, and by the way Bruce’s hand stuttered as it pat his back, he heard it too.

“How’s your other one? Marinette, right?”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat and he sat up, looking towards the doorway, then back at Bruce.

“She’s in a time-out right now. She threw a tantrum this morning, refused to eat her breakfast, and spilled it everywhere,” Janet huffed.

“Oh dear. It sounds like today’s been a hard day for everyone, huh chum?”

Tim glared. He was Batman, he should be able to deduce the answer to that himself. And while he’s at it, why doesn’t he go upstairs and free his sister, like a good little hero?

Tim rubbed his eyes. God, he was exhausted.

Janet hummed and stood. “I should go fetch her, since she calmed down.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Tim,” Bruce promised.

Tim watched the doorway like a hawk. As soon as he caught sight of his sister, he dropped out of Bruce’s hold and rushed over to her. Her hair was freshly brushed, and she had new clothes on, but her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted as she clutched her artist figure to her chest.

He saw the beginning of a few bruises on her wrist peaking out below her sleeve. He lifted the arm Jack had grabbed, then kissed it gently and pulled her into a hug, which she gladly reciprocated.

He ignored his mother and climbed back into Bruce’s lap, this time pulling his sister with him. She hardly blinked at the random stranger, following him blindly. She curled up on Bruce’s other side with a thumb in her mouth.

“Have you arranged a new nanny yet?” Bruce asked, resuming his patting, now for two children.

Janet sighed, tucking her skirt under herself as she sat back on the armchair. “No, but I put out a listing just before you rang. I’ll hopefully have someone by tomorrow morning.”

Bruce nodded, the motion jostling Tim slightly. “I actually know of a good company. I employ some nannies from them for my employees at WE. Quite a few of them have experience dealing with more… delicate children. I could recommend one to you, if you’d like?”

Janet slumped slightly. It was jarring, almost, for Tim to watch her act like this. His only experiences with her had been so formal and strict, he hardly ever saw her act motherly, and even less often almost friendly, like this.

“Thank you, Bruce. Really, just. Thank you.” She looked like she meant it, too.

“You don’t have to thank me, Janet. We’re friends, and it’s hard raising just one little one, not to mention two. I’m willing to help—I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

“Okay. Alright, thank you. I’ll- an experienced nanny would be great.”

He nodded. “I’ll make the call.”

Tim whined as he put him and Marinette down to stand.

“Sorry Timmy, I’ve got to be heading home now,” he said, smoothing out Tim’s hair. Tim squished his face into his pant leg and grumbled unintelligibly.

“Why?” Marinette croaked, her voice scratchy and barely audible from her earlier screaming.

“Because Alfred will be worried if I stay out too long,” he chuckled.

Marinette tilted her head. “Is Alfred your father?”

“Ah, I suppose he is, in a way,” he admitted. Tim smirked under the fabric of his slacks. If Dick knew he said that, he’d never live it down. They all knew it was the trust, but for him to admit is?

Marinette nodded sagely. “You better go fast, then, before you get in trouble.”

“What?”

“What?” she blinked. “Hey, what’s that?” she pointed at something sticking out of his pocket, and he pulled it out to show it to her. It was a small, purple bat keychain on his keyring. Tim let out a laugh. All the bats loved to hide little mementos like that on their persons and in their rooms. It was one of the few things that brought them all together.

Red Hood had apologized for trying to murder him by leaving a red robin plush on his windowsill. The actual bird, not the vigilante. Tim had welcomed Damien by leaving a Batman paint set on his bed. Neither of them had ever brought it up.

It was one of the things that allowed their family’s emotional constipation to stay untouched, but at the same time, it was something that brought them all together. A way to remind them that they were all in this together. They all had one goal, and that was to keep Gotham safe, for better or for worse.

“Cool, right?” he slipped it off the keyring and handed it to her. “You can have it if you want.”

Tim gawked. He was kidding, right? That was definitely a choaking hazard. Wasn’t Bruce supposed to be a parent?
Oh, right. He didn’t have any kids yet, and even when he had they were never this young. He sighed and looked to his mother, who was smiling at the exchange. Great, she didn’t see the problem either. Welp, Tim might as well give them a crash course in toddler safety.

He snatched the toy from his sister and immediately put it in his mouth, trying not to cringe as he thought of all the germs that probably littered its surface. Had to build up his immune system somehow, right?

He felt a little bad at his sister’s upset “Hey!” but not as bad as he would if she choked and died.

“Oh my- Timothy! Spit that out!” his mother cried. He ignored her to look at Bruce. He brought both hands to his neck and mimed choking, going as far as to fall to the floor, twitching, before he sat up as if nothing had happened.

He spit the keyring out and grabbed Bruce’s large hand with his own, fingers barely big enough to wrap around just his thumb. He then placed the slimy item in his palm and shook his head.

Bruce stared at him, bewildered.

“Bad toy for a baby?” he asked. Tim nodded. “Sorry, bud.” He turned to his sister, who was still looking at her brother, betrayed. “And I’m sorry, Mari. I guess I shouldn’t give you this. But don’t worry,” he soothed when she started to tear up. “I’ll find you something less… choke-able. And I’ll give that to you, instead. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” she agreed, forlornly. “Can it be a ‘nail? I like ‘nails.”

“Sure thing,” he smiled, standing up.

He walked over to Janet and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll call them. Everything is going to work out, don’t worry.”

She let out a sigh. “I appreciate this, Bruce.”

He gave her a sideways smile. It was small and real, nothing like the false cheer he displayed as Brucie Wayne.

“You know how to reach me,” he said, then walked out the door towards the entrance to see himself out.

Janet stood silently while they listened to the front door open and shut. Then she took a slow, deep breath.

“I’ve got some more work to do, so behave in here for a bit,” she instructed, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. This time, she paused when she noticed it was on the news channel and flipped through stations until it landed on something animated.

She hesitated while they situated themselves on the couch, like she was unsure what she was supposed to do. After a few seconds, she left, leaving the door cracked behind her.

Marinette was enraptured by the moving pictures, her previous experience with cartoons almost negligible. Tim had to shake her a few times to get her attention.

“Hungry?” he asked when she tore her eyes away.

She hadn’t had breakfast or dinner last night, and it was already past noon. Tim doubted they would be getting lunch, either because Janet didn’t eat lunch and would probably forget that they did.

She brightened. “Yeah.”

He pulled the protein bar out of his pocket and offered it to her after ripping open the package with his teeth. The gooey almond butter stuck to the plastic after sitting in his pocket for so long.

She took a bite eagerly, uncaring of the sticky residue on her fingers.

Tim sighed and leaned against the couch, listening to her munch happily. His head throbbed and his body felt heavy after his fit earlier. He wanted to curl up and sleep, but he didn’t want to leave Marinette unsupervised.

He shouldn’t have let Batman hold him like that, he wasn’t supposed to get involved with him at all. Yet here he was with his mother getting nanny recommendations from him, of all things.

At least this should be the end of that. Sure, Bruce told Janet she could call if she needed anything, but his mother never asked for help. She always told him that if a Drake wanted something done, they either did it themselves or paid someone else to. They never accepted favors.

Janet didn’t ask for help, and it wasn’t like she could pay Bruce Wayne. He would be out of Tim’s life soon, he just needed to bide his time and stop being so goddamn clingy.

Their new nanny woke them up at 7:30 on the dot the next morning. Their parents were nowhere to be seen, already on a plane to Tibet.

Chapter Text

Tim liked the new nanny.

Her name was Jasmine. She introduced herself when they first met which was already a step up from the others, but she was also just genuinely nice.

She was a lot younger than any of Tim’s other nannies, in her early 20s. She was tall, almost as tall as Bruce, and had red hair cut into a short bob.

She also had a duffle bag she brought with her full of toys and supplies. Tim had been calling it The Magic Bag in his head. It held basic things like a few dolls and coloring pages, but also more interesting things like a national geographic book on different plant species native to North America. That one was Tim’s favorite.

But it also held some things Tim didn’t recognize. The first was a laminated page displaying cartoon faces with various emotions. She often encouraged him (and Marinette, who didn’t want to be left out) to show how they were feeling by tapping the corresponding face.

Tim didn’t understand the purpose, at first. But, after she brought out other pages with Velcro pictures representing various words, he came to a realization.

She saw how he wouldn’t speak and was trying to give him alternative ways to communicate.

Tim… wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He wasn’t opposed to using them, but at the same time, he felt like he was tricking her or something. Because Tim could speak, he was just choosing not to.

But, the longer he went without talking in front of adults, the more he wondered if that was still true. It had started out that way, he knew. A way for him to shield himself from being misunderstood or ignored. He didn’t have to worry about being heard if he never said anything to begin with. But, after so many months, the desire for silence grew to an overwhelming anxiety, and he found himself choosing not to speak, even when it was just him and Marinette.

It didn’t help that she usually knew what he wanted to say without him needing to say it, anyway.

So, he was perfectly fine to let Marinette speak for him. Happy, even, to let her take the lead, unless there was danger involved. Because Marinette knew best how to be a child and Tim was only just learning.

Marinette pulled him out of his musings by handing him an action figure from the Magic Bag.

“Here, take this. We need to protect the tower! The villains are coming!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the mounds of sand and dirt she had created. Each had a separate action figure on top except one, which held up a marker. She hadn’t had enough figures.

Tim put down the leaf he was examining to place the toy next to Marinette’s and moved the arm up and down in a vaguely fighting motion. They were seated in the dirt of the gardens, in the shade of a Pawpaw tree, Jazzie supervising from a lawn chair a few feet away.

Jazzie looked up from her book and frowned. “Mari, did you ask Tim if he wanted to play, or did you tell him he had to?”

Marinette pouted. “But he does want to! And if he doesn’t the villains will win.”

“It’s still polite to ask, even if you think you know what someone wants. Tim, do you want to play heroes with Marinette?” she asked, turning her full attention to him.

He didn’t mind either way. He was happy to play with her. It wasn’t like she had anyone else to play with. He reached over to the laminated pages Jazzie insisted be left where he could reach them.

“Yes.”

“Alright, but if you decide you want to play something different you can tell her, you don’t have to follow everything she says,” Jazzie said, going back to her book.

Tim smiled softly. This was the thing about the communication boards that he found the most alluring. How Jazzie stopped to give him her full attention. How carefully she listened, like she wanted to hear what he had to say.

It was nice.

The next morning, Tim stared down at his breakfast. It was a strawberry cream cheese bagel cut into bite-sized pieces. He looked over at Marinette, who poked at it sadly. It wasn’t that the food was gross, but. They were supposed to eat eggs and toast in the morning, not this. It had been the same since they’d been weaned from their bottles.

Tim decided he needed to do something. He slipped off his chair and pattered to the kitchen.

“Tim?” Jazzie called. “What’s wrong, bud?”

He waited for her to follow before opening the fridge and pulling out two eggs from the door. He walked over to her and put them in her palms, staring at her pointedly.

She blinked. “You want me to cook these for you?”

He pointed at his sister. She followed his finger and frowned.

“Oh. I’m sorry bud, Mari can’t have eggs, she’ll get sick.”

Tim blinked. Was that what his parents had told her? That Marinette was allergic to eggs? How was he even supposed to correct that? The papers didn’t have the right words, and even if he used his voice to tell Jazzie the truth, it wouldn’t matter. Not when he was only two years old. Not over the claims of the people in charge of his and Marinette’s well-being.

He wouldn’t be heard, so he kept silent.

Jazzie put the eggs back in the fridge. “We have some errands to run today, and then we’re going to the park, so go finish your breakfast, bud. Then we can get our shoes on.”

Tim dragged his feet as he made his way back to the table. Marinette looked so sad. He’d have to find some way to prove she could have eggs, but based on the look on their nanny’s face, she was putting some baby locks on the fridge.

Tim sighed. He shouldn’t have opened it in front of her.

They finished breakfast and sat waiting on the bench by the front door as Jazzie dug through the coat closet.

“Do you know where your shoes are? I can only find these,” she asked, holding up their dress shoes.

Marinette tilted her head. “But those are our shoes?”

Tim sighed, a little embarrassed.

Jasmine shook her head in exasperation as she slipped the shoes on their feet and tied the laces.

“What have the other nannies been doing? Based on the budget, they should both have at least ten pairs of shoes each, but they only have dress shoes?” she muttered to herself.

Then, much louder. “Okay, well we’ll just have to add new shoes to our shopping list, yeah?” She smiled brightly.

She led them to her car, a black mini-van, and buckled them in their seats. Tim scrunched his face up when he saw the backward-facing car seats. Being two sucked.

He kicked his feet on the front of the seats while Marinette chattered to Jazzie.

“Where are we going? Will there be snails? Can I drive?”

Jazzie chuckled. “No, hun, you can’t drive. Ask me again in fifteen years.”

She started the engine and pulled out of the long driveway. Tim watched with nostalgia as they drove through the neighborhood.

“We’re going to pick up some groceries. And some new shoes, I guess. If you both behave we can stop by the park after.” What? Going to the park didn’t have strings attached before. Tim crossed his arms petulantly.

Jazzie turned on the radio. “How about some music?”

“—recent report of James Arnold, a local wildlife philanthropist. He was last seen in Park Row, according to his romantic partner Josephine Stewart, who—”

“Ah, sorry,” Jazzie said as she flipped channels to a pop station. No, wait! Tim wanted to hear that! He yelled and kicked the seat.

“Timmy wants you to go back,” Marinette translated. God, Tim loved his sister.

“Umm, are you sure? I think that’s a little boring for yo—” Tim yelled louder. “Okay okay!”

She flipped the station back.

“—police officially declared him missing last night, 24 hours after his last known sighting. They have tied his case to a recent string of trafficking cases, but with no conclusive evidence, whether that is what actually happened is yet to be determined.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this, Timmy? It’s kinda sad,” she asked again.

Tim sighed and shook his head. He heard what he needed.

“He says you can change it!” Marinette yelled.

Tim was silent the rest of the ride. He was glad the GCPD had the wrong lead, but also worried things would get tied back to them somehow. He knew it was unlikely, but he couldn’t help the way his hands shook and his breath quickened.

Marinette hadn’t used her disintegrating power again since that night, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have it anymore. Tim was all too aware of the possibility that she activated it again, and he wasn’t sure how to approach that without scaring her.

He at least had the solid hope that it would only activate in life-or-death situations. But then again, who was a baby to understand what counted as life or death?

And if she did activate it again, would anyone tie it back to the man who disappeared after going to a party at their house? To the ash in the bush outside their window?

He knew, logically, that all this was very unlikely, but Tim was as much a toddler as he was an adult, and he found it hard to be completely logical about anything. Fear and anxiety rattled his small stature, brain too underdeveloped to process it properly.

He didn’t complain as Jasmine strapped him on her back in a carrier and let Marinette take the seat of the cart. It was her first time in a grocery store, she deserved to get the whole experience.

He was quiet the whole time, content to close his eyes and let his head rest on Jasmine’s back. Marinette was enthralled with the store, Tim lost count of how many times she asked, “What’s this?” She cried when Jazzie let her choose her own sneakers, holding the ones with little ladybugs on the straps close to her chest.

When prompted, Tim pointed at a random pair. It was Superman-themed, which made Tim smile a little. He could practically see Bruce’s barely hidden scowl whenever the boy scout was brought up.

Jazzie must have noticed his mood because she was handling him a lot more gently than before. She hadn’t even mentioned the way he hugged her back and buried his face between her shoulder blades.

The park was similar. Marinette was quick to toddle off to play in the sandbox with a few other kids, but Tim elected to stay behind. It was abnormal behavior for him, he was usually insistent he followed his sister everywhere.

“Is something wrong, bud?” Jasmine asked. They sat side-by-side at the edge of the sandbox. Tim leaned further against his nanny and shook his head.

“Are you tired?”

He went to shake his head but paused. He nodded.

Jazzie hummed. “We can leave a little early, then.”

Tim looked at her, betrayed. They’d only just arrived, and Marinette was so excited!

She laughed, the sound airy and light. “Not right now, but it is getting close to nap time. Today’s been a long day, huh?”

Tim sighed. That was one way to put it. He knew she was referring to the store trip, but Tim’s mind had been plagued by anxiety all day, and it had left him worn out. He turned and climbed into her lap.

He knew it was childish, and that he didn’t need to be comforted like this because he wasn’t a baby. But he was tired, and he wanted to know something. Long arms wrapped around his body and pulled him softly against her chest. Oh, so it was true, then.

Jazzie did give great hugs.

As Tim lay in his crib for a nap, he realized he never brought up what Marinette had said the night she made the man disappear. It hadn’t been a priority at the time, and his child brain tended to forget information when it wasn’t immediately relevant.

He cleared his throat, slightly nervous to speak. He didn’t need to be, he knew that—Marinette wasn’t an adult. She had never shown herself to ignore him before. The thought was still there though, dripping tar and ugly. Whispering in his ear that he needed to be warry.

“Nettie?” he called softly, eying the bedroom door, half expecting Jazzie to open it and yell, “Aha! I knew you could speak!”

The door stayed closed.

“Yeah, Timmy?” Marinette said with a yawn.

He wet his dry lips. “Who’s Ladybug?” It was best to start by making them think you didn’t know anything. That’s what Batman said.

Tim shook his head. This was not an interrogation, he was not going to interrogate his baby sister.

“Oh. She’s a hero, I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t remember, but I know she was really strong and helped people a long time ago. She was sad, though.” A few tears pricked at her eyes.

He didn’t want her to cry, but. He was curious, and being in a toddler’s body only increased his impulsiveness.
“Why was she sad?”

Marinette rubbed at her eyes. “’Cause she had a really big job to do, and she was all alone.”

“Oh.” He knew how that felt.

“I’m tired, Timmy,” she said with another yawn.

She had a busy day. If she didn’t get a long enough nap she would be crabby.

“Sorry, you can sleep now.”

As her breaths evened out, Tim stared up at his slowly spinning mobile. It seemed like Marinette was probably a citizen in Paris before, maybe even a close friend of Ladybug with how emotionally invested in the hero she was.

But she could only remember bits and pieces and seemed to understand her memories through the eyes of a child. It was possible she would remember more as she got older. Tim would need to keep an eye on it.

For now, though, the only thing he had to worry about was her Meta powers. He would shove the memory thing to the back of his mind for future Tim to deal with.

Chapter Text

The days went by slowly, and the longer he went without the police knocking on the door and demanding he hand over Marinette, the more Tim felt himself relax. It seemed like the man’s disappearance would be forgotten amongst the thousands of others in Gotham city.

He gladly moved on to his next issue: protecting his family.

Slight problem though, Tim didn’t know how he was supposed to achieve it. There was still a year until Dick was adopted. Jason wasn’t set to meet Batman for even longer, not to mention the rest of his siblings. There was so much he wanted to change, but so little he could do now. It was endlessly frustrating.

He knew of multiple main events, what would go wrong, and how. Bruce’s fights with Dick, Jayson’s death, Damien’s… everything. But it wasn’t like he could outright tell anyone. Who would believe him? He was only two-years-old, he wasn’t supposed to know any more than his favorite color and what he wanted to eat for lunch.

Besides, he had new problems now, like keeping Marinette’s Meta status a secret. He didn’t think anything bad would happen if Jazzie found out, she might even help her control them, but if his father found out, who knew what he’d do.

Wait.

Tim’s eyes blew wide and he sat up straight, dropping his spoon in his bowl of soup.

What if- what if Tim convinced Them that he was a Meta?

Not his parents, of course, but Jasmine, and maybe Bruce?

It could work, if he played his cards right. Not only would it throw attention off his sister, but it would give his words more weight.

“Everything alright, Timmy?”

Tim nodded absently at Jazzie and picked up his spoon. He slowly sucked the juices off the beef as he mulled over his thoughts.

If he was going to do this. He would need to start small. Begin by implanting the idea in their minds that perhaps Tim knew more than he should. Make them think it was their idea.

Once enough evidence piled up, they would naturally conclude he had some sort of future vision. He could tell them snippets of the future, and they would believe him. And maybe he could use that to save them.

He started small.

He took special care to remember where Jazzie left her things so that when she lost them, he would miraculously know where they were.

He watched his sister at the park, and when she did something mildly unsafe that he knew wouldn’t end well, like balance across the edge of the sandbox, he would place a band-aid in Jazzie’s hand right before she fell.

(He would normally stand with her and hold her hand to prevent injury, but this was more conspicuous, and Marinette was never badly hurt.)

And most damning of all, he ‘predicted’ the PBS kid's word of the day every afternoon.

That one took the most effort and unfortunately cost him his afternoon naps. He would sneak out of his room to his father’s study to access his computer. The hunk of metal was slow and bulky, and the blue light hurt his eyes, but it allowed him to look up the PBS program itinerary, so it was worth it.

Before, Jazzie would give them each a paper and crayon to copy the word and practice their letters. They would write it down a few times, and she would quiz them on each of the letter sounds.

Now, however, Tim would ask Jazzie for his paper early, ten minutes before the broadcast. He would write down the word of the day three times, just like they were supposed to, and they hand it to her.

The first few times she was confused and asked him where he was copying from. He would point to the powered-off TV and she would shake her head, puzzled, but leave it be.

After four days, though, she was much more persistent.

“Tim, baby, where are you copying from? Where did you see this word?”

Once again, he pointed at the TV.

Marinette helpfully translated. “He says he saw them on the TV. C’mon Jazzie, don’t you remember? The word of the day!”

She shook her head and went back to her coloring, incredulous that their nanny wouldn’t remember that, but willing to help along her clearly degrading memory.

Jasmine placed her head in her hands. Tim felt a little bad, so he pat her head.

“Thanks, bud,” she mumbled through her palms.

She would get it eventually, but maybe he should give her a shove in the right direction.

He picked up his laminated pages, now attached to a ring to keep them organized. Jazzie kept adding new pages the more interest he showed in them, so his vocabulary was much greater than it had been when she introduced them a month ago, but it was still more rudimentary than he’d like.

He sat on the floor and flipped through the pages to find what he was looking for. He nudged Jazzie with his foot to make her look up, then pointed at the word-pictures.

“TV. Letters.” He flipped the page. “Tim. Head.”

He watched her, waiting for her to understand.

He could almost see the gears turning in her head.

“You can see the letters in your head? The one’s you see on the TV?” She sounded confused. “That’s alright Timmy, it happens to everyone. Well, unless you have aphantasia.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. So close, yet so far.

Tim buried his face further in Jazzie’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. She rubbed his back softly.

The room smelled like antiseptic and grimy children, and he could hear Marinette playing with the kid’s puzzle board screwed to the wall amongst the sounds of a younger baby crying. He shuddered and made a note not to touch her hands until she washed them, those things were disgusting.

“I know you’re worried, bud, but you’ll be okay. You’re a big boy.”

She was right, he had to be strong for his sister. If he was nervous, she would feel it, and he didn’t want to worry her.

He hugged Jazzie harder and tried to soak up as much comfort as he could.

There was the sound of a door opening. “Drake?” a cheerful voice called.

“Here.” Jazzie stood with Tim and held out her hand for Marinette to take. Eww, didn’t she realize where those grubby little fingers were?

“Here!” Marinette echoed, wholly unaware of the situation they were walking into.

God, Tim hated the Pediatrician.

The nurse led them through the hallway on quick feet, rapidly firing questions at Jasmine.

“You’re Mrs. Drake, I take it?”

“No, I’m Jasmine Nightengale, I’m their nanny. I should be listed as a medical guardian, though.”

Oh. Tim didn’t know that was even a thing, none of his other nannies had taken him to the doctor growing up. He got his required vaccinations at the school, and other than the time he broke his arm climbing a tree, his only experience with medical professionals was with Lesslie as Robin.

He supposed it made sense, though. He and Marinette would need someone legally allowed to sign for them medically with how often their parents were gone. He just hadn’t expected them to think that far ahead.

“Ah, yes, there you are. Sorry, it’s just we usually see nannies accompanying a parent, not alone. Especially during routine exams like a Well Child.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Drake are out of the country at the moment, but they should be here for the next one.” She sounded sure of it, too. Like it was a fact, and not a hope.

“Hmm. Date of birth.”

Jazzie didn’t pause to think. He tried not to think of how if it was his mother here, she would have. “July 19^th, 2001.”

“Alright.” She stopped outside a doorless room with various basic medical devices and a few chairs. “We’ll need their weight, height, and blood pressure,  so whoever wants to go first can hop up on the scale for me.” She smiled pleasantly at them.

Tim took a deep breath and wiggled to get down. He’d show Marinette how brave he was, even if the sterile smell and buzzing lights made him nauseous and all he wanted to do was go home and nap.

He used the handle bars to step on the scale and waited.

“9.07,” the nurse muttered, frowning as she wrote on her clipboard. “Alright, your turn Marinette.”

The two switched spots and the nurse wrote his sister’s weight. They repeated the process for their height and blood pressure (the latter of which Tim never got used to), before she led them to their room. There were a few nice paintings, but the space was cramped and Marinette’s chatter bounced off the walls uncomfortably.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.” She smiled and closed the door.

“I don’t like the loud thing it made my arm feel funny. Jazzie I don’t want to do that again.” She kicked her legs from where she sat on one of the chairs. Tim agreed. The blood pressure cuff sucked more than shots ever did.

Tim pulled his knees up on Jasmine’s lap, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. The pressure was nice, he didn’t try to squirm away.

“You won’t have to do it again here, don’t worry hun,” she said with a laugh.

Marinette frowned. “Hey, what’s so funny?”

Jazzie laughed again and ruffled the toddler’s hair.

“Nothing, I’m just happy you’re being so good. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Gonna show Timmy how brave you are?”

Hey, that was his job! He tried his best to cross his arms behind his knees.

There were two short knocks, and the door opened to show a young woman with dark brown hair in a doctor’s coat. Wait-

Leslie?!

Tim had to consciously keep his jaw closed. What was she doing here? Had she really been a pediatrician before she opened her clinic? She looked so young, Tim had never seen her hair any color except grey. She looked less stressed, too. More lively.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Tompkins,” she introduced as she sat in the rolling chair and sorted through some papers. “Name and date of birth please?”

“Marinette and Timothy Drake, July 19^th 2001.” Tim didn’t think he’d ever get over her knowing that by heart.

“Perfect.” Leslie smiled and looked up. “Hi Timothy, Marinette. How are you doing today?”

Marinette, as extroverted as they come, smiled back. “Hi! What’s that around your neck? Can I have it?”

Leslie’s eyes widened and she nodded approvingly. “Wow, you’re quite verbal for a two-year-old, aren’t you?”

Jazzie ran a hand through Marinette’s hair. “Yes, she’s very smart.” Marinette preened.

“This is my stethoscope; it lets me listen to heartbeats. You can’t use it because it’s too easy to hurt your ears, but you can hold it if you want?”

“Yeah!” She rushed over, and Leslie placed it in her outstretched hand. She ran a finger over it in awe.

“Let’s start with some basic questions, Miss Nightengale.” She rattled off basic questions Tim didn’t bother listening to. She asked about how often they exercised, their diets, and various developmental milestones.

“Marinette is quite advanced for her age.” They both watched where she sat on the chair, playing with her artist figure that Jazzie brought, having long sense lost interest in the stethoscope. Leslie continued. “But you said Tim hasn’t started speaking yet?”

Jazzie ran her hand through his hair as she spoke.

“Yes, as far as I’ve seen, but I’ve only been employed by the Drakes for a week. I was hired because of my knowledge of child development and psychology but wasn’t given much information about the twins before I met them, except for Tim’s speech delay and behavioral issues. Though, to be fair, I haven’t seen any of the outbursts his parents described yet.”

She kissed his head.

“But Tim’s smart, a lot smarter than any other two-year-olds I know. He’ll start talking when he’s ready. We’ve actually been using word cards to help him get used to communicating for himself, instead of letting his sister tell him what to do.”

Tim pouted. He didn’t always do what she said, she wasn’t the boss of him. He just didn’t want her to be sad.

“Oh!” Leslie’s eyes lit up and she scribbled something down. “That’s great! Most parents I’ve met try to force speech, and that almost never goes well. I’m surprised you even knew about augmentative and alternative communication.”

Jasmine blushed. “Well, I’ve been learning about it in my classes, and my little brother uses it when he gets too anxious, so I already had the supplies.”

Brother? Tim didn’t know Jasmine had a brother.

Leslie nodded. “I  wouldn’t worry quite yet about any developmental disorders, it’s still to early to know. But, if he’s still having problems in six months, or if any concerning behavior develops, it might be a good idea to see a child psychologist. I can write you a referral.”

“That would be great.”

Marinette threw her head back and groaned.

“Stop talking already! This is boring.” She pulled on Jazzie’s skirt. “Can we go to the park now?”

Leslie laughed.

“Mari, that was rude. Could you try that again?” Jasmine prompted, endlessly patient.

“Can we please stop doing boring stuff and go to the park?”

Even Tim giggled this time, along with Leslie.

Leslie cleared her throat to stifle her laughter. “Right, just a few more questions and then we can get started on your vaccinations. After that, we’ll be all done.”

Oh, great. Tim just knew how well that would go.

“I did want to talk with you about Timothy’s weight. Marinette is safely in the normal range at 14.5 kg, but he’s below the 5^th percentile. Has he been eating enough? Does he have any problems with food?”

Jasmine set her lips in a flat line. “No, he eats just about anything that I put in front of him. Maybe it’s different with his parents, and he just likes my cooking better?”

Tim suppressed a scoff. His parents never cooked for them.

“Hmm. Well, it’s something to keep an eye on. That’s all I needed to know, do you have any questions for me?”

“Just one thing,” she said, letting Tim play with her hand. He put her fingers up and down in a pattern. 3. 5. 6. 7. 0. 2. The Cave entrance code. “I wasn’t given much information on the twins before the Drakes left on a trip, but one thing that I was told was that Mari has an egg allergy?” Tim’s head shot back to stare at Jazzie.

“I was wondering if it says in her file how severe it is, because she doesn’t have an Epi-pen.”

Leslie flipped through Marinett’s folder. It was short, both of theirs were, probably only containing their birth records and one or two infant checks. She pursed her lips.

“I don’t see anything on here. It might be a new development. If that’s the case, she could be allergic to other common allergens. I’ll refer you to an allergen specialist.” She wrote something down on a paper and handed it to Jasmine. “Until then, it would be best to avoid foods that have nuts, milk, or soy, specifically, unless you already know she can handle them.”

“Right.” She took the offered paper.

Leslie stood up to leave. “I’ll send the nurse in with the vaccines. Just the flu and varicella, correct?”

Great. Tim was hoping she’d forget that part.

“Yes, their mother said only what the preschool requires.”

Leslie sighed. “Of course she did.” She left the room muttering to herself about uneducated anti-vaxxers putting their kids at risk.

Tim sucked his finger with one hand and held Jazzie’s hand with the other as they walked through the park’s garden. It tasted like the hand sanitizer he’d swiped from the receptionist.

He watched Marinette stop a ways ahead of them to talk to a squirrel under a tree. He sniffed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He hated needles, but he didn’t expect himself to be this affected. He blamed his demeanor on all his missed naps.

“Just look, Mari,” Jazzie called.

Marinette pulled her hand behind her back without peeling her eyes from the animal. “I know!”

Jazzie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Tim’s gaze was drawn from his sister to a tall, broad man crossing the path intersecting ahead of them. Groggily, he let go of his nanny’s hand to run up to him and cling to his pant leg.

He wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing, all he could think of was how tired he felt and how comforting he remembered those arms to be.

Bruce didn’t stumble at the impact, despite Tim’s speed, but did pause. When he saw who it was, he crouched down to look over the toddler worriedly.

“Tim? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Tim whined and wrapped his arms around his neck, eyes already drooping. Curse his tiny body, maybe he really did need those naps.

“Timothy!” Jasmine called, alarmed when he forwent his sister to hug a random stranger.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” She rushed to pull him off, but his grip remained firm. Couldn’t they just let him sleep?

“It’s no problem at all, really,” Bruce placated. Then to Tim, “Are you alright, Tim? Are you feeling sick?”

He shook his head, then paused and settled on a nod. He wasn’t sick, but his arm hurt.

Jasmine crouched down by Tim while keeping Marinette in her sights.

“Ah. Is your shoulder bugging you?” his nanny prodded gently. “He doesn’t like strangers, and has certainly never hugged one,” she told Bruce. “I’m worried something might be wrong.”

Marinette’s eyes lit up when she saw Bruce, and she left her new friend to rush over.

“Hi!” she greeted.

Jazzie’s face scrunched up. “Mari, do you know him?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “He jumped in a pool with all his clothes on.”

“Ah, of course,” she replied, as if that cleared up anything at all.

Bruce laughed. “Perhaps introductions are in order. I’m Bruce, Tim and Marinette’s neighbor.” No Wayne? He must not want to scare her. “You must be the new nanny, the one from Child Guidance. Jasmine, right?” Well, so much for not scaring her off. What normal person knew that much about a virtual stranger?

Contrary to Tim’s expectations, Jazzie relaxed.

“I am. So you know the kids? That’s good to hear.” She sighed. “Tim seems to like you a lot, he doesn’t take hugs from just anyone.”

They moved to a nearby bench under the tree Marinette had been playing next to. Tim settled on Bruce’s shoulder with a sigh, only half listening to the adult’s conversation as he flitted in and out of consciousness.

At some point, something was draped over his shoulders, and he drifted farther.

He was startled awake by ringing.

He blinked the fog away, watching Jasmine pull a bulky flip phone out of her bag. It was older than he was used to, like all the technology of this time was, but different from any other models he’d seen before. Larger, and silver instead of the typical black.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widened. Jazzie never used language like that.

“Something wrong?” Bruce’s chest rumbled under him.

“My brother’s overnight camp is calling me.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“Want me to keep an eye on them while you take it?”

She sighed in relief. “Please.”

Tim rested his eyes while Marinette sorted her leaf pile by the bench.

“I only want the red ones,” she told Bruce seriously. “If Bois* eats the yellow ones, she’ll get sick and throw up everywhere.” She gestured to her artist figure and the torn up yellow leaves beside it.

“Right, of course.”

Tim was almost asleep again when Jazzie returned.

“Everything alright?”

“No, my brother bit one of the camp leaders and now they’re ‘afraid for their safety,’ or something equally insane.” She packed up the doll accessories Marinette had scattered in the grass. “As if anyone is actually afraid of a three-year-old.”

“Hey! Bois needs that to clean her barf!” she protested.

Jasmine paused to look at the cloth suspiciously, before putting it in the bag.

“Sorry hun, we’ll help Bois clean later.”

Bruce pursued his lips. “Oh dear. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just—” she hefted her Magic Bag onto her shoulder and grabbed Marinette’s hand with the other. “If you could carry Tim to the car, I’d really appreciate it.”

The next thing Tim knew, he was buckled in his car seat, head lulled to the side as something was laid across his lap.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Jazzie said as she started her car.

“It’s no problem, I hope everything goes well with your brother.”

Jasmine smiled tersely, “ Me too,” and pulled away.

Chapter Text

Marinette was sleepy, and a little annoyed.

She was poked not once, but two times, and yes, she was still sour about that. The park was supposed to make up for it, but then Jazzie had gone and made them leave early! The only reason she wasn’t pitching more of a fit about it was because that would wake up Timmy, and Marinette didn’t want that.

Honestly, the sacrifices she had to make.

But there was another reason she wasn’t yelling at Jazzie to turn the car back around so she and Bois could finish their game. This one was more confusing.

Sometimes, Marinette would get feelings that weren’t hers. She knew they weren’t her own because they felt different, though she wasn’t sure how exactly. They just were. Ever since Jazzie had come back from her phone call, she had this uncomfortable squirming in her tummy that kept her quiet. She didn’t like it.

“Jazzie, my tummy hurts,” she spoke up quietly, so as not to wake her brother. They were supposed to tell their grown-ups when they were hurt, that’s what Mr. Rogers said.

Jazzie frowned, but Marinette couldn’t see it too well through the mirror hanging on the seat in front of her.

“I’m sorry hun, are you hungry? I have some snacks.”

Marinette shrugged. She didn’t think that was the problem, but Cheez Itz were her favorite crackers, so she took them anyway.

“If it still hurts later, you tell me, okay?”

Marinette’s response spewed some crumbs all over her lap. “’Kay.”

The squirming intensified as they pulled up to a one-story building with a fenced yard surrounding a playground. Marinette couldn’t read the words on the sign, but beside them was a crudely drawn picture of three kids holding hands. She idly thought about how she could draw better than that. Timmy said she was really talented.

Jazzie had barely turned off the car before a fuming woman stormed out of the building, dragging a reluctant toddler behind her.

“I almost lost a finger thanks to this monster!” she shrieked at her as Jazzie hopped out of the car and tilted the little boys head this way and that, checking if he was hurt like she sometimes did for her and Timmy. The woman’s voice was muffled through the car window, but Marinette had no trouble making out the thunderous words. “You’d be lucky I don’t sue!”

She held out a gnarly looking hand, swollen red with four teeth indents on each side. Marinette hoped she had band-aids inside, because she’d need a lot of them. “That boy is not fit to be around other children—maybe not even other humans! I swear, his eyes flashed a glowing green, and- and his teeth grew five inches!” She looked sick at the confession, or maybe it was at the look on Jazzie’s face. Marinette couldn’t see it from her spot in the car seat, but she could feel something hot and heavy bubbling up.

“Oh fuck you!” she roared, getting up close in the woman’s face. “How could you say that shit about a child? He’s a three-year-old, does your fine little establishment here make it a habit to call three-year-old’s monsters, or is that just you? You fucking discriminatory asshole, you can go rot in a ditch somewhere, for all I care. C’mon Danny.” She turned on her heel and marched around the car to Timmy’s side, leaving the woman to growl and slam the building’s door behind her.

 She then dropped down to the boys level where Marinette couldn’t see and whispered sternly, “Don’t repeat that.”

Marinette was glad she only said that to Danny, because she would definitely be repeating that.

The car door opened, and Marinette met eyes with the little boy. He was taller than her, what with being a whole year older. Other than that, they looked a lot alike. They both had black hair and blue eyes, but that wasn’t the reason Marinette’s breath caught at the sight of him. Even as Jazzie muttered, “Where did I put that car seat--.” Marinette couldn’t muster up the energy to look away, and it seemed neither could Danny.

The boy reached up to absently pull on Jazzie’s shirt, stopping her frantic mumblings about car safety. “Jazz. Jazz, she’s like me.”

Jazzie froze. She looked at Danny’s slack expression, than up at Marinette. She bit her lip. “What do you mean, bud?”

Danny studied his sister. He clutched her shirt tighter. For a second, he looked like he was going to say something philosophical and far too advanced for his age, but then the look was gone, and he let go of Jazzie’s shirt with a shrug. “I dunno.”

Her shoulders fell. “Right, okay.” She took a deep breath, but her contemplative stare didn’t leave Marinette’s face. “Moving on, we’ve got a bit of a problem here. There’s three babies, but only two car seats. You want to help me look through the trunk for the extra?”

“Hey!” Danny protested, “I’m not a baby.” Marinette shook herself out of her dazed staring and crossed her arms. “Yeah, me either.”

Jazzie put a finger to her chin in contemplation. “How about this, if you’re small enough to be picked up, you’re still a baby.” She scooped up Danny and draped him over her shoulder. He shirked and kicked his feet in delight. “Oh, would you look at that.”

She carried Danny around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with her free hand. Marinette kicked her feet against the seat as they dug through the trunk. She was tired and bored, and as entertaining as it was to see her nanny yelling at the stranger lady, all Marinette wanted to do was go home. And maybe eat some eggs, but the second thing was tragically less likely.

Jazzie set Danny down in the passenger seat with a stern warning not to touch anything while she buckled his seat in the back. Marinette squawked indignantly when she noticed it was forward facing. Why couldn’t her car seat face the front?

“That’s not fair! I wanna sit like that!”

“Hey, careful not to wake your brother,” Jazzie warned. Timmy stirred, but stayed asleep. Marinette gave one last kick to the back of the seat and groaned.

“It’s not about how we want to sit, hun, its about safety. You’re not heavy or tall enough to face the front yet, but I promise I’ll flip you around as soon as you can, okay?”

Marinette crossed her arms. She thought her reasoning was stupid, but she relented anyway because she was a nice person. Like Mr. Rogers. “Fine.”

As Danny was buckled in beside her, Marinette whispered to him. “Did you really bite that lady?”

“Yeah, she was being real mean and wouldn’t let my friend leave time out, so I bit her hand.” He didn’t sound remorseful in the slightest.

Marinette nodded sagely. “Bois used to bite people too before I met her, that’s why she doesn’t have a mouth anymore.” She gestured to the smooth face of her artist figure. “The grown-ups took it away.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “They can do that? Really?”

“Uh huh. That’s why I only play with Timmy, he promised he’ll never take away my mouth and I believe him ‘cause he’s not a grown up.”

Jazzie looked slightly perturbed but didn’t comment as she started up the car.

“You wanna be friends?” Danny asked.

Marinette pondered the question. “Do you think black cats are scary?”

Danny scrunched his nose. “Cats aren’t scary, they’re too soft.”

“Yeah okay, let’s be friends.”

Tim woke up slowly, fighting against the dredges of sleep. Something warm and thick was draped across him, and he could hear his sister talking somewhere in the room. There was another voice he didn’t recognize, but it was high pitched like a child and Marinette didn’t sound alarmed, so Tim forwent opening his eyes to doze for a few more minutes.

To his right, he heard the telltale sound of keys clicking on the home phone, followed by Jasmine’s voice.

“Hello, it’s Jasmine Nightengale, Tim and Marinette’s nanny. I was calling to see when you and Mrs. Drake are returning? The itinerary placed your flight at coming in four hours ago.” She paused. “Well of course, normally that would be no trouble at all, but I don’t have overnight childcare for my son for the foreseeable future… No, he’s only three years old—” She was cut off by the voice on the other end, and when she resumed speaking, her own voice was much firmer. “It is not legal, much less safe, to leave three-year-olds alone. He can’t look after himself… I see. Thank you for your hospitality, please be in touch with me as soon as you have an updated schedule.”

She slammed the phone down much harder than necessary, and Tim ‘s eyes startled open at the sudden sound. Jazzie came to sit down beside him on what Tim now realized was the couch in the sitting room. Her eyes softened when she noticed he was awake.

“Good evening bud, you took a long nap. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. We’re having chicken nuggets today.”

Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes at that. They almost never got chicken nuggets; mother thought it was plebian food.

A young boy taller than Tim ran up to Jazzie and gave her a hug. She ruffled his hair and kissed his temple. “Hey squirt, having fun with Marinette?”

“Yeah! She told me all about her doll. It pukes from eating anything yellow.”

“Good to know.” Jazzie laughed. “Hey, you’re going to be staying with me and the twins at work for a few days, alright?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “For realsies?”

“For realsies.” She turned to Tim. “Tim, this is my little brother, Danny. He’s three, and he likes anything to do with space.”

Tim supposed that checked out, he was wearing a NASA shirt, and his socks were decorated with space ships.

Jazzie gestured toward Tim. “Danny, this is Tim, he’s two like Marinette is. He’s quiet but he’s very smart, so be nice, okay?”

Danny gave a thumbs up. “Got it, Jazzie. I’m always nice, don’t you worry your silly little orange head.” He pat her hair before running off back to Marinette and her improvised game of dolls with various household objects.

He was weird, but Tim didn’t really have the ground to judge him on that.

He sat with Jazz watching the two play for a moment, before she reached into her bag and pulled out his binder of words, setting it on his lap. She sat sideways on the couch so she could face him, her face set in a carefully masked, neutral expression.

“Timmy, I need to ask you something, and it’s really important you tell me the truth, okay?” Tim just stared at her. He was sure his eyes resembled a baby deer’s in the headlights of a car.

“Have you ever seen Marinette do anything super special? Like maybe fly, or make it so objects can pass through her skin?”

Tim’s heart dropped to his ankles. What did Jazz know? How had she figured out his sister was a Meta? With a shaking hand, Tim flipped through his book. His finger settled over a picture of a puzzled child, then to a thought bubble. He hoped his question was clear: “Why do you want to know?”

Jazzie took in his answer along with his expression, and her lips thinned. Ever since becoming a baby again, Tim found it hard to hide what he was feeling. It was incredibly inconvenient.

She took a deep breath. “Danny is special like that. He can do a lot of things other people can’t, and that makes them scared. But Danny isn’t a scary person, he’s just like you and me, only he can fly, and go invisible, and grow extra limbs, and—” She shook her head instead of continuing. No wait! Go back! Tim wanted to hear more about the limbs thing, because that sounded important— “One of the things he can do is know when other people are… like him.” She had a pained look at that. Like Danny being meta was less normal like she explained, and more tragic. “Danny said Marinette is like him.”

Oh.

Tim let that sink in, fingers absently held between his teeth. He guessed the cat was out of the bag, then. There wasn’t any hiding this from Jazz if she already knew, and he supposed she wasn’t someone he should keep this from anyway. She wasn’t like Jack. Besides, ,Anne she’d be more inclined to believe Tim himself was Meta if she knew his sister was.

He flipped back to the front page. “Yes.” To the second page. “Hide. Hide. Hide.” He jammed his thumb on the word a few extra times for good measure.

“Mari does have a power, but you want to hide it?” Jazzie guessed.

“Yes.”

“Okay, is there any specific reason why?”

Tim searched his page for the word he wanted. The picture showed a smiling man holding up a little boy on his shoulders. It was so wholey inaccurate it made Tim angry, and he jabbed his thumb against the picture with more force than necessary, sucking harder on his fingers.

“Dad.”

Jazz’s face hardened. “Your dad?” Tim nodded. “I won’t tell him then, don’t worry.”

Tim sagged in relief, and he crawled over to his nanny to burry his face in her shirt.

“Thank you for telling me, bud. I know that was hard, but you did the right thing. Its important to tell a safe grown up when something scary or unusual happens, so we can keep you safe.” She ran her hand through his hair. “Do you know what her powers are?”

Tim shook his head. He couldn’t explain it with his pages, he didn’t have enough words. For the first time, he cursed his voice for not working how it should. Why did he have to stop talking, why was he so scared? He used to be able to, he knew he did! And now all he wanted to do was shout at Jazz,

“My baby sister killed someone! She turned him to dust, but it was an accident! She didn’t mean to, I promise! Please help her, I don’t want her to do it again! What if the next time, she hurts someone she doesn’t mean to hurt?”

But the only thing that came out was a choaked scream.

“Is Timmy okay?” Marinette’s hesitant voice came muffled through the pounding in his ears.

“He’ll be okay. Sometimes we need to cry to feel better.”

And Tim did cry. He cried for his voice that stobornly sat out of reach. He cried for his sister, who caused the death of someone before she could comprehend what death even was, and he cried for his life he would never get back. His Batman. His siblings. His Family.

Tim sat up to wipe his nose with his sleeve as his sobs petered out. His breath still hitched with every other inhale.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m pretty sure I know, anyway.” Jazzie had a sad smile as she wiped his tear tracks with her thumb. Tim wondered what she knew, and what gave it away. Was it the way he’d insisted on listening to the news report on a certain missing person? Or maybe she’d noticed the way the rose bushes outside their window had begun to die. It turned out human ashes did not make good fertilizer.

Tim supposed it didn’t matter. He was just glad his lack of speech wasn’t hindering her information gathering. Batman would be so disappointed in how his debriefing skills had deteriorated.

“C’mon.” Jazz offered him her hand. “Lets go eat some chicken nuggets.”

Chapter Text

Tim pouted as Jazzie zipped his coat around him. It was uncomfortably tight on his arms, and he could feel the seam under his armpit through his shirt. What’s worse, it wasn’t even that cold! Maybe 70 degrees, if that, but Jazzie insisted, and she was the one in charge.

Tim sucked his fingers in consolation. Was it childish? Yes, but he was putting up with a lot right now, so no one had the right to judge him. Also, he was two.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Jazzie asked, straightening the hat on Danny’s head.

“Yep!” Marinette chirped.

“Let’s go!” Danny cheered, charging for the front door. Jazzie grabbed the back of his hoodie.

“Not so fast, firecracker. Remember the rules? We have to hold hands the whole way.” Danny groaned, but conceded to hold Marinette’s hand, who was holding Jazzie’s, while Tim clutched her other.

“Right, off we go then.”

Jazzie said they were visiting Bruce, but she didn’t elaborate on why. Tim supposed she didn’t feel the toddlers needed all the information. Being two sucked.

Leaving a few hours after breakfast meant they’d miss the morning PBS broadcast. He wasn’t too upset about that because he hadn’t gotten the chance to look up the day’s words yesterday, but the change in plans still left him off balance. They hadn’t been with Jazzie for much more than a week, but she kept things predictable. Tim liked that.

Besides, Tim needed to step up his game if he wanted Jazz to believe he had future vision meta powers.

The walk was long for only being a few houses down. Tim remembered making it many times when he was Robin, usually nursing a wound of some kind and leaving with Alfred’s gentle encouragement that he should be with his family. The house was always empty when he arrived.

“’Nail!” Marinette shrieked, letting go of Danny’s hand to point at the creature creeping up the pillar of the Wayne manor gate.

Danny stomped his foot as Jazzie rang the intercom. “No Mari, you gotta hold my hand!”

“Wayne manor, how may I help you?” Alfred’s soothing drawl crackled through the speaker. Tim’s heart ached at the sound. It had been so long since he’d heard it.

“Hi, I’m Jasmine, I nanny the Drake twins from next door. I’m here to return Bruce’s coat he left with Timothy yesterday.”

A pause. “Why, of course. Come in, I shall notify master Bruce and prepare tea.”

The gate beeped and the lock clicked as it swung open in invitation.

The driveway up to the manor was nearly as long as the entire walk up until that point had been. By the time they reached the end, Marinette was whining to be picked up.

The door swung open before they could knock, and Tim was confronted with a face he’d never expected to see again. He was younger than Tim had ever seen him, with a smoother face and more hair—grey, instead of white. He looked for all the world like he hadn’t experienced Batman making decades of mistakes and nearly dying a dozen times over.

The last time Tim had seen him was at his funeral.

“Come in, I’ve prepared tea and cookies. Bruce will be down any moment, he likes to sleep late so do excuse the delay. In the meantime, why don’t you introduce me to the little ones?”

Alfred led them through winding halls Tim knew by heart as Jazz rattled off their names. “These are the two I nanny for, Timothy and his twin Marinette; she’s the older of the two.” What? That was the first Tim was hearing of this. Whatever, Marinette was the actual baby of the two, and Tim would always think of her as such. “And this is Danny, my younger brother.”

“It is wonderful to meet you, young Timothy, Marinette, and Danny. My name is Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred introduced himself the same way he would for anyone, even though they were only kids. Tim appreciated that. “And of course, it is nice to meet you as well, Jasmine.”

“Just Jazz is fine. It’s nice to meet you as well, Alfred.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marinette parroted, Danny quickly following along.

Alfred led them to the breakfast nook, a cozy little spot in the kitchen. Tim could see an older version of himself sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee as he poured over a cold case while Alfred admonished him about not leaving work in the basement. A younger Steph coming up behind him and draping over his shoulder, questions about his case asked right by his ear. Damien throwing a knife to get her to shut up and Dick catching it midair. Cass laughing in that quiet, almost unnoticeable way she always did.

Tim shook his head and the memory faded, leaving behind the image of empty chairs, cushions unmarred by playfully thrown knives.

Alfred lifted a plate of cookies off the counter and placed it on the table. “I’m assuming tea for you and juice for the little ones?”

“Cookies!” Marinette cheered, clambering up on the cushioned bench. Jazz held her back while Danny reached the table and put one in his mouth. Tim reached the plate not long after and got his own.

“That sounds lovely, Alfred. First though, were these cookies made with eggs? Marinette is on restriction until her allergy testing.”

“Oh my.” Alfred’s eyebrows rose and he lifted the plate back up. Marinette whined and stomped her foot. “I apologize for not clearing with you first. I’ll whip up a fresh batch right away, egg-free.”            

Tim pocketed his snack. As much as he missed Alfred’s baking, Marinette deserved to try it, too. With eggs.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, I have crackers in my bag she can have,” Jazzie assured, already pulling out a single serving pouch of Cheez Itz. But even if Alfred’s mind wasn’t already made up, no one could resist Marinette’s pouting face.

“Nonsense, its no trouble at all.” He busied himself retrieving various ingredients and bowls from around the room.

Jazzie sighed in acceptance. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Alfred!” Danny chirped, munching on his cookie.

“Thank you,” Marinette grumbled between nibbles of her crackers. She spewed a few crumbs over the pink jacket she’d picked out when they went shopping.

“You’re welcome, little ones. Such nice manners.”

And Tim, Tim felt a little left out. He knew Jazzie didn’t expect him to say anything, but he really was thankful. He missed his grandfather, and here he was treating not just him, but his sister and cousin(?) like family even though they’d only just met. He wished he could explain to him just how much it meant to him to see him again.

He settled for running over and hugging his legs.

Alfred let out an, “Oh,” at the contact, before crouching down to Tim’s level. “You are welcome as well, Timothy.” He gave him a kind smile, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. Tim missed that look. “Would you like to join me in baking?”

Tim’s eyes widened and he tried to climb onto the counter like he would when he was younger and cooking for himself. It was hard to make food when you couldn’t reach anything. But before he could make it far, Alfred had a step stool under him. Right, step stools. Drake manor didn’t have those.

Contrary to popular belief, Tim knew how to cook for himself. The gossip magazines liked to joke about him growing up rich, passed from one high class family to another, never needing to lift a finger to help himself. But the truth was, if Tim wanted to eat anything more than microwaved TV dinner, he had to make it himself. He hadn’t known anything else until he became Robin, and even then he was alone in his empty house most nights anyway.

“Can I help too?” Marinette asked, toddling up to pull on Alfred’s coat jacket.

“No, I want to help!” Danny demanded. After a stern glare from Jazz, he amended, “Please?”

With all three of them ‘helping,’ things went much slower, despite Alfred and Jazz’s attempts to coral them. Tim tried to direct his sister, but having Danny there only egged on her excitement and she spilled half of everything. Only once the tray was safely in the oven did Tim notice Bruce leaning against the doorway.

To anyone else, the position would look casual, but Tim had learned to read Bruce’s tells. He noticed the slight turn of his brows. The way the position casually supported his shoulder. Tim would bet all the allowance he didn’t get that he was shot in the bicep. Maybe slashed with a blade. And given his choice to wear a turtleneck of all things, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was hiding bruises as well.

Franticly, Tim climbed down from the stepstool and ran over to tug on Bruce’s shirt. When he complied and crouched to his level, he held his head between his hands and used his thumb to smooth out his pinched brow. Then, he gently ran a hand over his shoulder and kissed it, right over his bicep.

The whole thing was silly, Tim would admit. What he wouldn’t admit though was how when Jazzie kissed his scraped knee the other day, it really had made it feel better. He hoped his kiss would do the same.

Bruce looked at him with that same soft look he’d used so many times now. The one Tim would never not be surprised to see. He petted his hair and said, “Thanks bud, it feels better already.”

Ha. Tim knew it.

Then to Jazzie, he explained, “I pulled a muscle in my shoulder yesterday, I’m surprised he noticed.”

“Tim notices a lot of things.” She smiled. “He’s very smart.”

Tim blushed, then quickly reached for his sister’s hand and led her out of the room. Listening to people complement him always made his stomach queasy.

“Where are you going, bud?” Jazzie called, scooping up Danny to follow him.

Tim scoffed. To the sitting room, obviously. Alfred always brought guests to the sitting room after tea.

“Wherever it is, he seems pretty sure of himself,” Bruce commented, following beside Jazzie. Tim was surprised by how unconcerned he was at them wandering about his home, Tim’s Batman was never this calm.

When they got to the sitting room, Tim led his sister to the coffee table where he knew they kept magazines.

“Timmy, don’t touch other people’s things without permission,” his nanny warned. Right. Tim didn’t live here; he was a guest. He looked up at Bruce and waited.

Bruce rounded the chairs to sit in the recliner, Jazz following his lead and settling on the couch. Danny wiggled out of her arms to join the twins.

“Go for it, bud. I never read those anyway.”

Tim pulled out the most colorful and kid-friendly one he could find which, admittedly, was still not age appropriate, and gave it to his sister. He flipped through a few pages with her until Danny took over, pointing out the words he recognized. Tim settled to play beside them, sorting the remaining magazines by publisher and date.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jasmine. Did everything go okay with your brother?” Bruce asked as he glanced over at the three-year-old.

“Danny got kicked out, permanently. But even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t send him back there. The place is run by a discriminatory asshole who calls actual toddlers monsters, and not in the joking way, either.” Jazzie’s eyes grew dark. “She insinuated my brother wasn’t even human. It’s just- uggh. I hate people like her.”

To be fair, Danny had bit her. Hard, if what Marinette said was anything to go by. Not that Tim would defend her, but yeah.

“It was the third childcare center he’s been expelled from since we came to Gotham, I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s a good kid, he really is- people just don’t seem to know how to handle him.”

Bruce’s face gained a look Tim knew meant the overnight childcare center wouldn’t be open much longer.

Just then, Alfred stepped through the entrance way, carrying a plate of fresh cookies. Marinette jumped up with an excited shout and she and Danny ran to the tray. Tim copied her, jumping and waving his hands about in excitement.

“Marinette gets the first pick, as she did not get any before,” Alfred said. Marinette concentrated hard on which cookie to choose, finally picking one from the top of the pile.

“No more cookies after this, I don’t want any of you staying up past nap time,” Jazzie said.

Tim held his cookie in front of himself, unsure if he should eat it or not. He wanted to, but he didn’t know when, if ever, he’d taste Alfred’s cooking again. He didn’t know if later he’d be more hungry than he was now.

He slipped the cookie into his pocket beside the first.

“Sorry for dropping by unannounced, there was a real reason, I swear,” Jazz picked up the conversation again. She reached into her bag and pulled out Bruce’s suit jacket, freshly washed and ironed. “I wanted to return this, and to thank you for staying with Tim at the park. He was having a hard day, and I can tell how much he likes you.”

Bruce took the coat from her. “Thank you, Jasmine. That was kind of you.”

“Just Jazz, please.”

Alfred hustled back into the room, this time lugging a vintage spring wonder horse. Marinette shrieked.

“Horsey!”

Bruce sighed in exasperation. “Alfred, what is that?”

Alfred sniffed. “Just some old things gathering dust in the attic. It wasn’t of any use up there, we might as well let the children play with it.”

Tim left his neatly sorted piles of magazines to inspect the new (old) item his sister was gleefully rocking on as Danny whined about getting a turn. It looked a bit dusty and at least mildly unsafe. Tim decided to curl up next to Jazzie on the couch instead of giving it a try.

“I thought you got rid of my childhood things.”

“Throwing out everything is akin to telling your memories they don’t matter.”

Bruce gave him an exasperated look, but the edges were tinted with fondness.

While Alfred helped the kids take turns climbing onto the horse, Bruce set the coat on the arm of his chair, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.

“Alfred is like a father to me,” he told Jazz. He gained a melancholy look, and his smile held a touch of an old sadness. “He raised me after my parents died. I know I was a lot of work for one person, but he never complained.”

Jazzie hummed, picking pieces of dust out of Tim’s hair. Tim leaned into the touch like a cat. “My parents are out of the picture too, but it wasn’t much of a loss. I have full custody of my brother, and I don’t intend to let that change.”

“Do you have anyone else? Other family or friends who could watch Danny while you work? It could be better than day care, especially if he’s been kicked out of so many.”

Jazzie thought over the question. “Well, we have an… uncle of sorts. I hate the guy, but he’s rich and he promised to pay child support to make up for his mistakes. He’s yet to follow through but he swears up and down he’s working on it. And he better be or I’m going to soup him, and I won’t let him out for a long while because I’m not nearly as nice as Danny.”

She waved her hand like she was holding something when she talked about souping him. Tim wasn’t sure what ‘souping’ meant, but he believed her.

“That’s why I’m working as a nanny right now. I need to support Danny somehow, and I’ve always been good with kids. It’s just hard to juggle with my college classes, so I’m taking the semester off. I’m hoping to resume next spring.”

Across the room, Danny yelled about getting to be the astronaut first because he was the oldest. Alfred must have brought down more toys.

Tim didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because Marinette pulled him off the couch to be the spaceship in their game. According to her, it was his job to carry the astronaut (Danny) to the moon where he’d have to fight the alien (Marinette). Tim wasn’t great at make believe, but he knew how to give piggyback rides, even if he was the smallest of the three, and Marinette was great at directing him.

She had Danny, an actual kid who must be more engaging to play with, but she still wanted Tim. Tim was always worried he was confusing her by not knowing how to act his age, and maybe deep down he thought she’d migrate to Danny now that he was here. That she’d only want to spend time with the easier of the two.

 It made him more content than he’d admit to be included in something so silly.

Chapter Text

They started to visit the Wayne manor more regularly after that. Jazz noticed how comfortable Tim was around Bruce, and how Marinette and Danny loved playing with the old baby toys. It helped that Alfred made sure to send them with a tuperware of food each time they left, and Jazzie was too well mannered not to return it. Something Alfred certainly noticed and appreciated.

Tim wasn’t stupid, he knew what Alfred was doing. He had confided once that he wished he’d supported Bruce in pursuing more healthy civilian relationships before he fell too heavily into Batman. After growing up surrounded by parasitic socialites, the two-sided nature of everyone he encountered as Batman set his paranoia off the deep end. He thoroughly vetted every person he let into his life, researching everything from their friends and family to where they grew up and who they slept with. It left no room for relationships to develop naturally, and the only people he ever grew close to were equally as insane to put up with it, or so surface level they couldn’t be considered true friends.

Alfred was trying to bring someone normal into his life. A friend who could curb some of that paranoia and ease his anxiety.

Too bad Tim knew Jazz was just as far from normal as the rest of them. It was a nice try, though.

It was during one of these visits Tim overheard Jazz confide in Bruce about his parents. He was playing house with Danny and Marinette, or more accurately, sitting and watching while the other two played, unsure how to join in, when he heard Jazzie’s concerned voice.

“I’m worried about them, you know.”

Bruce hummed, prompting her to continue.

“Their parents were supposed to come in last week, I only signed on to do overnights for eight days, originally. I wanted to be there for my brother, you know? But they didn’t show up when they were supposed to, and they didn’t call or email me a warning—I had to call them. Now I don’t have childcare for Danny, and I’m grateful they’re letting him stay with us for the time being, but. I don’t know, something just doesn’t feel right.”

“Hmm. Perhaps it slipped their mind?” he suggested. He didn’t sound confident.

Jazzie leaned back into the sofa and fiddled with her fingers. “I haven’t been signed with the Drakes for long, but something tells me this wasn’t a one-off event.”

Tim watched as Bruce mentally cataloged that comment. Beside him, Marinette demanded he wear a cloth around his neck as she fed him with an imaginary spoon. Apparently, Tim was the baby in this game.

“I’ve only met Jack a few times, but I’ve known Janet for years, we went to college together. She’s smart, and she knows people, knows what makes them tick and how to use that to her advantage. Sharp as a needle in the socialite world. I was surprised to learn she was a mother, but I know she loves her kids.”

“You can love someone and still hurt them.”

Bruce paused. His brows knit together, and he glanced over at Tim and the others. “You think they’re being abused.”

“No- I don’t know. They’re not really around enough for that, and like I said, I haven’t known them for long. It’s just a few comments, and something Tim said that’s got me all…”

Jazzie paused, then continued hesitantly, “Bruce, how do you feel about metahumans?” It was clear she was testing him. Clear that she wouldn’t divulge any more information until she deemed him safe.

Bruce sat back on the couch, a contemplative look on his face. “Meta civilians or superhero’s, specifically?”

Jasmine thought it over. “Both.”

Bruce hummed. “Well, I believe first and foremost that metahumans are humans, just like the rest of us. They have extra abilities, but its not like they asked for them. Most Metas stay civilians, and just want to lead normal lives. I hope that in the near future, better institutions are designed to help young Metas learn to control their powers to prevent accidents. As for Meta heroes, I believe most of them are just doing their best and genuinely want to help. Like Superman. His work in Metropolis is… admirable.” Oh, if only Uncle Clark could hear him now. Well, he probably could, if he was listening.

Jazz hummed. “My brother…” She trailed off. Her eyes searched Bruce’s face, and she chose her next words carefully. “My brother has Meta abilities because of an accident.” Her gaze never left his face as she said it, fingers twitching and ready to scoop up the kids and run at the first hint of hostility. Tim hadn’t heard anything about an accident before.

Bruce’s brows pinched together. “Is he alright?”

Jazz relaxed slightly. “He’s doing better, but don’t ask him about what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it. It makes him physically ill.” The look on her face said talking about it made her feel ill, too.

“I’m sorry.” And he looked sorry, too. Tim couldn’t blame him. It was commonly known that accidents that caused Meta genes to activate were brutal affairs. For something like that to happen to a three-year-old?

Jazzie turned to stare at the wall. “It was bad. He was dead for a few minutes before his powers kicked in.” She shook her head to clear the memory, refocusing her attention on the man across from her. “One of his powers lets him find people with the… same abilities as him.” Her gaze flickered from Marinette for a split second. “But the only way for someone to be like him, is if they were to. Well. Go through the same… process.” She took a deep breath.

“He said Marinette is like him.”

Bruce was stunned silent, something Tim had only seen one other time. The day he learned Jason and the Red Hood were one in the same.

Tim wasn’t much better off.

Marinette had died? Or, at least Jazzie seemed to think she had. When had that happened? Tim was always with her. Did it happen before Tim started to remember? And why was she so sure? His sister didn’t act like any dead people Tim knew—hot and angry and violent and green.

“And Tim is afraid to tell anyone because of his dad.”

Tim rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes as he stared at the computer screen in front of him. It made a high-pitched noise as it ran, grating on Tim’s already frayed nerves.

He was upset at Jazzie for telling Bruce Marinette’s Meta status, but he couldn’t ruminate in the feeling for long without remembering how she said she thought Marinette had died.

Tim knew people who had died and come back, and Marinette wasn’t like any of them. She was the kindest, most innocent person he had ever met. To even consider she had experienced something so horrific?

So Tim was throwing himself into a case instead, like he always did when he wanted to avoid his feelings.

He had put off making any significant changes until now, but he knew he couldn’t any longer. There were things he could do, things he could prepare for, even in his two-year-old body.

In the original timeline, Dick was the first to be adopted, or “warded,” technically, followed by Jason, and then Tim’s own unscrupulous addition. It wasn’t until years later that the others entered the picture, already hardened by their trauma. But that wasn’t the way it had to be. Tim could save his other siblings earlier.

He could save Cass.

Cass was older than him, though they never knew by how much given no one knew her birthday. Tim knew David Cain had already begun ‘training’ her, if not already forcing her to fight for him and teaching her to kill. Tim knew she never would, he knew that the same skill David beat into her to make her the perfect assassin was the reason she never could be one. Because Cassandra saw too much, felt too much.

She had explained it to him once, in the before. About the only time she killed someone, the day she ran from her father. Her words were stilted through an inexperienced tongue, but Tim never forgot them.

“How can I kill when I see everything? I see the hurt when I hurt them, I feel it too. I see the life leave the man’s eyes and I feel the life leave mine with him. How can I love these hands that bring only pain?”

Tim could save her from that. Maybe not all of it, but he could stop things earlier.

He just needed to figure out how.

The internet was a much smaller place in 2003. Security cameras were reserved for areas of high traffic, like malls, and citywide surveillance was near unheard of. Most information was kept at physical locations, and the information Tim could access was sparce at best.

But sparce didn’t mean non-existent, it just meant Tim would need to do a little digging.

In the meantime, Tim made the impulsive decision to express order some parenting books online and have them sent to Bruce’s door, using Lex Luther’s credit card info, of course. Tim wanted to at least plant the idea in his head now, before the rapidly approaching date of Dick’s parent’s death arrived. If he let Dick spend six months in a goddamn juvie center for some inane reason like not having his paperwork in order, Tim would never forgive him.

As Tim clicked through book options, he heard the beginnings of a commotion outside the front door.

Jack’s study was directly above the front entranceway. When Tim was in there, he could hear the coming and going of anyone in the house. Not that there was ever much of that, but it was the ability that comforted him.

Tim heard the slam of the front door, along with muffled conversation and scuffing of roller bags on the tile. He ran over to the window and opened the curtains. A shiny white Audi was parked in the driveway.

His parents were back.

Tim quickly shut off the computer, though not before ordering the first two books his mouse landed on and closing out the tab. He raced on silent feet through the halls until he arrived at the stairs, where he leaned against the wall. He slipped a thumb in his mouth unconsciously.

“Oh, welcome home Mr. and Mrs. Drake.” Tim could hear the clank of dishes along with Jazzie’s gentle voice as she shut off the sink. “I didn’t know you were coming in today, you never called.”

The thump of a suitcase hitting the ground.

“It was rather last minute,” came Mother’s light voice. She sounded happy. “Little Timothy and Marinette were invited to a birthday party tonight. We thought it would be good to take them.”

“It’s best to teach them socializing while they’re young. They’re like sponges at this age,” Father gruffly intoned.

A birthday party? That couldn’t be right. Jack and Janet wouldn’t come back just to take them to something a frivolous as a child’s party, and neither Tim nor Marinette had any friends. Who was he kidding, it was probably just another excuse for rich parents to get together and network.

“Oh, how wonderful! I’m sure the twins will be thrilled.”

“Yes yes it will be a great experience. You can leave now, there’s childcare at the event.” Tim could practically see his father waving his hand in dismissal. “And take your little terror with you.”

A pause.

“Right. I can go wake them up and get them ready first if you’d like?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you…” Mother hesitated. “Jamie.” Tim sighed. Wrong nanny. “We leave in ten.”

Tim took that as his cue to get back to his crib.

Despite forgetting Jazzie’s name, Janet sounded… chipper, almost. Excited. Tim knew how much she loved parties, and despite himself and his less than ideal experience with events like this thus far, Tim felt some of that excitement rubbing off on him. Who knew, it could be fun to meet other kids from the neighborhood?

Chapter Text

The car was quiet as Tim watched the large houses speed by his window, save for the gentle hum of the radio. On any other day, Marinette would be chatting to Jazzie about this and that the whole ride, but Jazzie wasn’t here this time. It was just Tim, Marinette, and their parents. It made Tim sad she didn’t feel comfortable talking like that with the people meant to care for her the most.

“It will be wonderful to see Alecia again, don’t you think?” Mother commented to Father as they pulled up to one of the smaller of the manors in Bristol.

There were hundreds of balloons tied to the gate pillars, and the entirety of the long driveway was full of cars, leaving them to park in the only speck of street not covered by trees. Tim supposed whoever’s birthday this was sure was popular for a toddler his age.

Jack shut off the car, taking the previously blasting AC with him. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but with all their layers of stuffy dress clothes Tim immediately felt the loss. He sighed and resisted the urge to kick the back seat. Jack and Janet’s doors slammed shut, and he waited for his own door to open and to be unbuckled.

There was a click of locks.

Tim looked out his window to see his parents passing through the front gate.

Without them.

Bruce drummed his fingers along his desk, next to the stack of books Alfred must have ordered in the mail. The cover titles “How to Properly Care for Children with Abuse Backgrounds, A Step by Step Guide,” and “Adoption: Everything You Need to Know” glared back at him.

He hadn’t known Alfred overheard his and Jazz’s conversation, much less that he was thinking along the same lines as Bruce himself was. If there was something going on in the Drake household, it was better he prepared than not. He knew how corrupted the Gotham foster system was, it was something he was working to change as Bruce Wayne and Batman. Unfortunately, not everything could be solved by throwing wads of bills around.

If the kids were being hurt, it wasn’t safe to leave them with their parents—especially if Marinette was Meta and Jack was a bigot like Jasmine believed. Not to mention the implications of neglect for Marinette to have gone through something traumatic enough (death his mind echoed Jazz’s words) to trigger the gene without them knowing. But he would never forgive himself if he let Tim and Marinette be lost in the system. It was better if he had the clearance to let them stay with him until he could thoroughly vet a suitable family. More logical.

Bruce picked up the corded telephone on his desk and clicked one of the numbers he had on speed dial.

There was no other reason, it was pure logic driving Bruce here. Yes sir e.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

Bruce carefully ignored the feeling in his chest that drew him to the children, like he knew them a long time ago. Like he used to be close to them, used to love them as his own. Bruce wasn’t a dad, he was vengeance, he was the night, he was Batman. He wasn’t soft for a bunch of-

The call connected.

“Ah, Lucious! Wonderful to hear your voice… Yes yes, I’ll be in the office tomorrow. Say, just hypothetically of course—what would one need to be cleared to become a foster parent? No- purely hypothetical… What on earth is a home study?”

“Timmy?” Marinette called softly. Her hair clung to her forehead, and her eyelids were shiny with sweat. “Can we get out now?”

Tim looked around for something to help them. He couldn’t reach the doors, even with the top half of his body out of the seatbelt, and he couldn’t see much without the mirror jazz still had in the back of her car. She had only installed their car seats, nothing extra. Tim wished, for once, that she hadn’t done anything, that she had trusted their parents to keep them safe. This would have been easier if they were buckled straight on the seats, like Tim was when he was younger.

He tried once more to unbuckle the bottom of his straps. The metal was quickly heating the longer the car sat in the sun, despite Tim knowing the outside temperature couldn’t be more than 72 degrees. It was uncomfortable to touch, but Tim tried anyway. He pushed as hard as he could, but just like before, it was no use. He wasn’t strong enough.

Marinette had long since undone her top strap, same as Tim, only she attempted to maneuver her feet out of the bottom. Her right leg was stuck bent, halfway out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. “I’m hot. I want Jazzie.” Then she started wailing.

Tim wanted to comfort her. He also wanted to cry, but he needed to be strong. He reached a hand in his jacket pocket and found the cookies he stashed there only a few days ago. They could hardly be considered cookies anymore with how mushy and warm they were, but they still smelled good. He gave a handful over to his sister, hand stretching across the middle seat to reach hers, clammy and warm.

Tim felt like his brain was swimming through molasses as he ate. The air began to feel muggy as clouds formed overhead, bringing blessed shade, and rain along with them.

 Tim wasn’t sure which was worse, the sun or the rain, because while before they were just hot, now the air was thick with moisture, and the more time went on the harder it was to breathe.

Marinette was still crying, though it had calmed to mostly hiccups since the cookie. Tim wanted to join her. He felt faint, he wanted to lay his head back and sleep but he didn’t know if he’d wake up.

Someone walked by the car, holding an umbrella. He was tall and lanky, wearing an expensive suit. Tim yelled to get his attention. Maybe he could open the door? Maybe he could unbuckle them and bring them inside?

The man’s gaze went to the window at the sound of Tim’s voice. He seemed to look directly at Tim, but saw only his own reflection. He kept walking.

Tim hated tinted windows.

“Come back!” Marinette cried. “Wait!”

He couldn’t hear. He kept walking.

There was a crack of thunder and Marinette screamed and slammed her hands on her ears. “No no no,” she chanted. “No, I don’t like this.”

Tim tried to hum to her, a song he could vaguely remember from before. She was just starting to calm when there was another thunderclap, and she screamed again.

“I want Ladybug! Ladybug, help us please!”

But Tim knew Ladybug wasn’t around yet. She wouldn’t be saving them.

There was a flash of light that caused them both to shut their eyes. Tim thought for a second that this was the end, that the car was struck by lightning and they’d both be dead any moment. But then the light faded, and when Tim peeled his eyes open, it was to see his sister holding something she hadn’t been holding before.

A pair of large scissors with bright red handles.

She looked up at Tim, wide eyed. Her face was caked with sweat, hair sticking to her head in most places and eyes puffy. Tim was sure he was equally gross looking. She looked back down at her lap and slid the scissors between the bottom strap her leg wasn’t stuck in. The sharp metal cut a hole through her dress to her thigh. She yelped and small droplets of blood grew around the fabric.

She handed Tim the scissors and wiped the sweat and tears from her face. “Help?”

Tim cut through his own strap before climbing out and cutting his sister’s. The scissor handles were sticky with chocolate residue from his hand. He wiped them on his dress pants and prayed Mother wouldn’t notice. He tried to slip them into his pocket, but just like before, there was a flash of light and they were gone, leaving Marinette looking more tired than before.

Tim half led, half dragged her to the front seat where he clicked the lock and opened the door. They were met with pouring rain, but sweet, blessed fresh air.

Marinette was tired. She was hot and wrung out, and her eyes stung from crying so much. It was similar to how she felt the time Father locked her in the bedroom. She cried a lot then, too.

She was also very wet. Timmy had tried to dry them both off with paper towels in the bathroom, but her dress still clung to her uncomfortably.

She held her brother’s hand as he led them through the halls. She wasn’t sure he knew where he was going, but she didn’t either, so she let him choose the directions. They passed by a big room with a lot of other kids and some grown ups. Timmy paused to look inside. There was one kid with a party hat and balloon string tied to his hands. He was a big kid—most of the kids in the room were bigger than her. Timmy frowned like he was confused when he saw him, but they moved on.

Timmy looked at a sign on the wall. There were letters Marinette recognized, like “A” and “Y,” but she didn’t know what it said. She knew Timmy did, though. She wasn’t sure how she knew that.

The halls were tall, and they echoed every noise the two made. It made her want to be quiet, to silence her steps and slow her breathing like, somehow, she knew she could do. But her breath still hitched every few inhales, and she couldn’t breathe properly through her running nose.

She wished she had Bois with her.

They stopped in front of a big door. Marinette could hear the sounds of a people talking inside. Tim twisted open the door handle, and Marinette was jealous. She could never turn those darn things properly.

Inside, Tim led her around, searching the faces of the crowd. A difficult feat for someone his height. All the adults in there looked really happy, happier than Marinette had ever seen. They were laughing loudly and grinning from ear to ear. It made her smile too, despite everything.

They stopped when Timmy found their parents, laughing and looking just as happy as all the other adults. Mother was grinning when she noticed them. Marinette grinned back, but Tim’s mouth stayed pressed in a firm line. He tugged on Mother’s shirt.

“Timothy? What’s wrong baby, why aren’t you with the other kids?” she asked. Her smile stayed wide and dopey.

Father spotted them. “Dear god, you look like a mess. Go get one of the nannys to clean you up. Go on, shoo. This is the adult party, go back to the kid one.”

Timmy’s frown grew deeper, but he complied. On the way out, he pocketed one of the plastic bags on the table and pulled another out of a woman’s purse.

On their way out, she saw two people kissing each other a lot. The girl was pushed against the wall the guy was grabbing her butt. It was really weird.

“What did you get, Timmy? Can I see?” she asked once they were in the hallway. He shook his head vehemently.

Everyone looked much less happy at the kid’s party than the grown-up one, but Timmy got her cake, so she guessed it was alright. She still wished they could have stayed home with Jazzie though.

When it was time to leave, it wasn’t their parents that got them but rather one of the grown-ups watching the kids. He led them to the car holding an umbrella to keep them out of the rain. They walked alongside their parents, hidden under their own umbrella as a chafer brought the car to the front.

Marinette didn’t want to get in the car. She didn’t want to be stuck again, but she also didn’t want to make her parents mad when they were just so happy. She didn’t like it when they were mad.

Inside the car, Timmy paused to stare at the straps, before climbing in his seat. They weren’t cut anymore, and Marinette only understood vaguely why that was.

Their parents didn’t buckle them, but neither did Timmy. Marinette didn’t say anything about it.